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I lean forward, glaring. “He destroyed everything. And you, you were right there with him, weren’t you? Standing at his side while the world fell apart?”

Ash shifts, running a hand through his hair nervously. “Look,” he starts, glancing toward the window as though checking for shadows. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like that.”

That catches me off guard. My breath hitches. “What are you talking about?”

Ash hesitates. For a heartbeat, the ever-charming mask slips. His shoulders sag. “The King,” he says slowly, voice losing its usual lilt. “He played us. All of us. Told us one thing, did another.” He makes gestures with his hand as if categorizing the events and gives a slight shrug. I stare at him, searching his face for the usual smirk, a hint of sarcasm. But it isn’t there. “We thought we were fighting for something... better,” Ash continues, his gaze distant now. “We didn’t know. Not until it was too late.”

His words cling to the space between us.

I narrow my eyes. “And now? What is Oberon planning now?”

Ash freezes too long to be casual. His mouth opens, then snaps shut. “Let’s just say,” he says finally, flashing a grin that doesn’t quite fit, “he doesn’t plan on repeating the same mistake.”

I rise from the chair, heart pounding.

His shoulders stiffened, and there is a flicker of frustration in his eyes as he continues, “The past . . . it’s done. It’s over. We can’t undo it. But we’re trying to fix what we broke.”

I stand there, studying him, skepticism etching my face. I am unable to shake the feeling that he is a stranger wearing Ash’s face. The easy smile, the playful glint in his eye, none of it is here, only the male.

“You know,” Ash breaks the silence, his voice trying to lighten the mood despite the heaviness in the room, “I was hoping for a slightly less dramatic reunion this morning.” He manages a small smirk, but there is little humor in it. When his attempt to lighten the mood falls short, he huffs a sigh and adds, “I know it’s a lot, but we will figure this out.”

His words do nothing to calm the turmoil inside me.

How can I trust him or Oberon? Their faces, their voices, are like fragments of a puzzle full of missing pieces. And their plan . . . what is it, really? What do they want from me? I am paralyzed, caught between an unchangeable past and a future that makes no sense. My mind races, but there are no answers.

“I need time,” I say through gritted teeth, my frustration leaking through. “I don’t know what I need. Just . . . leave.”

Ash flinches at my sharp tone, his posture deflating as he drops his head. He turns away, his movements slow, perhaps a little reluctant to leave. Before he reaches the door, he pauses and looks back, his eyes fixed on mine.

Ash grins, a spark of his usual mischief. “Whenever you’ve decided to stop being mad at the world, talk to Oberon,” he teases, giving me one last wink before slipping out the door with a casual wave.

Chapter thirteen

Inner Conflict

Neither of them returned for several days, giving me the space I demanded to sort through the whirlwind of emotions that had taken hold of me. Ash’s playful attempt to lighten the mood barely scratches the surface of the storm raging inside me. But it was Oberon’s words that lingered the most. His voice, low and steady, still echoes in my mind, I didn’t have a choice.

I’m not sure what unsettles me more, the conviction in his tone or the way part of me wants to believe him. The memory of his hand, warm against my skin, a gesture far too tender for the male I believed him to be, haunts me more than I care to admit.

I need time.

Time to untangle the web of truths and half-lies he has spun around me.

Time to understand what was shown to me, and time to come to terms with the unsettling truth of my own situation. It isn’t just the devastation of the world I witnessed, or even the fear of the unknown that looms over me now. It is everything. The weight of it all presses down on my chest, and no amount of quiet or solitude seems to provide relief.

I find myself sitting at the small table in the cabin, the hours slipping by without me realizing it. My fingers absentmindedly trace the delicate curves of the necklace Oberon gave me, the cool metal pressing against my skin as I turn it over and over between my fingers.

I didn’t even notice the repetitive motion at first, an unconscious act of seeking comfort in something familiar, even if that something is tangled up in all the confusion and lies.

Something about it keeps pulling me back, reminding me of everything I still don’t understand. I barely notice the soft light filtering into the room, the way it casts faint shadows on the walls, offering no warmth or comfort.

The drawn-out silence is suffocating in its own way, until the faintest shift in the air catches my attention. A familiarity washes over me as shadows darken around me.

I don’t need to look up at him to know his stare is fixed on me, his dark eyes observing me with the intensity I have come to expect.

His presence fills the space between us, a constant, looming force that sends a shiver down my spine. The necklace in my hand feels like an anchor, but I can’t bring myself to let go of it. It is mine, whether I want it or not. A symbol of everything that brought me here, both the pain and the promise.

The chain slips between my fingers as I continue to fidget with it, a habit born out of the need for some small semblance of control as my mind races through a maze of unanswered questions.