Page 20 of King of Flames and Shadows

“Yes,” I whisper. “And she does not yet.”

Silence falls between us again. I would not ask my closest commander—my only friend—to condone my weakness, and he knows it. He will not lie to me. And my silence is a clear invitation that he may speak.

“If you think she’s worth the risk,” he says slowly, “then pursue it. If you believe she can give you what you need—an heir, a wife, whatever it is you’re seeking—then take it. But be cautious, Arvoren. You know how quickly these tides can turn. You know how treacherous trust can be.”

I nod, though the gesture feels heavy. “Indeed.”

Both of us know better than most the consequences of blind trust.

Darian bows his head slightly, stepping back. “If there’s anything more you require of me, you need only ask.”

“There is one thing,” I say quietly. “I want a closer watch on House Draven. Send spies to their borders, and warn them not to be so cautious. I want them to know they’re being watched. If they so much as breathe wrong, I want to be made aware. And … have your guards keep a closer eye on Calliope. I don’t want her wandering too far, and my library has been entered in the night; it’s clear she intends on walking the halls at night, lock or nay.”

He dips his head in acknowledgment. “As you command.”

I watch as he leaves, his form swallowed by the darkness beyond the doorway. Alone again, I turn back to the window, my reflection staring back at me from the glass.

Calliope. Her name haunts me. I have not visited with her or permitted her presence in my chambers in two nights. She has, by all accounts, spoken to not a single soul in that time.

Now, I believe, is the right time to try my hand once more at gaining her respect. And I have some idea of how I might go about breaking her now.

Chapter 8 - Calliope

The wind howls like a wounded beast, biting through the thin fabric of my cloak, numbing my fingers where they clutch the front of Arvoren’s coat. The chill is relentless up here in the mountains, a merciless force that steals my breath and makes my teeth chatter against my will. Every jarring step of the horse beneath us rattles my bones, and every muscle in my body aches with the effort to stay upright.

As one particularly violent shiver runs through my body, I hear Arvoren bark out a short, malicious laugh. I feel the vibration of it run through his chest and into mine, and I burn with rage and hate, and even that burning is not enough to warm my exhausted, frozen body.

I hate this. Ihatehim.

But the king’s body is so warm against me, a furnace of heat that I can’t help but lean into, shame burning through my veins. I would rather freeze than seek comfort from this … monster. Yet my traitorous chest draws closer to his back, trembling from the cold, even as my mind screams to push away—and my arms tighten around him even as my mind howls its fury.

“Still so stubborn, little one?” His voice rumbles through me, mocking and smooth.

The horse crests a ridge, and he reigns it in sharply, bringing us to a halt on a narrow path overlooking a sheer drop.

The cliffs rise like jagged teeth around us, their tops swallowed by fog. Beneath us, a long ravine in the ice and rock stretches down into the darkness, so deep I cannot see the bottom.

He shuffles in the saddle. “Or are you finally reconsidering your pride?”

My fingers tighten in his coat, my nails biting into the leather. I’m so cold I can no longer feel my face as I speak.

“Why did you bring me here?”Pathetic. I’m pathetic. My words are sharp, but they come out weak and breathless. The air is too thin, too cold. The wind stings my face, icy needles prickling my skin. “To show me how vast your prison is? To make me beg for warmth?”

He laughs softly, a low, menacing sound. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I wanted to show you the view. Isn’t it beautiful?”

If there is one thing the high mountains surrounding Millrath aren’t, it’s beautiful.

I didn’t ask to come here. I didn’t ask for any of this. I was woken in the early hours this morning, dragged from my bed by more of those silent, near-invisible maids who seem to appear from the very walls when I least expect them. I was dressed in this impossibly thin frock, barely thick enough for one to tolerate the moderate warmth of our country’s summers, then pushed by guards to the stables in the courtyard of the castle and my chains momentarily undone.

My wrists have been bound in their place, though. And I’m so cold I can barely move. I couldn’t run if I wanted to.

Besides, the king has brought me to an isolated mountainside. Where could I go?

Helplessness bowls me over. I’m so very cold and so very tired, and there is nothing, less than nothing, I can do to seek comfort. Beautiful? It’s a wasteland of rock and snow, where the ground falls away into a yawning chasm that could swallow usboth. The sky is a bruised shade of gray, the clouds roiling like smoke. There’s no beauty here, only desolation.

“Take me back,” I demand, hating the way my voice trembles.

Arvoren shifts in the saddle, turning his head slightly so I can see the dark curve of his smile over his shoulder. “What’s wrong, little bird? Are you frightened?”

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