Page 12 of King of Fire and Flames

On the threshold of my prison, I gripped Esen’s arm. “Wait. I know you’re in a bad mood.” I gave a meaningful look to the blade in her hand. “But I have one more question. Why do you let him talk to you like that?”

“Who?” she said, pretending ignorance.

“The Fire King. For all you’ve done for him, spying in Coridon, capturing me, he doesn’t treat you very well.”

“Better than the Storm King did.”

“How so? From what I saw, Arrow loved you and appreciated your strengths.”

“My strengths!” She snorted. “And what are they?”

“You’re a powerful female, smart and unmoved by emotions. An impressive warrior and an awe-inspiring lightning wielder.”

Blinking fast, she stared at me, her mouth moving as if forming words of thanks, but then her expression shuttered, and she pushed me backward into the tower room. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery. It’s the truth.”

The door began to close.

“Wait a moment.” I pushed against a panel of wood. “When can I see Luna?”

A scowl creased her lovely face. “A prisoner is in no position to make demands.”

“It was a request.”

“Get in your room, human, and stop bothering me,” she said. “I’ve had more than enough of you.”

“How long until this so-called entertainment starts? Azarn said it might happen after dinner. What time does the court eat? And what am I meant to do while I wait?”

“I don’t know.” She pointed at the rolls of parchment and clay jars on the desk. “Write sad poetry about how mean the Storm King was to you. Play the board game by the fire.”

A checkered board sat on a table, a cluster of silver and gold pyramids piled off to the side. “I don’t know the rules. Will you teach me?” I asked as she unfastened my wrists and fixed the chain to her belt.

“I have duties.”

“Perhaps when you’ve completed them you’ll return.”

“I don’t think so.” A wry smile teasing her lips, she shut the door in my face, and then locked it.

As the sun cast a ring of orange light around the tower room, I spun in a circle, my arms outstretched to release tension, stopping when I noticed a gown of dark leather and lace spread over the bedcovers.

Did the Fire King expect me to wear a dress for the first event? If so, he really did think me stupid.

A fire crackled in a small hearth, and I inspected the dress by its strange purple light, my fingers trailing delicate panels of black lace. It was lovely but would greatly restrict my movements. And unless the first event was a dance competition, I couldn’t expect to perform well in it.

I smoothed my palms over the dirty leathers I wore, and then hurried to run the bath. After stripping, I sank into the tub and tried to relax.

My thoughts raced as I wondered what trials awaited me. Would Azarn test my courage with torture? Challenge my wit with riddles? Or was he only interested in what I could do with a sword?

Perhaps he hoped I would die fast, and then robbed of the Storm King’s tribute, he’d have an excuse to attack Coridon or Auryinnia.

After bathing, I gazed at my reflection in the dresser’s mirror and decided what I must do. Wasting no time, I tugged on a dark tunic with delicate crimson embroidery I’d found in the closet, wiped down my leathers with soapy water and set them out to dry. Then, I started training.

The semi-circular chamber was just big enough for me to move through fighting patterns, so after I stretched my limbs, I practiced in earnest, enjoying the familiar burn of muscles.

Whatever happened tonight or tomorrow, I would embrace the challenge and face it head-on. I wasn’t a quitter. Descended from a line of queens, I had people to protect, a land to care for. A brother who needed me. I would survive. There was no other choice.

I picked up the black gown and walked to the window, then flung it through the bars, watching the garment twirl down, down, down before it splayed over the rocks. Mesmerized, I imagined it was my broken body down there, as limp and lifeless as an unwanted dress.

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