Page 21 of King of Flames and Shadows

“I’m not.” I bite out the words, though the truth is far more complicated.

It’s not the cliffs or the height that scares me. It’s him. The way he toys with me, the way he seems to find pleasure in my discomfort. The way I am utterly and completely at his mercy. The way he could do anything to me, and I could not fight back.

“Liar.” He clicks his tongue and urges the horse forward again, the beast picking its way along the treacherous path as if it has no more care for life and death than its master.

The wind whips at my hair, tangling it around my face, and I shiver uncontrollably, wishing desperately for the furs he refused to let me take.

“Let me go, Arvoren,” I whisper through chattering teeth. “Or at least untie my hands.”

He doesn’t slow. If anything, he picks up the pace, forcing the horse to climb higher, until we’re nearly at the peak. My wrists strain against the bindings he’s wrapped around them, rope cutting into my skin as I struggle to keep my balance. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of asking for more. Not yet.

As a biting front of wind hits us, I cling tighter to him, searching desperately for his warmth. I find myself almost crying with the force of my shame, my fury.

“You wanted to explore, didn’t you?” he asks mockingly. “To be free? To know your boundaries? Consider this your introduction.”

I grit my teeth, refusing to look down at the dizzying drop beside us. “My boundaries,” I repeat. “You mean your boundaries.”

He shrugs, as if it’s all the same to him. “I thought perhaps the cold might teach you humility, but I see you’re as prideful as ever.”

He pulls the horse to a stop again, this time at the very edge of a cliff. The wind screams around us, and I can barely see the ground below through the swirling mist.

My heart pounds in my chest, a wild, frantic rhythm. “I’m cold, you bastard. I’m no dragon like you. If you’re going to kill me, just do it and be done.”

Arvoren twists in the saddle, and for a moment, I think I see something like amusement in his gaze. Then he reaches out, his fingers brushing against my cheek—a touch that is almost tender. Almost.

My breath hitches, and I jerk back, but there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to escape.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. “But if you don’t start showing me the proper respect, I might let you fall.” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Would you like that, Calliope? To be free of me?”

“Yes,” I snap.

The word is out before I can stop it, hot and fierce. For a moment, something flashes in his eyes, something dark and unreadable. Then his expression smooths into that infuriating mask of indifference once more.

“Then go.” He slips from between my bound arms, then gestures to the edge I’m suspended over, to the empty space beyond. A sheer drop. I’d be dead the moment I hit the icy ground. “Throw yourself off. If you’re so eager to be free, prove it.”

I stare at him, my throat tightening. He means it. I can see it in his eyes, in the way he watches me—expectant, curious, as if daring me to do it.

But I won’t. I won’t give him that satisfaction.

“You’re a coward, Arvoren,” I say softly, with as much venom as I can muster. “You can’t even kill me yourself.”

His lips curl into a smile, and I brace myself for his retort, but it never comes. Instead, he dismounts in a single fluid motion, his boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. Before I can process what’s happening, he reaches up and yanks me down from the saddle, my bare feet slipping on the icy rocks.

I gasp, my knees buckling, but he holds me upright, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Walk,” he commands, his voice cold. “We’re not done.”

“Where are you taking me?” I hiss, trying to wrench free. But his hold tightens, fingers digging into my arm as he forces me to follow him along a narrow ledge that hugs the cliffside. The wind is stronger here, tearing at my clothes, pushing me back, and I stumble, struggling to keep my balance.

“Farther,” he replies. “Until you understand.”

“Understand what?” I spit, shivering uncontrollably. My boots slip on a patch of ice, and I nearly go down. Arvoren catches me easily, hauling me up as if I weigh nothing. The casual display of strength makes my stomach twist with a sick, shameful thrill—a reminder of how helpless I am in his grasp.

“That you belong to me,” he says softly. “That no matter how far you run, how high you climb, you will never escape me.”

I open my mouth to retort, but the words die on my tongue as my foot slips again—this time on a hidden patch of ice. I cry out, my body pitching forward, and suddenly—

I’m falling. Wind roars in my ears as I topple through open air from the edge.

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