Page 31 of King of Fire and Flames

A wave of doubt engulfed me as I searched for his face in the crowd. What if he hadn’t betrayed me? What if he was in Taln to help me?

But then I recalled how he’d rushed away from Mydorian soon after Raiden arrived, as if he couldn’t escape from me fast enough. And the two miserable letters he’d written. Dry, passionless wastes of parchment.

The other night, when he arrived at Taln and Azarn made us dance, Arrow hadn’t specifically denied his role in my arrest. But perhaps I’d goaded him into an argument too soon and not given him the chance to speak up. Old habits died hard, I guessed.

Getting under the Storm King’s skin had once been my favorite entertainment.

King Azarn rose and lifted his palm toward his subjects. “Silence, fae of the Supreme Sun. Today, the Princess of Dirt and Stones—”

“Dust and Stones,” I muttered.

Azarn cleared his throat. “The Earth Princess has entered the Arena of Ashen Souls, and if you prick your ears, you’ll hear her ragged breathing as she walks forward for my instructions. The human speaks boldly, but her body betrays the truth. Enjoy the elixir of her fear.”

The courtiers laughed, a few with long snouts howling. In every direction, dappled, green light twisted the limbs and features of orcs, trolls, jinn, and other fire fae into hideous shapes. The dark wings of the more human-shaped fae stirred the air in excitement.

Many fire fae were as beautiful as the night sky, but the bitterness in their unfriendly gazes rendered their handsome faces ugly. And going by the scowls directed my way, no one here wished for my survival, least of all their king.

“Dismount and walk to Azarn,” said Esen. “Don’t do anything stupid. Melaya will kill you before you can draw breath to run.”

I did as she said and marched forward, my chin raised and shoulders squared, wishing I could wipe my clammy palms on my clothes, but refusing to give in to the urge.

“Azarn,” I said, inclining my head as I stared up at emerald eyes floating in his gaunt face.

“Welcome. Today, you must venture into the forest and return with a petal from the blood orchid. If you succeed and make it back to this arena, you will face your second opponent in battle. Once again, use of magic will be banned.”

“May I have a clue or two to help me find the plant?”

“No, you may not.”

I ground my teeth. “Then can you at least tell me what it looks like?”

With a long-suffering sigh, he flicked his cloak off one shoulder and leaned over his knees. “The orchid is quite small and therefore difficult to locate amongst the foliage. But once you see it, it’s easy to recognize by the long petals of a crimson so dark they appear black. Fire feeds it, not water. How you locate it is your business. If you’re not back within the hour, we’ll assume you’re dead and find my son a different bride.”

“But what if I’m not dead, only having trouble returning?”

“Well, you soon will be. So there’s nothing for us to worry about.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one who’d get eaten by the serpent fae who guarded the orchid. The same creature that Azarn had failed to mention, which only confirmed my suspicions: he definitely didn’t want me as a daughter-in-law.

I wished I understood more about how the Fire King’s power worked. Did it play a part in blocking the magic from other realms in Taln? Or did Melaya alone achieve the incredible feat?

The king and his mage must be vulnerable in some way. Every being in the realms had a weakness. I simply needed to discover theirs.

“Esen,” boomed the king, interrupting my musings. “Guide the human to the forest gate, and the courtiers will entertain themselves while we wait to see if she returns.” His merciless eyes bored into mine. “And if you don’t make it back, then farewell, Zali Omala. I can’t say it’s been a pleasure to know you.”

“Likewise,” I whispered through stiff lips. Esen’s palm pressed into the small of my back. “Wait,” I said, not moving. “King Azarn, please, can I take a weapon?”

“You cannot.”

Queen Estella’s pale gaze flicked to her husband, her knuckles white against the burnished gold of the chair’s armrest. Marcella snickered, and Prince Bakhur only stared at me while the runes on my back itched painfully.

Surely death would be preferable to a husband who reveled in cruelty.

“Since I’m essentially your fiancée, Bakhur, do you have any tips or advice?” I asked.

He tapped the point of his chin. “None I can think of. Oh, wait, yes. Here’s a tip. Don’t eat the petals of the orchid. Instant death if you do.”

“Good to know,” I said with a smile, silently cursing him into the hell realms.

---