12. Charming as Ever
Chapter twelve
Charming as Ever
The next morning, the sharp sound of a knock echoes through the stillness of the cabin, jolting me from a restless sleep.
I shoot upright, breath catching in my throat. For a moment, I’m not sure if I am waking from a dream or a memory. The warmth of his hand on my cheek still lingers vividly as if his touch branded itself there.
I press my fingers to the spot, but the warmth has faded, leaving only the cold.
My body aches in places I didn’t even know could hurt, but it isn’t just exhaustion. It is the weight of his words, the gravity of his gaze. “I wasn’t ready to let you go.” The sincerity in his voice haunts me more than the lies I expected.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force my mind to block out the memories. But they come anyway.
Oberon standing too close, his fingers cradling my face with a tenderness that doesn’t belong to a captor.
His eyes, so dark and endless, filled with shadows that hint at pain I didn’t know he carried.
The distance between us was too small, the air too thick, charged with something I refuse to name.
The way he looked at me. Worse than that, the part of me that wanted him to.
Frustration twists in my chest. I shouldn’t have let him get that close. Shouldn’t have let his words slip beneath my defenses. And yet, no matter how many times I tell myself he is the villain in this story, the echo of sincerity in his voice makes me hesitate.
The images he showed me last night drift back, dragging a fresh wave of nausea with them—my ruined world—the truth I wasn’t ready for.
It clings to my thoughts.
Each step I take toward the door feels heavier than the last. The burden of what I have learned presses down on me, tightening the air in my lungs until it feels impossible to breathe. My legs move, but I’m not sure how.
What did he mean when he said he needed me? That question gnaws at me the most.
When I finally reach the door, my hand trembles slightly on the handle.
Ash stands on the other side, his usual chipper self.
His bright gaze catches the sunlight as it dances across his features, making him seem almost out of place against the heaviness pressing on my chest. His energy radiates like a spark, lively and untouchable, so at odds with the storm still raging inside me.
He flashes a grin with his easy confidence. “You look like shit,” he says without missing a beat.
The words hit me like a jolt, not cruel. Not concerned either, just Ash, playful and unfiltered, dragging reality back into the room whether I am ready for it or not. I blink at him, too stunned for a moment to respond.
After everything from last night . . . this is how we’re doing things?
“Wow,” I mutter, rubbing my temple. “Charming as ever.”
He leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, that same irreverent grin tugging at his mouth. “Hey, I’m just calling it as I see it. Rough night?” His gaze sharpens slightly, like he is fishing for something beneath the joke.
He doesn’t know.
I force a laugh, but the sound comes out hollow. “Something like that.”
His eyes flicker to the necklace still resting against my collarbone.
For a moment, his grin falters, barely, but I catch it.
“Guess Oberon’s hospitality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, huh?
” Ash quips, his tone light again, but there is something else beneath it, like he is testing the waters, waiting for me to slip.
I stiffen. The memory of Oberon’s hand on my face surges back, unbidden. The way his voice dropped when he apologized. I shove the memory down. Hard. “What do you want, Ash?” I ask, sharper than I intend.
He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes stay trained on me. “Straight to the point today, huh? No warm greetings?”
“No, Ash, you look devastatingly handsome this morning?”
He tsks, shaking his head dramatically. “You wound me.”
I cross my arms, leveling him with a look. “I don’t feel like being part of whatever lesson you’re here to teach today.”
Ash lets out a low whistle. “Oof. Feisty this morning. Must’ve been some dream.” His eyes gleam with mischief as he tilts his head. “Or was it a nightmare?”
My jaw tightens. “I’m serious.”
Ash stays lounged against the doorframe with his arms crossed, not yet stepping fully into the cabin, his signature smirk firmly in place.
“So,” he drawls, eyes glinting with something elusive.
“Oberon finally showed you the highlight reel of the world’s downfall.
Not exactly the scenic tour you were hoping for, huh? ”
“Spare me the jokes, Ash.” The rage inside me surges: the pain, anger, confusion, all fighting for control.
I spin on him. “I don’t get it! How could you be part of this?
You and Oberon both helped start this war, and now you’re what?
Playing babysitter while the world burns?
” I step back, the ache in my chest tightening.
“Why am I even here?” I snap, dropping into a chair and crossing my arms.
Ash’s grin falters for the briefest second.
His gaze drops, fingers drumming lightly against the doorframe.
For once, he seems unsure. “Careful,” he murmurs, a crooked smile creeping back onto his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re starting to sound like Oberon. All sharp edges and accusations. ”
“Don’t you dare compare me to him.”
Ash flinches, hands raised in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to bite.” But his playful tone rings hollow.
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.