She’d saved her sister once, torn and broken from flame and shadow—a skill she knew Heath possessed. And this vision, the clarity of his memories, destroyed him.
Seeing Silva in all her beauty and the regal attire of the throne broke Ash’s heart. She hadn’t been cruel or hateful. Silva had been fooled, lied to right under her nose, and she hadn’t seen it coming.
Heath had been broken not by an imposter queen, but by those around her who had used her power to do what they wanted. Asherah had to face the fact she hadn’t understood her sister either. Had failed to see how lost and alone she was in a world where their parents should have still ruled.
She had been too young to wear the crown, and a multitude of orchestrated mistakes had led them here.
Asherah, for one, had no doubt who was the driving force behind it all: Skuld.
But why, or what she had to gain, Asherah didn’t know. The Norns always held court of time, monitoring fates and destinies while having only so much control directly over how those fates could change. It took a goddess or god to do such things.
Skuld, for all her power, was no goddess.
But she had hurt Asherah’s Foraltin, that was for sure.
Heath curled against her chest, holding on to her with desperate arms. “It was all a lie. Fuck, Ash. I was almost a murderer behind a fucking lie. How can I touch you? How can I be anything when I am … this?”
She listened as he spoke, but he did not let her go. She sat on the floor, having fallen with him when he came out of the memory, and he was sprawled over her lap. He was so large, nearly covering her petite form, yet he still tried to get closer.
Her heart broke for him.
They were alike, Heath and Ash. Two Fae tossed to the shores of fate because of another’s doing. They’d both fought for what they believed in, had tried their best to protect those they loved, but it wasn’t good enough.
It always slipped through their fingers before they had a chance to grasp it.
Ash pulled him closer. “You thought she was the reason for all your pain.” As have I.
“I swear to the gods, I wish I could take it all back.”
“But if you did, you would not be here.”
If he could change it all, she would not have been able to feel him in this moment, would not have had the chance to see the man he’d become.
And he was a good man.
She saw it, felt it in how he had been with Lorack. The pain in his heart when he’d watched him die. Her Foraltin was the protector of orphans and those cast aside. He’d made a life for them and put himself at risk to keep them safe. This was a Fae who stood against the odds—always.
And through him, she saw how imperfect the criminal exiling truly was.
“You see all my sins. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That I dirtied my half of the soul.”
He turned his face to hers, and she sucked in a breath. This close, their lips were only a heartbeat apart.
She palmed his cheeks, holding him to her. “Sometimes, one must know darkness to know light. Perhaps, I needed what only you can give. You are here, a warrior bent on finding your way to me. I would have no want for a bard or an academic. I need your darkness, Heath. I need you.”
He thumbed her cheek, confusion marring his face. “This is the worst way to get to know anyone, yet you stay here. You don’t turn away from me.”
“We all have our secrets.” Asherah knew, one day, she would have to tell him who she was, but she did not want to heap guilt on him for what he’d wanted to do to her sister. Not yet. It would break them before they even had a chance, and she was also guilty of not knowing Silva’s truth.
“Will I come to know yours?”
“All of them.”
“Like your name?”
