Page 134 of Heiress of Fire

“Leave her be!” Master Abigail hissed.

Davina ignored all their pleas for her to halt and pushed the King’s doors open, her hands leaving a black mark over the door, sizzling as she passed through the threshold. The King was standing in the middle of his chambers with his hands behind his back, like always. He held a certain serenity within himself, Davina could see it in his face.

“How can you be so calm while Raven is out there? While she’s been killing your children right under your nose!”

“Believe me when I say that I have not been calm, and I am not okay with what is happening. I have not been sitting here doing nothing like you think I have been,” the King replied.

Davina strode to him with flames surrounding her frame, her face reddened against the purple fire working inside of her.

“Davina, stop!” Cara yelled.

“Davina, what are you doing?” Beacon shouted.

Beacon and Caleb were about to pass the threshold. Davina waved a hand, a circle of purple fire surrounding herself and the King.

The Protectors stumbled away from the roaring flame.

The young Aurisan lifted her arm and jabbed for the King’s face, he dodged with absolutely no effort.

“You chose me for this. And for what? So I could lose the people that I love?”

Davina spun and aimed to kick him. He dodged. She kept aiming, kicking, punching, and he dodged all her hits. She yelled loudly, letting out all her frustration as she screamed. She raised her hands and sent her wildfire blazing at the King.

All the while, he was standing still. Her fire didn’t send him blazing. No, he stood still before her power as if he were welcoming the warmth.

Davina aimed for his jaw, his hand caught hers. Her inflamed eyes and body dimmed immediately, along with the ring of fire that surrounded them. Davina turned to face him, no other emotion on his face than serenity. He was still calm.

She pulled herself from his grasp. Her lips went into a frown as she pushed against his chest.

“Why?” she raised her voice. “Why do you let me go through this? Why?”

She pushed again.

He remained undisturbed, but now in his gaze, there was sadness. Davina furrowed her brows. She could never understand the King, or his expressions, metaphors, and actions.

“Why did you let them do this to me?” Tears brimmed her eyelids. “All I ever wanted was for them to be kids. I wanted them to have what was stolen from me. And now look what’s happened to them! They’re gone! They’re gone!”

“They’re not gone, Davina. There’s still hope.”

“What hope is there?” she asked as she pushed him, trying to provoke some kind of reaction from him. “I trusted you! I trusted you and you lied to me. I put my faith in you. You said that we would win.”

Davina continued to struggle against him. He raised no hand against her, he only stumbled and fought to keep his balance. She was sure that the others were watching the scene before them with horror, but she had to face him. She needed answers. There had to be a reason.

“Why? Why did you choose me? Look at me! Look at what I am. Look!” she screamed. She aimed to kick him, but he pushed her leg away.

“Because I wanted you to be a part of a great story. Great stories come from great tribulations.”

Davina grew tired from scuffling against his chest. Part of her felt like a child throwing a tantrum. At the end of the day, she was never allowed to be a child anyway. She panted.

“Your parents did much on you, I know that,” he began as he reached for her arm. His grip was soft but firm, welcoming yet powerful, and comforting but peaceful. He pulled her into his embrace. “But I knew you’d be the only one to withstand these afflictions.”

A sob left Davina’s lips as her arms grew limp. Her head rested against his chest while his hands brushed her back.

“Why did this happen to me?” she cried, her legs buckling from beneath her. But the King didn’t let her go, he kneeled with her as she wept in his arms.

Her tears represented all those lost years of her girlhood. Each drop represented the frustration of having felt powerless against the accusations that came from her parents, and her pain whenever she thought about her mother choosing a stranger over her own daughter.

The idea of having been born by mistake rushed back to her. Where was her father? Why did he choose not to contact her? Was something wrong with her? Did she do something? Why wasn’t she enough for him to come back?

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