Page 97 of King of Fire and Flames

“All right. I’m going,” I shouted over my shoulder, then grabbed the points of Arrow’s ears and tugged him closer, breathing a promise over his lips. “I love you. Always and forever. Please forgive me for ever doubting your loyalty.”

“I’ll forgive you for any mistake or deed as long as you’re mine and I am yours.”

“I’d better go, but I’ll see you tomorrow night. Please don’t be late, and make sure you eat that last persimmon the moment you break free of the chains.”

“Fine. I’ll think of you with every bite.”

Dragging my eyes from the heart-wrenching sight of the Storm King in chains, I forced myself to turn away and leave the dungeon, not stopping as I passed the inanimate guards.

The khareek led me through the fire water and out of the moat, then I hurried toward the palace and sneaked into the chamber next to Azarn’s, where I hoped he was keeping the Sayeeda.

Entering the room, I found Ari in a meditation pose, cross-legged in front of the large windows that overlooked the palace’s tallest spires set aglow by a burnt-orange sunset.

“Ari,” I whispered, not wanting to startle her. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak with you about—”

“Estella has already shared the plan with me.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“It must. It’s our only option.”

I sat beside her on the red alnarah rug, the wool soft between my fingers. She squinted at my hair, a mass of unraveling braids, ran her fingers over the shorter side, then brushed dirt off my tunic. Other than a bit of filth, the lava water had left no mark on me.

“I’ve been in the cells below the moat. Arrow is weak, but he and Raiden are ready for tomorrow. I gave him persimmons.”

Ari laughed. “Oh, he must’ve been thrilled by such a gift. The effect of the fruit on his powers will be minimal, but it will help him heal faster from the beating Azarn said his guards had inflicted. As soon as Melaya’s power is disabled, Arrow’s strength will return. Do not worry about him. We must beg the gods to help Estella subdue Nukala.”

“So, let’s say she succeeds… picture me standing beside Bakhur, Sun Realm rituals droning on as our friends burst into the hall. We’ll draw our reaver cloaks around us, remove the mergelyn anklets, and then what happens? Will Arrow turn the hall to dust, like he did with Gorbinvar’s smithy?”

“And kill hundreds of innocents, perhaps including us, destroying Taln in the process? No, the Fire Court must stand. Unfortunately, we cannot know in advance who will attend the ceremony or their positions during it. Our best chance is to target Azarn, Bakhur, and Melaya, then fight like the existence of the realms depends upon us winning.”

Because in truth, it likely did.

If Azarn controlled Arrow and then the gold trade through me, life for the fae of the realms would become extremely unpleasant. We had to win. There was no other option.

Ari embraced me tightly, insisting I get a good night’s sleep—an impossible task—before sending me back to my chamber to meet the court’s royal cloth workers.

They dressed me in a black gown featuring a neckline that plunged to my stomach and a long, flared skirt with slits reaching my thighs. Sheer fabric adorned with white gemstones, shimmering in rainbow hues with each step, covered my chest and arms.

The red flames and golden birds embroidered on the main part of the gown no doubt symbolized that the Sun Realm claimed ownership of me—the Earth Realm Princess with reaver blood flowing through my veins—and all of the Light Realm’s gold.

But tomorrow, we would not fail. We couldn’t fail.

Azarn and Melaya were finished, doomed. We would defeat them.

I whispered those words like a mantra, a spell, praying that if I chanted them hard enough, my fervent wishes would come true.

The image of Arrow, weak and in chains, kept plaguing me, and I thumped my forehead against the wall three times before resolving to channel my fear more productively.

Instead of resting, I spent most of the night practicing sword strikes with a broken broom handle. A poor excuse for a weapon, but wielding it soothed my anxiety.

The last thing I wanted was to toss and turn for hours in bed, mulling over my fate. Because if we failed tomorrow night, I’d be married to Bakhur, and the only man I had ever loved would be dead.

Or worse, I thought. A horrific image flashed through my mind—the Storm King hanging helpless over the Sentura Pyre.

Chapter 30

Arrow

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