Page 89 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

I closed the box, set it aside. “Then we’re back where we started. Six days until the original ritual. Seven days for me to find another solution.”

Ada was silent for a long moment, studying me as if seeing me for the first time. “Why should I trust you?” she finally asked.

“You shouldn’t,” I answered, my tone honest. “I haven’t earned your trust. But I’m asking for it anyway. Not for my sake, but for the shadow realm. For the children like the one you saved last night.”

Her gaze sharpened. “And your father? What happens when he discovers your plan?”

“He’ll try to stop us. Probably kill us both.” I didn’t see the point in sugarcoating the danger. “Which is why we need to prepare in secret. The original ritual must appear to proceed as planned.”

“So I’m trading one death sentence for another,” she observed.

“You’re trading certainty for possibility,” I corrected. “The chance to fight rather than surrender.”

She paced the length of the room, processing everything I'd told her. Finally, she stopped, facing me with a resolve that caught my breath.

“I want terms,” she said. “Real terms, not vague promises.”

“Name them.”

“Complete freedom within the palace grounds. No guards following me, no locked doors.” Her eyes flashed with determination. “I need to understand this realm better if I’m to help save it—or to know if it’s even worth saving.”

I nodded. “Granted.”

“Access to all information about both rituals. Every text, every note, every theory. No more secrets.”

“Done.”

“And if we succeed—if we survive your father’s wrath and complete this alternative ritual—I leave. Immediately. I return to the light realm, and you never seek me out again.”

The last condition felt like a blade between my ribs, but I didn’t let the pain show. “Agreed.”

She studied me suspiciously. “That easily? No arguments?”

“What would be the point?” I asked, and allowed a rare moment of vulnerability. “I’ve already lost you, Ada. I lost you five years ago by my own choice. Whatever happens now doesn’t change that.”

Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, perhaps, or an emotion I couldn’t name.

“One last condition,” she said. “If at any point I believe you’re lying to me again, I walk away. No consequences, no pursuit.”

“I accept.” I extended my hand formally. “Do we have a truce?”

She regarded my outstretched hand with visible reluctance, then finally reached out to grasp it. The moment our skin touched, a spark of magic flashed between us—shadow and light intertwining briefly then disappearing. As we shook hands, I noticed the binding between us pulse differently than before - not with pain, but with something warmer. The sensation lingered longer than it should have, making me wonder if our agreement was changing the magic itself.

We both pulled back, startled by the unexpected reaction.

"What was that?" she demanded.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I think it means we're on the right path."

The sensation lingered on my palm—a gentle warmth unlike anything I'd felt previously. I'd read about this in the ancient texts—the first tentative recognition between complementary magic.

"The binding between us," I explained, studying my hand. "It's responding to the possibility of balance rather than dominance. The original texts mentioned this—how shadow and light naturally seek equilibrium when not forced into opposition."

Ada examined her palm where the spark had occurred, then back at me. "This doesn't make us allies," she warned. "And it certainly doesn't make us what we once were."

"I know." I stepped back, and kept the distance she clearly needed. "But it's a start."

We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of our agreement hanging between us. Then Ada moved to the table where I'd placed the ancient texts.

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