Page 66 of King of Fire and Flames

“Not everything is as it seems, Zali,” she replied, her gaze traveling along the table until it landed on the king.

“And Nukala? He doesn’t do much except fawn over Azarn. Is his sole function to entertain the king and spy on Arrow’s party?”

She crunched a piece of twisted candy between her teeth. “As I said, not everyone is as they first seem.”

“Everything,” I corrected. “You said not everything was as it seems, not everyone.”

“No wonder you drove Arrowyn insane,” she said with a huff. “You’re a stickler for details.”

I scanned the table. Bakhur and his father were deep in conversation, their dark heads bowed together. Ruhh had returned and performed a ghastly dance for Estella, her mottled bones highlighted red by the stained glass and flickering flames as she spun, her mouth set in a distorted grimace that may very well have signaled pleasure.

“Bakhur doesn’t seem very interested in me,” I said to Marcella, feigning disappointment.

“He’s a prince. His ego requires stroking. He invited you to eat with him, and you rejected his offer. You should seek him out more often. Enjoy his company.”

Marcella was right. Despite the impossibility of relishing time spent with Bakhur, I needed to appear as though I might make a biddable wife. Earn his trust, so I could one day exploit it.

Smoothing my braid over my shoulder, I stood up, smiling at Marcella before strolling behind the row of seats and stopping at Bakhur’s side.

“The dessert was delicious,” I said for want of a better opener.

His head jolted up, gold eyes fixing on me with malicious interest. “Ah, my future bride has returned. Tell me, if I asked nicely, would you sit on my lap now that the sugar has sweetened your temperament?”

It took all my strength not to roll my eyes so hard they’d fall out of my head. “Thank you, but I’ve been sitting too long and prefer to stand. Bakhur, no one has spoken to me about our marriage arrangements. I presume it’s still going ahead. We… really are betrothed?”

“Yes, of course.” Bakhur sighed. “Now you’re boring me, human.” He waved his hand, and the low flames that licked along the conservatory walls burst into motion, leaping high and forming seven fiery bodies, three times larger than a tall fae.

I watched in horror as they spun toward the table in an explosion of sparks and embers.

“How do you like my fire tanourans?” asked Bakhur.

The creatures writhed and twirled to the rhythmic whoosh and crackle of their own movements, black eyes staring blankly ahead. Ruhh laughed, clapping her hands in delight. But I couldn’t stop myself from flinching every time the tanourans’ arms reached toward me.

I cleared my throat. “They’re very… warming.”

He scoffed, then flicked his fingers at me, a dismissive gesture if ever I’d seen one. “Go speak to Mother about the wedding. The arrangements have nothing to do with me.”

“I will. When is your next private party? I’d love to attend, since I missed the last one.” Lowering my voice, I whispered in his ear, “I look forward to getting to know you in a more relaxed environment.”

Beside us, King Azarn snorted. “I’m sure my son will enjoy your presence, Princess. But Bakhur’s company is something you must surely learn to endure.”

“I will do my best.” I bowed my head and started toward the queen, who sat still and composed, as if deep in meditation.

“Queen Estella,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Can we speak about the wedding?”

She stared ahead, her iridescent, indigo-and-black gown sparkling with stars that moved like they floated on water, the material alive with magic.

“Don’t disturb her,” Marcella called out. “The queen is communing with her family from the Star Court. She reacts with aggression when startled.”

Withdrawing my hand slowly, I said, “Thank you for the warning, Marcella. Please tell the queen I would like to meet with her to discuss the wedding as soon as it is convenient.”

I dipped a flustered curtsy and did my best not to run as I marched toward the exit while the fire dancers whirled around me, embers falling on my clothes and the smell of burned cloth assaulting my nose.

Esen had joined the two soldiers guarding the door outside the conservatory, and she pushed off the wall as soon as she saw me. “Come, Zali,” she said, “I’ll make sure you find your way back to the tower.”

“I don’t need hel—”

She silenced me with a glare, and I muttered something nonsensical about the conservatory disorientating me, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

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