Page 19 of King of Fire and Flames

Two winged fae standing on either side of the fiery tunnel lifted large rams horns to their lips and blew simultaneous, ear-splitting calls to battle.

Silence fell over the hall as I stared at the writhing flames, summoning my courage.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” boomed the king. “Go forth and entertain us.” He returned to his seat, then flicked his fingers at me. “Begin!”

I drew a breath deep into my lungs, raising my sword as I strode toward the tunnel, hoping I looked a lot more confident than I felt.

The moment I stepped onto the Dragon’s Path, the magical space expanded, the wall of flames moving farther away from my body as the ground shook and heat scorched my skin. There was no smoke, but my eyes stung and my vision blurred regardless.

With dawning horror, I watched flames peel off the side of the tunnel, merge and form the shape of a tall fae. It raised its arm, holding a sword of fire, waiting for me to move.

Fuck.

How would I get myself out of this fiery shit show?

Violent determination was the only option.

Whispering the Mydorian battle chant, I started forward, my teeth gritted and hands gripping the sword for dear life.

With every few steps I took, more flames leaped toward me, and two more creatures appeared. Their fiery arms slashed across my vision, and I ducked and wove, slicing off limbs and piercing the creatures’ hearts one by one.

Enormous, the fire beasts were terrifying, but thankfully slow, and before long, I’d slain three, then four, five, six, their bodies melting back into the tunnel walls the moment I stabbed their chests.

The most difficult thing about this challenge was the heat. It licked down my throat, and dried the moisture in my eyes, evaporating my sweat. My breath sawed in and out of me, and I tried to breathe through my nose to conserve energy, but couldn’t get enough air in.

Both fury and determination boiled inside me, growing hotter with every slash of my sword. I had to make it through the tunnel. I couldn’t let Azarn win. Nor would I allow the Storm Idiot to triumph. I would marry the damn Fire Prince if it was the only way to survive and escape this unhappy realm of ash and smoke.

I just had to keep swinging.

As I reached the halfway point, the heat intensified, the flames roaring louder all around me. Feeling dizzy, I swayed, my strength wavering as glowing embers rained down and burned through my clothes, scorching my skin.

Outside the tunnel, noise from the courtiers, cackles, grunts, and roars, could be heard over the flames of the Dragon’s Path. Most fae probably hoped I’d run from the tunnel with blackened skin, barely alive, so they could watch me die on the floor of the throne room.

Ignoring the taunting sounds, I kept two images fixed in my mind, the beloved faces of Van and Ari, and with every surge of heat, I reminded myself of the Mydorians who needed me and pushed forward with renewed vigor.

I refused to die tonight.

Another creature dropped from the ceiling of flames.

Time slowed as I spun and slashed, the end of the tunnel getting closer with each lung-scorching breath I took. Not much farther now. I could do this.

As I pulled my blade from another fire creature’s heart, leaving a swirling hole of molten embers in its place, I glimpsed the real task Azarn had set for me. A tusked fire troll snorted and bellowed near the exit, his orange eyes painfully familiar.

Gorbinvar had been raised from the dead.

Chapter 6

Leaf

Impossible.

In Bonerust, Arrow blew up the fire troll’s smithy. I watched it happen. Not a scrap of flesh or single bone shard would have survived the destruction for Azarn’s mages to reanimate with blood magic. But still, the resemblance to Gorbinvar was uncanny.

Perhaps I faced a relative.

“Zali Omala,” the troll growled out. “Human slave of Arrowyn Ramiel, the time has come for you to pay the price for murdering my father, Gorbinvar of Bonerust.”

Oh, shit. The smithy’s son.

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