Page 162 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

‘Mal, why are you still here?’ Kage’s voice sharpened, the softness vanishing. ‘You know where the dagger is. What are you waiting for? We are days away from the curse taking hold, and I find you outside in the training yard, playing swords with Ash and his friends as if this is nothing more than a game.’

‘I am stalling, brother,’ she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield against the inevitable.

Kage scoffed. ‘Stalling?’ He let the word linger between them like an accusation.

‘I will leave tomorrow,’ she said, exhaling slowly. ‘During the engagement party. Everyone will be too distracted to notice my absence.’

Her brother’s snort was dry and disbelieving. ‘I highly doubt the Fire Prince willnotnotice.’

Mal smiled, but there was no warmth to it. ‘That is why you will stay behind. To distract him.’

A long silence stretched between them. Kage’s eyes, darker than midnight, studied her with a knowing she wished he did not possess.

‘Are you delaying his death on purpose, Mal?’ he asked at last, his voice unreadable.

She did not flinch. ‘No, brother.’

She lifted her chin, her spine straightening, though every bone in her body ached from the weight of the lie. She would not show weakness, not now, not when her own resolve was fraying at the seams. She would not tell Kage that the thought ofplunging a dagger into Ash Acheron’s heart made her sick, that she feared she would rather carve out her own before she could do it.

‘I will retrieve the dagger and kill him.’

And with that, she turned on her heel, striding towards the exit before her brother could say anything more. She did not need to prove herself to him. She did not need to justify what was already written in fate.

But as she walked, something shifted in the air.

A scent—faint yet undeniable—coiled through the tunnels, seeping into her lungs like a whisper of warning.

Mal hesitated.

Her senses prickled with unease, her fingers twitching for the dagger strapped to her thigh. She cast a quick glance around them, but the tunnels remained empty. Only Kage stood behind her, watching.

And yet…

She could not shake the feeling that someone— something—had been listening.

Mal returned to her chambers, the heavy weight of her thoughts pressing against her shoulders like a phantom’s embrace. She unfastened her dress with trembling fingers, letting the fabric slip from her body and pool at her feet like shadows spilling onto the floor. The scent of rose oil and jasmine lingered in the air, steam curling from the waiting tub, beckoning her into its warmth.

She stepped in, sinking low into the water, her dark lashes fluttering shut as she allowed the heat to ease the tension from her muscles. For a fleeting moment, she imagined sinking deeper, letting the warmth swallow her whole, dissolving her into nothingness.

The doors creaked open.

Mal’s lips quirked at the edges as she heard the quiet shuffling of feet, followed by the hasty retreat of her maids as they were ushered away. She did not need to open her eyes to know who had entered.

Water sloshed violently over the sides of the tub as Ash climbed in without hesitation, peeling away his clothes as if undressing before her was the most natural thing in the world.

‘We do not fit,’ she huffed, tucking her legs against her chest to make room for him.

He grunted in response, unimpressed by her complaint, before grabbing her legs and tugging them apart, draping them over either side of his body. A shiver coiled through her as her bare skin met his, her chest pressing flush against his own.

Ash took up the soap, clumsily working it through her damp tresses, his fingers combing through the strands with an endearing lack of grace. He managed more chaos than care, water spilling onto the floor, soap seeping into her eyes, until she batted his hands away with a laugh, blinking against the sting.

‘Hopeless,’ she teased, the sound of her mirth a fleeting reprieve from the storm inside her mind.

She turned her focus to his wounds instead, carefully cleansing them with delicate fingers. She ignored the weight of his gaze boring into her, refused to acknowledge the way his eyes traced over her face with such tenderness that it made her chest ache.

‘I cannot concentrate with you breathing down on me,’ she muttered.

His fingers found her chin, tilting it upwards, forcing her to meet his eyes.

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