Page 74 of Ashes of Honor

The house was too perfect. They were trying too hard to pretend everything was fine. Neat furniture, pictures on the walls, even the smell of vinegar and mint lingering in the air—it was almost enough to make me laugh. No one lived like this anymore. Not unless they were holding onto scraps of The Before with a death grip.

“Melissa and Georgie are out for the afternoon. It’s just us,” Alaric said as he led me to the kitchen, gesturing for me to sit.

I didn’t move right away, letting my eyes wander around the place. “Nice setup,” I said finally, taking the chair he’d offered. “Real homey.”

He ignored the jab, going to the fridge and pulling out a container. Sandwiches. I watched as he set them on a plate, fussing with napkins with trembling hands. There was no telling where his nerves came from. Could be anything, really. Or it wasthe fact that he was alone in a room with me. I tended to have that effect on people.

“Alaric,” I said flatly, watching him pour lemonade into glasses.

He finished with the drinks and set them on the table. One in front of me and one for himself. With a sigh, he sat down across from me, then, head bowed, said a quick prayer.

“I know why you’re here,” he mumbled, his fingers twitching against the table’s edge.

“Okay.” I picked up the sandwich, took a bite, and nodded. It was the first non-soupy or dried anything I’d had in who knew how long.

Alaric looked up. Something desperate flickered in his eyes before he straightened up. “It’s about the meeting, isn’t it? In a few days. We heard about it through the grapevine. When the invite didn’t come, I assumed it was an oversight.”

I leaned back, forcing a smirk that cut sharper than it should. “Usually, Reina’s our go-to for things like this,” I said, keeping my tone light. “But given the … current climate, the general thought it might be better to send someone with a different skill set.” I tipped my chin, offering him the wink of a criminal.

He gave a weak chuckle. The kind that barely touches the throat. “Understood. Yes, of course. Our council has been …” He paused, tilting his head side to side, weighing his words. “Torn on how to move forward after our defeat.”

“Defeat,” I repeated, rolling the word off my tongue with a slight shrug.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “But we’re here. We’re alive nonetheless.”

I took another bite of the sandwich, raising a brow as I watched Alaric pick at his own food in small, timid bites. His hands still trembled, and the corners of his mouth twitchedas though he was trying to hold something back. He was unraveling.

Alaric wasn’t built for this.

He’d been thrown into a leadership role after the untimely death of Fresno’s previous mayor—his older brother. They’d worked closely together for years. People here trusted him to run in the interim as they prepared to hold their first election since they’d been established. Then war erupted, and he was stuck, much like Amaia.

It’d taken me approximately two seconds to write him off as a threat the first time we’d met. Stupid move on my behalf. I’d forgotten how dangerous a weak and desperate mind could be when cornered.

“Then you’d better hope your council gets its act together,” I said, sipping slowly on the bitter lemonade. “I heard Covert dug their claws into San Jose. Breeding programs.”

Alaric stiffened, but quickly waved his hand as if brushing the thought away. “You can’t believe every rumor,” he said, quick to be defensive.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I leaned forward, my gaze steady, patient, the quiet promise of a predator circling right out of reach.

“Oh, but you know something,” I pressed, my voice quiet. Cold.

He hesitated, his fingers twitching against his lap. Alaric released a heavy sigh. Breath hot. “I don’t know details, but I’ve heard … whispers. Something about running more tests on the Pansies. Experimenting on those who they don’t think have what it takes to make it in a world like this and keep the human race propelling on a greater path forward. It’s … terrifying, what they’re capable of. If San Jose were to, I don’t know, be threatened with such options, they have no choice butto do what’s necessary to survive. That’s the name of the game. Right?”

The vein on my forehead pulsed against the skin, a flicker of tension I couldn’t suppress. His words were careful. Deliberate on the justification of it all specifically. The cracks in his composure told the truth he couldn’t bury. Not from me. I no longer had to wrestle with the unnatural twist of guilt I’d felt since stepping foot in this house. Fresno wasn’t turning a blind eye to Covert Province—they were in on it.

Their survival balanced on complicity in the suffering of others.

I took another sip of the lemonade, its sharp bitterness grounding me, masking the bile rising in my throat. “Survival’s a funny thing,” I said, my tone even, the words deliberate. “Everyone’s got their limits. Yours just seem a little … flexible.”

He nodded, mistaking my calm for understanding, a flicker of hope easing the desperation in his eyes. “I have to say there’s a sense of relief in you saying that. They’re reasonable if you know how to bargain. The deal was; provide resources in any way. We offered support in order to protect our own. Food, weapons, records. Whatever they needed, but not our people. It was San Jose or us. I had to choose us. There’s still some on The Council who think we have a chance against Ronan. Against Covert. I think it’s best if we play it safe. Wait things out, see how it goes.”

I shrugged in understanding. “But of course.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, his face an open book of fragile relief. He thought he’d gotten through to me, that his reasoning had earned him a reprieve.

It hadn’t.

The blade was out before he saw it coming. I moved without hesitation. The steel pierced his chest, silencing him mid-breath. His eyes widened, shock frozen in them as his body slumped forward.

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