Page 10 of King of Fire and Flames

Ignoring my question, he turned toward the female fae seated beside the queen. “These are my aunts, the king’s sisters, Marcella and Ruhh. Ruhh is deceased, of course,” he said, as if the sight of her browning bones, visible through a gown that had seen better days, and her mottled, transparent skin was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Oh, of course,” I agreed, as though I too had a rotting specter as a valued member of my family. Then an icy shiver ran down my spine as I imagined Quin as my undead companion. I certainly wouldn’t give him leave to sit beside me on the Mydorian dais, the way Azarn did with Ruhh.

The , Marcella, leaned forward, rust-colored hair trailing over her emerald gown, and gave me a benign smile. Just as Sindar the sailor had said weeks ago, when he cursed the fire family on Captain Loligos’s ship, her eyes were indeed a bright orange color.

And perhaps, once, the dead girl’s had been, too, but with all shades other than white and brown leeched from her body, only malice remained simmering in her staring, translucent eyes.

By mortal standards, the prince and his living aunt, like most fae, appeared to dwell in the rosy bloom of youth, but I couldn’t begin to guess how old the ghost-fae had been when she’d passed away. But if Arrow had something to do with it, as Esen had suggested, I planned to learn everything I could about her.

Ignoring the prince, who hovered close by, I turned my attention to the king. “Please tell me why I’ve been arrested. What crime have I been accused of?”

“You murdered the Regent of the Earth Realm, your brother Quin Omala, who the Sun Realm recognized as the rightful Mydorian heir.”

“For the time being, we’ll have to disagree about who should wear the Mydorian crown, but when your mage captured me, he said I was under arrest by the order of Arrowyn Ramiel. Was he lying?”

Laughter rumbled through the courtiers that I hadn’t yet had the courage to inspect. I knew what I’d see if I did. Cold glares, filled with hungry fascination for the strange, weak human. No friendly, reassuring smiles waited for me on the sea of faces below the dais.

The Fire King snarled. “When Arrowyn destroyed my blacksmith, Gorbinvar, in Bonerust, he broke a centuries-old treaty between our realms, then bartered with your life to avoid war. From that moment on, you were destined to live or die at the whim of my court.”

Estella opened her mouth as if to interrupt, but Azarn gripped her clenched fist and pressed her knuckles against the armrest of her chair, indicating there was more to the tale than the Fire King was willing to share.

He released his wife’s hand. “But when I learned the identity of Arrowyn’s prized slave, I saw an opportunity. Your death would be a waste when your life could bring me many advantages. But even so, he must—” The king broke off as if he’d said too much, then steepled his hands in contemplation. “Still, you are a murderer of your own blood and must be punished for your vile crime. Fortunately for you, I am a man who enjoys gambling with fate, especially someone else’s. So…”

He trailed off again, his focus shifting to his dead sister, Ruhh, who floated two feet off the ground behind the queen, her gaze still boring through me.

“And so?” I asked into the growing silence. “What were you about to tell me?”

“You have a choice to make, Zali of the Earth Realm. Complete a few tasks of my choosing for our amusement and the chance to marry my son. Or be put to death before the morning turns to noon.”

A laugh burst out of me. “Marry your son? But that’s ridiculous. Surely you’re joking.”

He blinked, his expression blank. “No. I’m as serious as the blade that will soon cleave your head from your neck if you choose the option to die instead of compete.”

Compete? Who or what would I be competing with?

“Why do you want your son tied to a human? We have no magic. No great power. And you just accused me of a terrible crime. I can’t believe you’d want me for a daughter.”

He laughed, indicating Ruhh. “Why not? I lack one of my sisters. And you share a bloodline with the gold makers. Your kingdom, if I can call Mydorian that, is aligned with the reaver elves. If I am related by marriage to their precious Earth Realm queen, then I can help you control the gold.”

“So this is about wealth and greed? How predictable. How dull.”

“And don’t forget power,” he added. “Everything in the Five Realms is about power.”

“Perhaps for the kings, who obsess over destroying what they cannot own. But I’m more concerned with maintaining peace and balance. Your plans disgust me.”

“Are you refusing my offer, then?” he asked, dropping his head back against the throne and staring through hooded eyes. “My courtiers will be sorely disappointed. They adore competitions, and I do love to please them.”

Cheers erupted below the dais, confirming the fire fae’s enthusiasm.

Nausea churned my stomach, my mind racing. If there was any way to survive, then I had to at least try, which meant I’d have to complete tasks for the fire fae’s entertainment. And if living meant I’d end up married to the prince—a wholly repulsive idea—then as his wife, I could at least wait for an opportunity to kill him, escape, find Arrow. And then end him, too.

I raised my chained hands, pushing unruly hair behind my ears, then lifted my chin. “And if I agree, what kind of tasks must I complete and how many?”

Azarn smiled, excitement sparking in his green eyes. “Three entertainments of my choosing. You will learn the details prior to their commencement.”

“If I have no clue what I’ll be facing, I won’t have time to prepare.”

“Precisely,” answered Prince Bakhur. “That’s the idea, you see.”

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