Page 8 of King of Flames and Shadows

And that, more than anything, intrigues me.

I crouch before her, so close I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the fine tremor in her fingers.

Her breathing quickens as I lean in, lowering my voice to a whisper.

“You think you’re brave,” I say softly. “You think your defiance makes you strong. But you’re wrong, little witch. You have no idea what true strength is.”

She glares at me, her breath warm against my face.

“I am no witch,” she insists once more. Her pink lips are just as small as the rest of her.

I want to shut them up.

Ha. There it is. She knows precisely what I want and what I would do to get it. There it is again, that delicious fear.

I smile then, a slow, predatory smirk. “Oh, I will teach you what it is to live in this place. You’ll learn.”

Her gaze doesn’t waver, but I catch the slightest hitch in her breathing. I reach out, tilting her chin up with one gloved hand, forcing her to hold my gaze.

“You belong to me now,” I say softly, each word a promise and a curse. “You will bear my heirs. You will kneel at my feet. And you will break, witch, no matter how strong you think you are.”

She shudders, and I feel a thrill of satisfaction—until I see the glimmer in her eyes, the flicker of something across her face. Not fear, but something else.

Pity.

My smile falters. She sees it, and the ghost of a smile tugs at her lips.

“Is that what you want?” she whispers. “A woman to carry your children and warm your bed? How pathetic.”

Rage flares hot and blinding, and I redouble my grip on her chin, forcing her head back. But she just stares up at me, unblinking, unafraid.

“You will obey,” I snarl. “I can burn you to ash. And I shall, should you waste my time. I can make you wish you had never been born.”

My punishing hold on her tightens. Her lips part, and for the briefest moment, I see something flicker across her face, something like pain. But then she blinks, and it’s gone.

“I’ll die before I give you what you want,” she whispers.

Our eyes lock. For a single instant, a moment which seems to last a million, we are foes fighting to our death. She raises her sword against me and wills me to crumble and break.

If I don’t defeat her first, she will defeat me.

I release her roughly, rising to my feet. Whatever madness she has, it is some sorcery, witch or no. Am I becoming demented? Is this her affect?

I don’t let it show on my face. She stays where she is, kneeling on the cold stone, her gaze never leaving mine as I call for my men.

“Take her to the East Wing and have her cleaned thoroughly,” I order the guards as they re-enter, my voice clipped and hard. “And make sure she’s kept under guard at all times. No one is to speak to her without my permission. She will be treated as a prisoner and slave. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Majesty,” the captain says, his voice strained.

They lift her to her feet, dragging her away, but she keeps her eyes on me until the very last moment.

Chapter 4 - Calliope

The soldiers’ grip on me is iron-hard, biting into my arms as they haul me through the labyrinth of halls and passageways that make up the heart of Millrath’s sole castle. I scream endlessly, violently—I throw my fists and feet and howl like a demon.

I refuse to go quietly. I refuse to make this easy for them.

After I have bitten two of the men holding me and I can taste blood on my tongue, one guard brings the hilt of his blade down across the side of my head. Stars explode across my vision. I stagger halfway to the ground before I am hauled up again.

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