Page 41 of King of Fire and Flames

I spun back to Arrow. “Is this a joke?” I asked, stupidly revealing my shock. It never helped to show an enemy my true feelings. Whether it be fear, surprise, or heartbreak—I locked my emotions inside me.

But this—this was too fucking much to repress.

“King Azarn has never been more serious,” said the Storm Prick, tossing and catching a bone-hilted blade with infuriating calm.

While my pulse thundered in my ears, he stalked toward me like a Mydorian forest cat, his limbs loose but strong, ready to pounce and destroy his prey in an instant. In that moment, I saw beneath the facade of the golden king. The sensual lightning god. Beautiful. Fearless. In control.

It was all a game.

He wasn’t civilized. He was a savage, reveling in violence and cruelty. Fae scum, just like I thought the day he’d thrown me in the river, and then left me to my fate in Coridon’s dungeon. Drunk on his beauty, over the weeks of my captivity, I’d let the pleasure of his lying mouth and murderer’s fingers blind and bind me to him, like those poor, feckless auron kanaras.

What a fool I’d been.

Running my thumbnail over the carvings on my knife hilt, realization struck. Azarn had just handed me an opportunity. A gift. I could try to kill Arrowyn Ramiel today. Something I’d dreamed about since the day of my arrest.

I could do it now.

End the Storm King.

Stab the smug smirk from his lips.

I faced Azarn, and let my gaze skim the silent members of his family, motionless in the seats around him, as if they’d been painted into the scene. A glamorous but depressing family portrait, only their lips twitching like hungry ghouls, impatient to feast on my soul.

“Remind me of the rules again,” I said.

“Arrowyn Ramiel may do anything he likes to you, even kill you. In return, you can wound him, but not fatally. If you murder the King of Storms and Feathers, your life is forfeit.”

Ah, what a neat little plan to finish us off. No matter who won, the two greatest pains in Azarn’s ass would be neatly dealt with.

Instead of protesting, I nodded as if the rules were fair, but everyone present knew they weren’t. Even Arrow, who stared at me with such raw intensity that for a single foolish moment, I remembered how it had felt when he looked at me that way while buried deep inside me.

I spun the knife in my hand, clicked the bones on each side of my neck, then started toward him.

“Wait,” said Azarn, stroking Nukala’s hair. “I have more instructions. If you make it out of the gate into the Fen Forest, good luck to you. But know this: two greivon dragons will fly above you at all times, eager to sink their talons into your flesh if you attempt to escape.”

What in the realms was a greivon dragon? Regardless, if they decided to burn me to a crisp, all I could do was wave my knife around and shout a lot. I’d be dead before I even tried to run.

“Well then, shall we begin, Princess?” said the Storm bastard, circling me slowly.

I held my nerve, spinning on my heel as the words he’d spoken the day he left the Mydorian forest weeks ago whispered through my mind.

“Remember who you are—my winged gift, forever my Aldara,” he had said. He’d also sworn to always come for me when I needed him. To raze realms to save me. Pay any cost to keep me safe. No matter what. And, now, here he was—about to try to kill me.

What a rotten liar.

“No armor?” I asked, raising a brow as my gaze slid down his body. Bare-chested, he was dressed only in black leather pants with metal kneecaps and heavy, calf-hugging black boots, his wings hidden. “Not even your famed breastplate.”

“Surprised? You should be used to seeing me half-naked or just… naked.” He licked his lips and scanned my body. “You’ve grown thinner since we last met. Aren’t they feeding you properly?”

Something dark flickered in his gaze. It looked like anger, perhaps sparked by a memory of our shared past. Or a desire to rip my heart out through my ribs.

I clutched my dagger tighter, its hilt cold in my palm. A warm wind howled, blowing my braid over my eyes, obscuring Arrow momentarily. When I flicked my hair away, he’d moved closer, his weapon raised into a strike position.

Once, he said he loved no one and nothing and never would, and those were the words I would cling to during the fight. For it was Arrowyn Ramiel’s truth. Back in Coridon, he’d stated it clearly. I just hadn’t been listening properly at the time.

As we circled each other, I inched in the direction of the Ashen Souls’ gates. If I made it into the forest and found the serpent fae, Vyprin, perhaps he would help me for a price.

“Are we going to dance like this all day?” Arrow asked, keeping pace with my slow-weaving movements.

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