Page 22 of King of Flames and Shadows

Sky, ice, rock. Stark, bright colors wash the world white around me. Everything spins. I brace for impact as the ravine’s jaws lunge up around me and I tumble through the air.

So much for promises. So much for remaining unbroken. At least this fall will break me like Arvoren never could.

A sudden gust of wind catches me as I fall, tearing at my body and twisting me in the air. Just as the rocky teeth below leap closer, a shadow falls over me, immense and dark, blocking out the pale gray sky. Through the whirl of snow and wind, as time seems to slow around me, I see it—an enormous, terrifying shape descending from above, wings spread wide as mountains, a blaze of red cutting through the clouds like fire in the frost.

Arvoren, in dragon form.

His scales glisten like molten rubies, casting a faint, otherworldly glow across the rocks as he dives, powerful muscles rippling beneath the polished armor of his hide. Golden eyes, bright as dawn breaking over the mountains, are fixed on me as he plummets in a controlled, graceful dive, vast wings snapping and curving to adjust his path. His presence blots out the cliff face and chasm alike, each beat of his wings a thunderclap that resonates through my bones.

One massive, clawed foot reaches toward me, and before I can brace myself, I feel the strength of his grip wrap gentlybut securely around my body, lifting me from freefall. My breath catches, the world tilting sharply as he pulls me close to his scaled chest, where I can feel the rhythmic rumble of his heartbeat, steady and constant, grounding me. For the first time in what feels like ages, warmth engulfs me, spreading through my frozen limbs.

He rises, powerful wings straining against the air, and with a smooth arc, he lands us on the ledge, the impact reverberating through the ground. He sets me carefully on the rocks, lingering for a moment—a flicker of warmth in his gold-flecked gaze—before his form begins to shift, shrinking and reshaping in a swirl of dark smoke and shimmering red light.

Arvoren, the man, emerges where the dragon stood, breathing hard, his eyes still glinting with that same feral brightness. He reaches for me to hold me steady, hands on my arms, body pressed close to mine.

We’re both silent, chests heaving, our breath misting in the cold air between us. For a heartbeat, I forget the cold, the pain, and even the fear. There’s only the thunderous rush of blood in my ears and the faint, residual warmth of his arms steadying me, his gaze intense and unreadable.

For a moment, the only sound is the wind howling around us, as wild as my own heart.

“There,” he murmurs, his voice surprisingly gentle as it rumbles through him. “I’ve got you.”

I look up at him, startled, and for the first time, I see something like concern in his eyes. Not cruelty. Not triumph. Just … concern.

“Why did you—” I choke on the words, swallowing hard. “Why did you catch me?”

Arvoren’s gaze holds mine, and something flickers there, something I can’t quite decipher.

Then his expression hardens, and he steps back, releasing me so abruptly that I almost stumble again. We stand, facing one another, on the narrow ledge, suspended high over the entire white world. Snow has begun to fall around us, swirling through the thin air, and far underneath us, the faint lights of the city miles below begin to vanish in the blizzard, blinking out one by one as white snow fills the air.

“Because,” he says quietly, “you’re mine. And I don’t lose what’s mine so easily.”

I stare at him, my heart still racing. He saved me. He could have let me fall, could have let me die—but he didn’t.

I don’t understand. And I hate that I don’t understand.

But more than that, I hate the way my chest aches at the memory of his arms around me, strong and steady, keeping me safe. Because I know, deep down, that no matter how much I want to deny it … somewhere, in the dark, twisted recesses of my heart, I wanted him to save me.

Chapter 9 - Arvoren

I believe in the Gods as much as any other. After all, their influence is undeniable.

As well as that, I have always been the beloved of Iepehin, God of Beasts. He is patron of my castle, my city itself; I have always been favored by Him.

Tonight, he calls to me.

The castle is a labyrinth of silence and shadow. The torchlight, which normally burns steadily in the sconces lining the corridors, flickers uneasily, casting jagged shapes across the stone walls. My edifice holds its breath as I pass through its chambers and passageways.

Mere hours ago, I returned to the castle with Calliope. In her eyes was, again, that promise of hatred. She clung to me the entire ride home, hands still bound, the bundle of ropes hard where they dug into my stomach. I found I couldn’t say a word.

Whenever I close my eyes, I see her today, slipping away from me, her feet sliding in the black ice as her body fell out of my reach toward the chasm below. I cannot remove the image from my thoughts.

She could have easily died. The mere thought makes me want to rend this earth apart.

Outside, the wind moans through the towers, a plaintive, mournful sound. Above it all, there is the whisper of snow against the high windows, a soft shushing that grates on my nerves, the faint hissing of a thousand recoiling voices.

Restless energy coils beneath my skin, a feeling that is as foreign as it is unwelcome. I am never restless. I am never … uncertain.

But tonight, something is wrong. Perhaps Calliope’s humiliated rage has seeped into these ancient walls themselves. It was certainly ferocious. I can sense subtle shifts of the air, an electrical current, a heartbeat out of rhythm. The castle, a fortress of unyielding stone, feels almost alive on this night.

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