Page 40 of King of Fire and Flames

All the way back to my tower, I gave thanks for the way she had softened toward me. In the last few days, this fae who had once tried to kill me seemed gentler, kinder, almost protective of me.

Perhaps in time, she would be a true friend and ally, and I could take her back to Mydorian, two victorious females, riding high after destroying our enemies.

The Storm King and the Fire King.

Chapter 12

Leaf

The next day after lunch, Melaya, instead of Esen, collected me from the tower for the final event, his eyes burning holes through the back of my skull as I finished braiding my hair, one question spinning through my mind.

If I survived today, would Azarn let me live? Because it was clear he didn’t want me to actually marry his son. I had no doubt he’d stop at nothing to ensure my demise in the final fight. His entertainments were a ruse, an excuse to kill the one female in the realms who had influence over what he wanted most. Gold.

My stomach churned as I smoothed my tunic over my leathers and turned to face Melaya. At least I’d finished most of my plate of baked fish and fresh bread. A good meal made everything infinitely more bearable. I just prayed it wasn’t my last.

With my hands cuffed in front of me, the fire mage pulled me down the stairs, through the palace’s back corridors, then to the stables—all parts of the palace I was familiar with. Unfortunately. Other than my visit to Luna, I’d mostly been confined to my room, and that troubled me.

If I managed to escape, I had no idea in which direction to flee. I couldn’t even find my way to the palace’s storehouse and certainly had no clue where the nearest ports were located. At every opportunity, I’d driven Esen mad with endless questions, which got me nowhere, since she remained tight-lipped until she lost her temper and swore at me.

“Where’s Esen today?” I asked Melaya as he threw me on a large white horse and fastened my chain to the saddle pommel. The beast’s impressive black wings flared out from muscular shoulders, blowing my hair over my face. “And Nukala? I rarely see you two apart.”

“My brother and Esen are occupied,” the mage said, mounting behind me. “It hasn’t gone unnoticed that she was warming toward you.”

Damn. I hoped Azarn wasn’t punishing her for being nice to me.

The breath whooshed from my lungs as the winged horse leaped over an erupting fire geyser, and then soared through the air, arriving at the Fen Forest in no time.

As Melaya marched me into the arena, the Fire King silenced his courtiers with an abrupt wave of his hand before turning to greet me. “Welcome, Zali Omala, Princess of Dirt and Stone.”

I sighed and swallowed a retort. Azarn got my title wrong on purpose, and I refused to give him the satisfaction of appearing affected. Today, I’d silently tell him to go fuck himself.

“If you survive the final entertainment,” he continued, “you will marry Prince Bakhur and become a member of my family.”

“Then I’ll be your daughter,” I announced loudly, causing laughter to ripple through the courtiers. I quickly scanned the dais and the crowd, searching for Arrow, unable to find him. That was strange. If he wanted to see me fail supremely, now was likely the best time to do so.

Azarn grimaced but didn’t contradict me. If I won today and he didn’t kill me, I would soon be his relative by marriage. And as long as Bakhur found a way to impregnate me while I bore the Aldara mark, I would be the mother of the heirs to his kingdom.

Esen strode across the arena, her mouth grim as she unchained me, then handed me a long knife, and not just any knife. It was his knife—Arrow’s. The one made of Auryinnian metal that he’d thrown to me after Quin tumbled us from the Mydorian palace’s balcony. The very knife I’d used to kill my brother.

Nausea rolled through my stomach. “I’d prefer a sword, if possible,” I said, my firm voice masking a turmoil of emotions. Fear. Anger. Sadness.

Azarn laughed. “Fight with that knife or with your bare hands. I don’t care which. The choice is yours.”

I bowed my head and gripped the hilt tighter.

“Now it’s time to meet your final opponent,” said Azarn, his words rough with barely contained excitement.

The arena gates creaked open, and the entire Fire Court drew a collective, ragged breath. I spun on my heel, my neck hot and my Aldara mark prickling.

My heart stopped beating.

Arrow stood on the other side of the arena, moving closer.

I took three steps backward, bewildered. My jaw snapped shut as my gaze bounced between the Fire King’s cruel green eyes and Arrow’s lopsided smirk.

A high-pitched laugh came from the dais, and I finally noticed Nukala seated at Azarn’s feet, his chest bare, his head resting on the Fire King’s lap, and black hair spilling over his legs.

There was something very odd about Melaya’s twin. A riddle that needed solving. But not now. I had bigger problems to solve than the puzzle of a powerless fire mage.

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