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I didn’t want to be alone anymore. The ache in my chest was so sharp. Heavy. More than just the pain from my missing arm. It felt like there should be someone beside me, like I was missing something vital but I didn’t know what.
My Ash was full fae. But then, he wasn’t my Ash anymore. I wanted to die.
But before I fell unconscious, I wept. For everything I had done to Ash. All the pain I had caused him, even as I’d tried to stop it. For everything I had lost—the only thing that had ever truly mattered to me. Part of me hoped that I wouldn’t wake up.
And it felt like I’d cried for more. For something I’d lost—something other than my mortal life and my home and my parents—but I didn’t know what.
“I love you,” I blurted, and even when he froze in shock, the words kept pouring from me in an unstoppable rush. “I miss you so much it feels like I’m dying. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it, but it wasn’t a game, Ash. None of what we had was a game. It was real.”
“You’ve forgotten much already, but it will return. He searches for you always. Pines for you.” My brows pinched in a little frown. “Who?” “Your holly king.”
“Acherone al Brid.” The voice echoed across the clearing, but I knew it was coming from that little hut. “The halfling. The Hunter. The thrice-lived king.”
He was mine. He was mine. My Ash. My oak king. And I was his. I would always be his. No one else’s.
Your king will worry greatly for you when you vanish. If you are gone for too long, he will start wars over it. But he cannot know.”
“Want your gifts, old man?” I snorted. “Old man. How old are you, mushroom man?” He chuckled, picking up a pile of cloth-wrapped gifts from the table. “Still young enough to keep up with your brother’s voracious appetite, don’t worry.” I cringed, accepting the gift he passed me. “Maybe I should enforce a royal decree stating no one is allowed to make suggestive comments about my brother.” Gillie shot me a wide fae grin. “Bring it on, king. I’ll just shout them all from the dungeon.”

