Page 8 of King of Fire and Flames

“You’ll see tomorrow,” said Esen ominously.

I glanced over my shoulder at Raiden who had Arrow’s cloak slung over his arm. “Did you carry me unconscious from the carriage and tie me to that pole?”

Silence was my only answer.

“What’s wrong with you, Raiden? Left your tongue in Coridon?”

Esen paused on a small landing. “Stop pestering him,” she said. “He hasn’t been feeling himself of late.”

I shrugged. As if I cared about the feelings of my captors.

We stepped through a door leading to a narrow staircase that spiraled up the inside of a tower, and other than a few well-placed sconces, the stone walls were bare. We started up the stairs, Raiden behind me and Esen in front.

On the sixth step, with my hands spread as wide as the chain allowed, I lunged and ripped the knife from the sheath at her waist and kicked my boot up behind me, hitting Raiden’s groin. Holding my breath, I drove the blade toward the blue-haired fiend’s chest as a blast of magic threw me against the stone wall.

“Fucking dust.” I dropped in a heap and stared up at Esen’s grinning face. “How did you do that?”

“Same way your brother Quin did.” Esen grabbed my throat. “Now stop wasting our time with old tricks and get up.”

“What can I say? I’m a creature of habit,” I said, wishing I could reach around and rub the bruises blooming on my back.

With a hand cupping his balls, Raiden groaned, then pulled me onto my feet.

“You all right?” Esen asked.

He nodded.

“Didn’t I warn you to watch out for this one? She’s worse than a feral orc.”

While they dragged me up more stairs, eventually stopping on the seventh landing, I wondered why she’d needed to warn Raiden when he was already well-acquainted with my fondness for violent escapes.

Had he lost his memories as well as his entire personality?

Two winged trolls stood on either side of a carved oak door, and to my left, stars shone through a small, unglazed window. I stood on my toes and peered through it.

Raiden dragged me away, but not before I’d seen the jagged black rocks at the bottom of the tower. There would be no easy escape from my new lofty prison.

Esen unlocked the cuffs around my wrist and hung the chain from her belt. “Go inside,” she said, opening the door.

Ignoring her, I smiled at the troll guards, but neither met my gaze, which was disappointing. During my time in Coridon, I’d learned much could be achieved by treating my captors with kindness—alliances forged and escape plots hatched once friendships were firmly established.

I should probably remember that whenever I spoke to Esen. If I could soften her up, she might prove useful. But was it worth befriending someone who sold their loyalty to the highest bidder?

She frowned as I stared at her, unmoving. “Zali, I won’t ask again.”

“Esen.” I tried a smile, which she ignored. “Please tell me why I’m here in Taln.”

Gripping my shoulders, she gently pushed me backward into the room. “You will stay here in your new chambers until the morning. You won’t starve. Food will be served. At some point tomorrow, you’ll be brought into the Great Hall. There, all will be made clear.”

“But—”

Raiden swept past Esen and threw the cloak inside the room. As he started to close the door, I pressed my weight against it. “Wait, Raiden. Please. Can you get a message to your king?”

“Azarn?” he asked, his voice a little rougher than I remembered.

“No. The Storm Idiot.”

Brown eyes stared at me, and Esen crossed her arms, tapping her boot against the floor.

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