Page 55 of King of Fire and Flames

He knew things about Arrow that I didn’t. Perhaps even how I came to be at the Fire Court. I needed to coax every detail from Grendal’s son before I went mad wondering if the Storm King was a villain or, shock-horror, actually my savior.

Despite a thorough search of the town’s three taverns, trading shops, and the common areas of the palace, I had no luck. The Storm Court party was nowhere to be found. However, the afternoon wasn’t an entire waste, because I took the opportunity to test the limits of the mergelyn anklet.

It didn’t take long to work out that if I tried to walk or run past Melaya’s magical boundaries, I passed out cold. Even when I ventured waist deep in the churning sea below the cliffs, my mind went blank and I regained consciousness on the black-sand beach, as if an invisible forcefield had ejected me.

The same thing happened at the bottom of the fire geyser field, at the edge of the forest, and again when I scaled a section of the city wall, climbing the thick, overgrown vines like a ladder. I woke up on a table of chicken fillets, a winged butcher scowling down at me with his sharp talons flexed.

In need of a bath, I retreated to my room and tried to set aside feelings of despair. I’d discovered that escape from the Fire Court was nigh on impossible, so I attempted to distract myself from my hopeless situation by rifling through memories of home. I remembered precious times spent with my parents, my brother Van, but not Quin—the twin who had broken my heart and increased my trust issues tenfold.

And never Arrow. I did my best to pretend he hadn’t been to Mydorian and helped me win back the crown from the usurper who’d held my birthright hostage.

I chased all images of the Storm King from my mind, replacing them with scenes of playing boardgames with Father or hunting with Mother, because if I let them in, I would need to ask myself a very difficult question.

Why would Arrowyn Ramiel do so much to help me only to later hand me over to another realm?

I quashed the thought before it took root in my mind, reminding myself that all fae were liars. They hated my species. And the Storm King was likely playing a long game to destroy me.

Why?

Because through me, he could control Mydorian and make a fortune from a legitimate gold trade in the Earth Realm, increasing his wealth and ultimate power in the other realms.

In my experience, greed trumped love nearly every single time.

And to believe it, all I had to do was convince myself Zaret had fabricated the changes made in Coridon since I was last there.

That would be easy.

If nothing else, I was skilled at sticking to my delusions if I thought they might protect me from future heartbreak.

Chapter 17

Leaf

While I dressed for dinner, I contemplated Bakhur’s offer to attend his little party.

Although an evening of criticizing Arrow sounded tempting, scowling at my golden nemesis across a dining table would be an infinitely more satisfying experience than listening to Bakhur whine about him for hours on end.

So, certain I’d made the correct choice, at the bottom of the stairs that connected my tower to the rest of the palace, I turned left, making my way to the Great Hall instead of seeking out the Fire Prince and his spiteful friends.

During dinner, as usual, chaos reigned in the hall. The atmosphere was smoky and dark, the food spicy, and the music and laughter loud. The heat blasting from countless braziers and an enormous fireplace on a side wall raised constant beads of sweat on my brow. The fire courtiers liked things hot.

With Bakhur and his aunt, Marcella, absent, I sat at the high table between Estella and Azarn, Arrow on the Fire King’s right, and Ruhh hovering by his side.

If the ghost princess hated Arrow as much as she claimed to, why did she address him in that sickly sweet voice and run her cold fingers through his hair so frequently? Grinding my teeth, I vowed not to look at them so I could enjoy my dinner without losing it.

As I ate my clay-pot stew of spiced root vegetables and apricots, I sipped wine and peppered the queen with questions about the Crystal Realm, her birthplace, doing my best to block out Ruhh and Arrow’s conversation.

Estella answered my questions in a guarded manner, relaying very little useful information about her land, powers, or how she might help me escape. As she spoke, her expression was wary, as if she suspected I might suddenly announce what she had done in the Arena of Ashen Souls. And tell her husband who she really was—a queen who possessed more power than he could ever dream of having.

A queen who I hoped was still my ally.

After dinner, the king rose and strutted across the front of the dais to address his courtiers. “Tonight, a particularly pleasing event will take place,” he told them. “For your entertainment, a traitorous orc will dance over a fire for as long as he is able to stay conscious.”

I choked on a mouthful of wine.

Orion—it had to be.

My heart pounded erratically as my dinner curdled in my stomach and three guards entered the hall. Chains jangled as they dragged a hooded prisoner to the middle of the floor, where a small pyre was being erected. Melaya glided forward and worked fire magic into a rope that he used to tie Orion to a large pole above the fire.

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