Page 38 of Ashes to Ashes

“I look forward to observing your future classes, Professor Morgan. They promise to be educational for us all.”

His words hang in the air as he turns and walks away with measured steps, shadows clinging to him like loyal pets. Each footprint leaves a temporary frost mark that slowly melts after he passes. Only when he’s gone does the temperature in the room normalize, air rushing back into my lungs as if I’d been holding my breath underwater.

Orion whistles softly. “Well, you’ve certainly made an impression on our resident prince.”

“Is that what that was?” I keep my voice steady despite the cold sweat beading at the base of my spine. “Interest?”

“That was a predator recognizing prey.” Finnian’s voice carries an unusual edge. “Though I suspect he’s not certain which of you fits which role.”

“Neither am I,” Orion adds, eyes still tracking Kieran’s retreat. “But I’d be very interested in finding out.” His gaze returns to me, heated. “Over dinner. Tonight.”

“Subtle as always, Professor Wildfire.” Finnian’s tone could freeze summer.

“I don’t believe in subtlety when something’s worth pursuing.”

Finnian clears his throat, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. “Perhaps we should discuss tomorrow’s advanced class syllabus.”

“I never exaggerate,” Orion counters with a grin that flashes too-sharp canines. “I merely observe with exceptional clarity. Like how I observed our new professor here executing combat forms that haven’t been seen in centuries.”

He turns those amber eyes on me, his gaze heating my skin from three feet away.

“Or how I’m observing the way her pulse jumps when I step closer.”

He demonstrates by doing exactly that, the heat of him washing over me in a wave that makes my breath catch.

“Fascinating reactions for a human, wouldn’t you say, Finnian?”

Finnian’s expression tightens slightly, something flashing in his eyes that might be annoyance. “Perhaps we should discuss tomorrow’s advanced class,” he suggests once more, pointedly opening his notebook. “Professor Morgan will need the proper syllabus materials.”

As Finnian continues discussing syllabi, the patterns beneath my sleeve flare with sudden heat—a warning. I glance toward the windows where frost forms in delicate spirals across the glass, revealing an observer I can’t see but somehow sense. In the same moment, the floor beneath us warms, responding to Orion’s lingering magic.

Three courts. Three men. Three different pulls on whatever’s awakening inside me—fire that burns, ice that cuts, and warmth that heals.

Each one calling to a different part of the truth I’m terrified to face.

8

ASH

Moonlight falls differently here.

It follows me through the Academy grounds like a spotlight, shifting to illuminate my path despite cloud cover that should conceal me. When I duck beneath an archway, the light bends impossibly around stone to find me. When I press against shadows, they retreat as if burned by my presence.

Tactically problematic. Emotionally... unsettling.

I slip between two guard stations, counting seconds between patrol patterns. Twenty-three steps to the eastern courtyard. Forty-seven to the forbidden archives. All dutifully mapped in my mental floor plan, which expands with each night’s exploration.

Three nights at Velasca Academy and my tech is already worthless.

Satphone—dead the moment I crossed the boundary.

Military-grade tablet—now displays only swirling patterns that coalesce into faces when I’m not looking directly at them.

Even my analog watch runs backward half the time.

Another detail Graves conveniently omitted from my briefing.

No communications equipment means no reporting my findings. No extraction protocols. No backup. The isolation should concern me more than it does. Instead, I feel a strange kind of relief—no orders, no oversight, just my own judgment to follow.

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