Page 155 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

She needed an answer.

Duty demanded that she think of the kingdoms first, that she place the fate of the world above her own desires. And yet, another part of her—an aching, desperate part—wanted only to take Ash by the hand and flee. To vanish into obscurity, to find a place where no one would seek them, where they could simplyexist in peace, in love, in the quiet solace of each other.

But the gods had other plans.

She could not kill him.

The thought was a stone lodged in her throat, an undeniable truth she had come to accept. No matter how many times she tried to steel herself, no matter how many nights she spent convincing herself that this was the only way, the answer remained the same. She would not, could not, plunge a dagger into Ash Acheron’s heart. She would face the curse instead. She would greet it with open arms, let it carve its wrath into her bones, let it take everything if it must.

‘Please, let me find a different way,’ she whispered to the gods.

Footsteps stirred the hush of the evening. Mal turned, her breath catching at the sight of Ash moving towards her. He wore a loose shirt, the fabric barely concealing the wounds that still lingered beneath his golden skin. He moved with careful precision, favoring his injured side, but his smile—soft and meant only for her—was as steady as ever.

She squinted against the glare of the sun, but her feet carried her forward before she could stop herself. She had told herself she wouldn’t run to him, that she would maintain distance, that she wouldn’t let herself drown in his presence. But she was powerless against him. Against the way his golden eyes gleamed like molten fire, against the deep, rumbling cadence of his voice that sent shivers down her spine.

How cruel it was, to love him like this.

‘You shouldn’t be out here,’ she said. ‘You ought to be in bed resting.’

‘You s-sound awfully a lot like my sis-sister,’ he teased, his dimples deepening as he reached up and tugged playfully at one of her horns ‘I wanted to go f-for a stroll. And you s-seem to beper-persistently avoiding me.’

Mal averted her gaze, afraid of what he might read in her expression. Of course she had been avoiding him. How could she not? Ever since he had uttered those three words—words that had unraveled her entire world—she had been running. Because how could she stand before him, knowing that she had once planned to kill him? Knowing that, even though she had chosen not to, she still carried the weight of that betrayal like a brand against her skin?

What if he found out? What if he never forgave her?

‘I’m not avoiding you,’ she grumbled, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue.

‘Yes, you are.’ He tapped the tip of her nose with his finger before pressing a kiss against it, featherlight. ‘But I understand why. I m-made you un-uncomfortable with my words.’

‘No, Ash, that’s not it at all.’

Tell him. Tell him everything.

But the fear coiled tightly around her throat, suffocating the confession before it could escape. Instead, she pulled him into her arms with careful urgency, resting her cheek against his chest. He exhaled, wrapping her in his warmth, his chin coming to rest atop her head. Mal breathed him in, memorising his scent, savouring it like a lifeline—because one day, she feared, she would lose it forever.

‘Are you sniffing me?’ His voice was laced with amusement.

Mal only nodded, burying herself deeper into him.

He winced, and she pulled away, eyes sweeping over him in alarm.

‘It’s okay, Mal,’ he reassured her with gentle certainty. ‘You didn’t hurt me. You co-could never h-hurt me.’

She flinched. ‘Don’t say that.’

Ashfrowned. ‘Why?’

Mal turned from him, her gaze drawn to the lone, weathered tree that stood as a silent sentinel against the crimson sky. Her purple eyes traced its gnarled branches, reaching skyward like desperate hands pleading for mercy. The wind rustled through its sparse leaves, whispering secrets she could not decipher, mocking her in its cruel indifference. She tilted her chin upward, her eyes narrowing at the heavens, searching for some sign, some answer—only to find an endless expanse of gold and fire, stretching into oblivion.

The gods were watching.

And she could almost hear them laughing.

‘Because I don’t know if that’s true.’

…

Cushions had been artfully arranged in a shaded alcove of the garden, a soft blanket unfurled beneath an opulent display of Alina’s favorite delicacies. The sight should have been comforting, indulgent even, yet her stomach remained clenched with unease. Though she had eaten nothing since morning, the thought of food curdled within her, a hollow ache settling in its place.

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