Page 77 of King of Fire and Flames

That explained why he wasn’t in the hall at dinnertime. Not that I’d been looking for him too often.

“Arrow, in the book I found today, it said—”

“Sh.” Warm fingers pressed my lips. “Don’t speak yet.”

I exhaled sharply. “I’m sure I’d feel something if you-know-who was listening in.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” he said.

Then, without a word of warning, the Storm King started singing. Feather glyphs flowed bright gold over his skin, as they often did in my presence, and his voice hummed from deep in his chest. Chill bumps broke over my arms, a shiver skittering down my spine.

Who knew that Arrowyn Ramiel could carry a tune?

“Hidden talent?” I whispered, and he shot me a withering glare, not skipping a beat of the hypnotic melody.

The song reminded me of the music sung by the northern traders that often passed through Coridon, slow and eerie, with an abundance of harsh consonants, but no clear words to decipher.

The surface of the moat churned, and three creatures burst out from the lava-like water, the sight ten times more disturbing than the night I first saw them with Ruhh.

In unfortunate, gruesome detail, the sunlight highlighted their charred bones and melting flesh, and as soon as one fiery limb dissolved, another formed in its place. The khareek writhed in a state of flux, burning and remaking themselves in a constant cycle, horrible to witness. But if the creatures were in pain, they showed no outward signs.

Silent now, Arrow inclined his head in greeting.

“Prettily done, Storm King,” said the tallest khareek, swaying knee-deep in the moat as his rasped words slurred and his tongue and mouth dissolved in a blur of dripping flames.

“Can we… do anything to help you?” I asked. “You must be in pain. Are you trapped in the moat?”

“Nooooo,” the word crackled out of the fire creature’s regenerating mouth. “To be khareek is to be blessed, human. To us, pain is pleasure. Pleasure is pain. But if you wish to help us, you may tell us delicious lies. We are always hungry for those.”

Feeling Arrow’s gaze boring into me, I gave him a cool look. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just wondering if your relentless compassion will eventually rub off on me.”

“According to rumors, it’s already happened.”

The Storm King opened his mouth, but said nothing, his eyes still fixed on mine.

“Don’t make us wait,” said the mouthpiece of the trio, interrupting my staring competition with Arrow. “Feed us, and we shall decide if your lies are worthy of our magic.”

Arrow took a deep breath, but I stepped forward before he could speak. “Taln is a wonderful city,” I declared loudly.

The khareek laughed, and the smallest one slithered closer. “The Storm King should speak. His lies will be more potent than hers.”

Arrow waved a hand toward me. “See this girl here?” The khareek nodded eagerly. “I do not love her or even care about her fate.”

“Good,” hissed the creature, flames surging over its body as it writhed drunkenly. “Quite delicious. Tell us more untruths, Storm King.”

“Of course.” Arrow grinned at me. “I betrayed this girl who stands before you, and because of me, she is trapped in Taln.”

The khareek shrieked in delight as my heart rejoiced. Arrow had betrayed me, and I was in Taln because of him—both statements nothing but sweet, sweet lies.

“More, more,” the creatures chanted.

“Zali Omala, the Princess of Dust and Stones, is never my first thought when I wake, nor my last before I fall asleep. I don’t worry about her safety, and I swear I’ve never longed for her touch so badly I’d rather die than endure a life without it.”

Howling, the creatures’ bodies bent and coiled in a dance of ecstasy, their black eyes fixed on the sky as if the gods themselves descended from the clouds to gift them with untold blessings.

Arrow’s eyes blazed as he whispered directly to me, “I would never lay my life aside for Zali. Or do almost anything to keep and to treasure her.”

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