Page 3 of King of Fire and Flames

With a sharp inhalation, I shoved the agony into the section of my mind where my lost memories had lain hidden before the sight of my younger brother Van’s face triggered the spell’s release.

Every time guilt struck about killing my twin brother, Quin, I forced it into that same recess in my brain where I kept everything I didn’t want to think about or feel, such as the pain that thrummed through my blood right now.

And intrusive thoughts of Arrowyn fucking Ramiel. They were in there, too. Thousands upon thousands of them.

The King of Storms and Feathers had never loved me. He’d betrayed me. Cast me off like some used-up piece of garbage. Once, I’d considered him the love of my life, but now I knew him for what he truly was—the realms’ greatest liar and deceiver.

My forever-enemy.

And the fae I vowed to despise long after I had destroyed him, sucked the last breath from his poisonous lips, and buried him under the desert sand of his precious Light Realm.

His body would rot slowly and disintegrate, transforming into the gold dust that ruled his life and had ruined mine. I could think of no other reason that he betrayed me other than in sick pursuit of greater sovereignty over the gold trade.

It was his only obsession.

Other than me.

Thinking of him, rage and sorrow shook through me, his stupid cloak of feathers around my shoulders scraping at the fresh wounds of heartbreak. I longed to rip it to shreds. And I would. At the first opportunity.

Oh, Arrow.

How could you break me like this? After everything you said. Everything you did. And all you promised.

For dust’s sake, why?

A wave of nausea made me gag, but I dug my nails into the leather on the outside of my thigh, willing my limbs not to shake. Never would I let anyone see how badly he had hurt me. How grief and longing battled with the hate simmering through my blood.

The fae I had loved was now dead to me, and I would not let his ghost destroy me.

I had Van and the people of Mydorian to care for, a kingdom to put to rights. Against all odds, I’d returned to them once. And I would do it again.

Somehow.

Even if I went home in a body bag.

Esen’s magic burned hotter, scorching my neck over the Aldara mark that I wished I could cut from my skin. Burn it, I thought. Burn the wretched thing off.

She snarled, and the fiery whorls of magic disappeared, reabsorbed into the wasteland of her bitter soul.

I smiled at her face, a mask of constipated violence. “So that’s confirmed. You’ve been ordered not to hurt me. Good to know.”

Esen’s eyes narrowed. “As you are aware, I don’t always follow instructions.”

A memory of hot flames and ice-cold fear shuddered over me—the day she tried to push me into a vat of melted gold in Coridon’s gold foundry.

Wracked with bitterness because I’d unwittingly stolen her king’s attention, she had always despised the sight of me. Jealousy was indeed a curse, and unfortunately, mine to bear. Because at last, Arrow’s feral guard dog had me exactly where she wanted me. Trapped, with no way to escape.

Hers to toy with.

But fuck her… I didn’t plan to cower in fear, now or anytime soon. Not to her, and not to anyone if I could help it.

Squaring my shoulders, I straightened my spine. “Yes, I remember what a liability you were and still are to your king,” I said, scanning her tight leathers and molded black-and-red body armor as she glanced away and tucked a strand of blue hair behind her pointed ear.

As far as I could tell, no swords were strapped to her body or knives hidden beneath her clothing. Perhaps she believed the borrowed fire magic was enough protection. And if so, I hoped for the chance to prove her wrong.

I inspected the interior of the carriage.

Black metal blinds covered the windows, and a wan orange light emanated from a lamp hanging above Esen’s shoulder, saving us from traveling in complete darkness.

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