Page 18 of The Horned King

"You are making assumptions," he tells me. "You have heard stories of me and have decided that's enough to know what kind of king I am."

"You sent our messengers back in pieces," I argue. "What should I assume of you with that being my only proof?"

The coldness of his eyes starts to defrost, showing a terrifying fire underneath them. "That I don't take kindly to insults. You sent the least of your people to meet with me. That's how you treat your poor, your outcasts, your needy. You sent them to certain death, not me." For the first time since arriving, he actually looks like a living, breathing man and less like a walking corpse.

"And me?" I ask, teeth clenching.

"What about you, Elva?" he taunts. "Why did they send you? You should be considered important enough to protect, and yet, here you are. Alone with me. Clearly, they don't think much of you to send you into my kingdom with no protection."

With an incredulous laugh, I confess, "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself, thank you so fucking much for your concern."

The fire in his eyes grows as he chuckles at my outburst.

"You don't believe me?" I raise my brows, willing to throw away all common sense just to shut him up.

He appraises me, his eyes raking over my tense frame for a moment. "Oh, no, I believe you, Elva." He makes my name sound like something holy and perverse, like something to worship and curse all in one breath. Every time he says it, I feel my cheeks heat at the improper intimacy of him using it. "Perhaps one day I'll be fortunate enough to see you do so."

"I think, for your sake, you should hope not." I blow out a breath, unwilling to continue down this dangerous road. Him becoming aware of my cursed powers would only harm the small amount of progress we've made. "Fine. If you think the market is the best place to show me, we can go."

He grins, winning another round of... whatever mental game this is. Relishing in his victory at making me blush again, his eyes flare in a taunt. "Splendid. I need a drink. Hot in this carriage, isn't it?"

Six

Elva

It's incredible here.

Every direction I look, there's a tent with colorful drapery full of all kinds of wares. One tent has a man twisting metal into anything the buyer could ask for. A lifelike bird, a beautiful necklace, even a dagger with a point so sharp it needed to be wrapped in cloth before it was safe to carry around.

The next tent had a woman using her water abilities as a facial treatment, hydrating her client's skin with herb-infused water.

"Why doesn't anyone recognize you?" I ask the king as we exit the tent, walking across the way to one stained in a myriad of reds and oranges, whites, and the lightest blue, almost reflecting the color of the seaside cliffs in the distance.

"Because anyone who discovers my identity doesn't live long enough to share it with anyone else. Even the staff in Avolire aren't permitted to leave the grounds without forfeiting their lives," he explains, just passing over that gruesome detail as if it's insignificant. "Anonymity gives me a better perspective on the reality of my kingdom. If I came here in full regalia, they'd all put on a performance for me."

It makes sense, of course. And I appreciate that he wants me to see his kingdom as it is, not as a facade.

When we enter the next beautifully colorful tent, we see that a fire tender has transformed the abundance of sand around us into marketable ware. They burned the sand so hot it became glass they made into stunning sculptures.

I'm admiring the beautiful works of art when one scares me into a frozen state. I'm stuck face-to-face with the myth of the king. The skull helm and hooded cape look so real that I almost expect the glass to start blowing in the wind.

The real king, infinitely more terrifying, chuckles behind me. "That's quite a likeness," he tells the seller, chewing on some soft candy he bought a few stops back.

"Thank you," they respond.

"It's rare for anyone to have been close enough to get such detail and live to tell the tale. How did you?" King Kairon asks, and I fear for the innocent person in front of us, with no clue what manner of monster stands before him.

"I rode with the king. Only maybe a year or so ago." The elderly seller gestures north and adds, "When Rhyma breached our borders and burned down Valeman."

Before I can argue that they must be mistaken, the king gently wraps a hand around my waist, rendering me silent. Whatever I expected him to feel like, scalding hot certainly wasn't it. His warmth radiates through my shirt, and I'm endlessly grateful that the many light layers protect me from feeling his bare palm on my skin.

I look up at him, a question on my face, but he gives me the most subtle shake of his head, telling me in no uncertain terms not to disagree with the seller. When I keep my mouth shut, he releases me, and I breathe out a sigh of relief, unable to think with the weight of his hand on me.

"Well, I thank you for your service," the king tells the seller. "You saved many lives that day. What is your name?"

"I am Agni."

"Well, Agni, I am very pleased to have met you today. Is this piece for sale? Or for display only?"

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