Page 9 of King of Fire and Flames

I released a loud sigh. “If either of you can get word to Arrow, please inform him that he’s a worthless piece of lizard shit, and that an unbroken fire dragon would be more loyal, more honorable than him. And tell him… tell him when he least expects it, I’ll come for him, and it won’t be a pleasant reunion.”

Raiden snorted and slammed the door in my face, locking it briskly and leaving me to gape, slack-jawed, at my new temporary residence.

It looked comfortable, which surprised me. I wondered why the fire fae hadn’t thrown me into a stinking dungeon far beneath their dreadful palace, like the Storm Idiot had done when I first arrived in Coridon.

I strolled around the room, taking inventory of all it contained.

Three metal oil lamps hung on hooks on the semi-circular walls, illuminating a canopy bed, a plump couch, a desk, a mirrored dresser, and a tall wooden closet. Behind a screen painted with flames, I found a door leading to a bathroom containing a tub, basin, and a toilet. Except for the white fur blankets and cushions, every item in the large room was black or a shade very close to it.

A bank of arched windows ranged on the stone wall facing the sea, unfortunately too high to access, but I sighed in relief at the window seat on the right side of the bed. Even obstructed by bars, the view of the crescent moon and dark ocean was beautiful. A pleasant place to sit, contemplate my fate, and plot my escape.

The palace was perched on formidable cliffs at the far point of a cape, so even if I somehow prized the bars off the window and jumped, I would wind up splattered on the rocks. Food for the crabs when the tide lapped hungrily in.

Although the room was attractive and comfortable, with air heated to the perfect temperature, and according to Esen, I would be well-fed, I hoped I wouldn’t live here long. Even if that meant the fire fae killed me. Because if I couldn’t escape, death was preferable to living out my life as a prisoner.

I shook the dirt from the Storm Idiot’s cloak, contemplated throwing it through the bars of the window, and then folded it neatly on a shelf inside the large closet made of glossy red wood.

Then I stripped off my sweaty leathers and bathed in the tub before sliding into a black nightdress that had been laid out neatly on the bed.

Fighting tears, I slid under the covers and spent at least an hour or two worrying about Van and Ari, wondering if they’d heard the news of Arrow’s betrayal. Praying they were safe.

Eventually, I fell into nightmares set in the pavilion in Coridon, with the Storm King touching me everywhere. And worse—whenever he stopped, I moaned and begged him to continue.

Chapter 3

Leaf

King Azarn’s throne room had the claustrophobic atmosphere of a tomb. High windows granted entry to the late-morning sunshine, and flames glowed from inside long channels set into the marble floor, neither light sources strong enough to chase the shadows from the farthest corners of the hall.

As Esen shoved me though the enormous, open double doors, an ogre’s voice boomed out, introducing me to the fire courtiers. “Fae of Taln, I present Zali Omala of the Earth Realm, the outlaw princess of Mydorian, and King Azarn’s valued guest.”

A hushed silence resonated, followed by hundreds of whispers.

Esen grinned at Raiden, both flanking me as they pushed me down a center aisle toward an oval, black-stone dais, where five fae perched on tall, narrow thrones, King Azarn on the largest, most ornate.

When we reached the bottom of the dais stairs, Esen pulled me to a halt. The king’s spine straightened as he waved a ringed hand at me. “Zali Omala, you may approach.”

With careful footsteps, I mounted twenty stairs, stopping in front of the king, my gaze not once leaving his. The scent of smoldering wood from his crown mixed with a heady perfume of frankincense assaulted my senses, the combination not entirely unpleasant.

“Welcome to the Sun Realm, Princess,” he said, his body draped in black and the crown of dark flames licking his brow.

I cleared my throat. “I can’t truthfully say it’s a pleasure to be here, King Azarn.”

Seated on his right, a striking female drew a sharp breath, as if shocked by my words. She wore a gown of soft folds of silver that shone like liquid starlight, her long black hair framing eyes of palest blue. In appearance, she was the Fire King’s opposite, and if she turned out to be his queen, then I prayed the same could be said of her character.

I’d taken an instant dislike to Azarn, and I certainly didn’t trust him. It would be some comfort if his lady partner was blessed with an entirely different nature.

“This is my wife,” he said coldly, “Queen Estella, from the Crystal Realm of Night and Stars. Do you know of that kingdom?”

“Yes. I may be human, but I’m not a fool. And I happen to be in possession of all my memories again.”

The queen inclined her head in greeting, and I returned the gesture, matching her somber expression. She pointed to the fae sitting on the other side of her husband. “Princess Zali, this is our son, Prince Bakhur.”

The male rose in a flurry of silver-and-black material, bowed, and gave me a charming smile. He was predictably tall, his body well-shaped, and loose brown curls flopped over gold-flecked, hazel eyes that, unfortunately, reminded me of a gold addict’s over-confident gaze.

With a subtle leer adorning his handsome face, he linked his hands behind his back, walked forward, and paced a tight circle around me. “You will do,” he said.

My heart stuttered, then pumped double time. “What precisely will I do for, Prince Bakhur?”

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