Page 90 of Ashes to Ashes

She turns to me, and the disappointment in her eyes cuts deeper than any blade.

“You played me.” Her voice cuts through me like winter wind, each word precisely placed for maximum damage. “Knew exactly which buttons to push, which curiosity to exploit. I’m a soldier, not a puppet—and you just tried to pull my strings.”

The words slam into me like artillery fire. She’s right—I did manipulate the situation, thinking it would help her accept the truth faster.

“I was trying to help,” I say, but the excuse sounds hollow even to me.

“Help?” She steps back, creating distance that feels like a chasm. “Helpwould’ve been honesty from the start. Realhelpwould’ve been treating me like an adult capable of making informed decisions instead of a mark to be conned.”

The assembled Wild Court kneels like wheat before wind, but she turns away from their reverence like it burns her skin.

“The blood oath—” I start desperately.

“Means nothing if it’s built on lies.” Ash meets my eyes one final time, and the disappointment there breaks something inside my chest. “Figure out who you actually are, Orion. Guardian, friend, or manipulator. Then maybe we can have an honest conversation.”

She turns and walks away, leaving me standing in the grove with a burning oath mark and ash coating my tongue.

The Morrigan approaches as Ash disappears between the trees.

“Well,” she says mildly. “That could have gone better.”

“She’ll come back,” I say, but hollow doubt scrapes against my ribs.

“Will she?” The Morrigan’s silver eyes hold ancient wisdom and not a little disapproval. “You showed her the crown before teaching her to trust. Offered power before building a connection. Royal blood doesn’t forgive that kind of manipulation, Guardian.”

The oath mark pulses with Ash’s emotional state—anger and hurt and bone-deep disappointment. The bond between us stretches taut but doesn’t break.

Yet.

“How do I fix this?” I ask.

“By becoming worthy of the trust you assumed was yours by right.” The Morrigan turns away, her judgment clear. “Start with honesty, Guardian. It’s a revolutionary concept.”

As the Wild Court disperses with disappointed murmurs, I remain standing in the grove where flowers still bloom in her footprints.

She walked away from a crown. From recognition. From everything her bloodline entitles her to.

And somehow, that makes me want to follow her more than ever.

But she told me not to follow. So I won’t.

Not until I figure out how to be the man she deserves instead of the Guardian she never asked for.

18

ASH

The forest hasit out for me.

Branches whip across my face like backhands, leaving welts that sting worse than pride. Roots reach up like gnarled fingers, hooking my ankles with the precision of practiced torturers. My bare feet squelch through mud that’s definitely plotting against my dignity.

“Fucking trees,” I mutter, shoving aside a particularly aggressive pine branch. “Fucking magic. Fucking seeds burning into people’s hands.”

A low branch catches my hair, yanking hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

“And fuck you too, Smokey the Bear!”

My voice echoes through darkening pines. When I turn around, something golden hovers directly in front of me—close enough that I can feel warmth radiating from its tiny form.

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