Page 32 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

‘There is nothing to explain, Hagan.’ Her hands curled at her sides, nails biting into her palms. ‘You are a Red Guard. I am a princess. We both have duties to uphold.’

His deep brown eyes darkened, anger and sorrow warring beneath their surface. ‘You chose those duties above all else.’

Alina turned in order to avoid spiting at him or clawing his eyes out. ‘Do not start this again, Hagan.Youleftme.’

‘Because I thought you had made a decision.’

‘You did not give me time!’ The words erupted from her like flames, years of grief and anger igniting at once. Her hands trembled as she pushed them through her hair, forcing breath into her lungs. ‘I was a child, Hagan. I was sixteen when you asked me to marry you. I loved you—god, I loved you—but I knew what saying yes meant. I would have to give up everything. My world, my brother… Of course I hesitated! But when I went to find you, you were gone. No note. No goodbye. Just… gone.’ Her voice cracked on the last word, but she lifted her chin, steel re-forging within her bones. ‘You broke me, Hagan. You broke my brother. And then you returned a year later, wearing the red of the Guard, bound to vows that would never allow you to love anyone again.’

Hagan took a breath as though steadying himself before saying, ‘I didn’t know you had gone after me, Alina.’

‘How could you? You gave me no time, Hagan.’

The words struck him like a blade, and he recoiled as if they had drawn blood.

Her chest rose and fell, years of buried emotion coiling through her veins. ‘Do you know the worst part? If you had waited—just a little longer—I would have chosen you. I would have given it all up for you, Hagan. But you left. You took the choice from me.’ The silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating. ‘So I did the only thing I could,’ she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘I survivedwithoutyou.’

His expression shattered, his carefully built composure splintering before her eyes. ‘I joined the Red Guard because if I could not have you, I wanted no one.’

A bitter, hollow laugh escaped her lips. ‘And yet you still left.’

The weight of it pressed upon them both, suffocating in its finality.

She exhaled, forcing herself to look away, to steady her hands, to keep herself from trembling. ‘It does not matter. It is the past now. We have had this conversation before, so why must we relive it year after year?’

‘Because I cannot bear it, Alina.’ His voice was raw, stripped of all pretense. ‘I still love you, and it ruins me to see only anger in your eyes.’

She turned to the gilded mirror by the door, her reflection a portrait of cold restraint. A few strands of hair had fallen loose, and she took a moment to fix them, her fingers steady even as the storm raged within. Then, without looking at him, she moved towards the door.

‘Perhaps you should have thought about that before abandoning the person you love.’

The finality of it burnt through the air between them, sealing the wordslike a brand upon his soul.

Her fingers brushed the door handle as she whispered, ‘Return to your duties, guard.’

For a moment, he did not move. Then, his face hardened, shifting into the mask of a soldier, of a man who no longer had the right to stand before her as anything more than a servant to the crown.

His voice, when he spoke, was empty.

‘As you wish, Princess.’

Some claim that the gods were bored one day and challenged each other. I do not know if I believe such a version. What I do believe is that the Goddess Hecate created the witches first. She observed them from above as their powers grew and adored the witches as if they were her own children. The other gods grew envious and began their own creations, each trying to make something more vicious, more dangerous or more beautiful. However, none ever managed to reciprocate what the Goddess Hecate had done with the witches and magic. The others over time grew resentful—their desire to destroy us their only objective.

I really do believe we were condemned from the start.

Tabitha Wysteria

Mal was led to her chambers in silence, her footsteps echoing through the grand corridors of the drakonian castle. As she passed, heads turned, eyes lingering on the foreign princess who had arrived at their gates. She kept her chin high, her expression unreadable, though curiosity stirred within her. This world was unfamiliar, vast, and waiting to be explored. Everything was red and gold—opulent, polished, gleaming. The sheer brightness of it all made her wince.

Behind her, a trail of dirt darkened the pristine floors, remnants of her journey clinging to her boots. When she offeredto clean it up, the maids gasped in horror, as if the very thought of a princess tending to such a task was beyond comprehension.

Upon entering the grand space that would serve as her room until the wedding, she was met by a young woman who quickly curtsied. An older maid introduced her as Mal’s personal attendant.

‘I do not need a maid,’ Mal announced swiftly, standing stiffly before the assembled group of servants, their eyes darting between one another in barely concealed unease.

The head maid, a woman of impeccable posture and thinly veiled horror, took a tentative step forward. ‘But, your highness, who will dress you?’

Mal frowned. ‘I dress myself.’

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