And all this time, all along, I’ve been doing exactly what they do. Stuffing emotions down, down, down until I can’t feel them anymore. Building walls so high I forgot there was anything behind them.
Graves taught me that. The military reinforced it. I thought I was surviving.
I was just becoming them.
I stumble, palm pressing to the stone wall. Small bits scrape my skin, drawing pinpricks of blood.
Something cracks in my chest. Not breaking, opening. And underneath the numbness, underneath the walls, underneath twenty-seven years of don’t feel, don’t show, don’t let them see —
Rage.
So much rage I could burn this whole court to ash.
“Ash.” Kestra rushes to my side, looping her elbow through mine. “Oh, Ash.”
“Don’t.” The word comes out harder than I intend. Then, softer, “Kieran’s room. I can’t go back to that tower. I just can’t.”
Kestra nibbles her bottom lip, gaze darting up and down the hall before returning to me. Little wrinkles form on her forehead. “Father didn’t give me instructions. Just said to gather you.”
“Well then.” I force my spine straight. “We should take the win for the day.”
“Come on now.” She guides me in the direction of Kieran’s quarters.
The hall’s light isn’t much more than a sliver straight down the center. Dark sconces project shadows, like a bulb projects light. Everything in the Unseelie Court is exactly as dramatic as its prince.
I lean on Kestra. And for a moment, I pause.
My heart aches. Not just for Finnian, though gods, yes, for Finnian, but because it’s been so long since I’ve allowed another person in. Other than the guys, who battered down my walls whether I wanted them to or not.
But friendship. Chosen family. Someone who isn’t trying to fuck me or use me or break me.
There’s this strange bond between Kestra and me. A kinship. One that grows every day I’m trapped in this hellhole.
I love my cousins. But they’re back in the human world, living lives I can’t return to.
Kestra is here. Sure, it’s a forced proximity situation, but she could have rejected me. Could have kept her cozy life at the Academy. Could have stayed far away from the chaos I bring with me.
But this strange little Fae chose me. And I’m trying, really trying, to choose her back.
It’s a habit to break. Every day, consistently choosing another person. Trusting that they won’t leave or betray or disappear.
“You’re pensive,” Kestra murmurs, pausing before a door.
“I am.” I eye the door, all darkness and shadow and exactly what I expected. It’s his. I know it’s his. Even the door looks like it’s brooding.
Kestra reaches not for the doorknob but the center of the door, pressing her thumb against a hidden panel. She gasps and pulls back, sucking on the tip.
“Blood lock,” she says around her thumb.
The door creaks open and actual light fills the space beyond.
It’s him. Completely.
I step inside to find a small sitting area. A fireplace blazes, two chairs facing it. The opposite side holds a small table and chairs. A counter that looks more suited for spell work than cooking, with rows upon rows of books tucked beneath it.
And a door that I hope leads to his bedroom and, please, gods, a bathroom where I can soak and cry and feel.
The door shuts behind us with a soft snick, and I glance at Kestra.
