Page 25 of King of Flames and Shadows

“And you allowed these … forgeries into Millrath unchecked?”

Arvoren’s voice is a low murmur, almost gentle.

I shiver at the sound. It’s a tone I recognize. Dangerous, coiled like a snake ready to strike.

The merchant stammers, his face pale as milk. “N-No, Your Majesty—”

“Enough.”

The single word is enough to silence the entire chamber.

It sends me right back to last night.Enough.The sound of his voice in my nightmare, laughing as I froze to death in frigid waters, punctuated by the sound of him in myroom.I’ve never been so embarrassed as I was then, so furious, so terrified. Seeing him standing beside my bed, the dark, the huge shape of him watching silently as I tried to even my breathing … I’ll never forget how it felt.

A ripple of unease passes through the gathered crowd. Arvoren pays them no mind. “You’ll see to it that the situation is rectified, or I’ll find someone else who will.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Of course, Your Majesty.”

The merchant bows so low that his forehead nearly touches the floor. When he finally scurries away, I catch a glimpse of his sweat-drenched back beneath his cloak, a dark stain spreading between his shoulder blades.

“Next,” Arvoren says, his voice flat. Right back to his practiced nonchalance, his kingly boredom.

A guard steps forward, a man with a squared jaw and a scar running from his temple to his cheek. He salutes sharply, glancing at me only once before turning his attention back to the king.

“Your Majesty, there have been … sightings. Outsiders in the city, asking questions in the slums. We’ve detained several, but they’re not giving in to interrogation. They’re—”

“Outsiders?” I can’t stop the word from slipping out.

It echoes loudly in the silent chamber. Every head turns toward me, shock and curiosity mingling in the air like the scent of blood.

Arvoren’s gaze snaps to me, sharp as a blade. I freeze beneath the weight of his stare, feeling my cheeks flush hot.

I lower my head quickly, my pulse racing.What have I done?

A fragile moment of silence passes, its quiet almost violent.

“Continue,” Arvoren orders the guard, his voice as cold and impersonal as Winter. He doesn’t acknowledge my outburst.

The guard clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable.

“Yes, Your Majesty. As I was saying … they’re too well-organized for simple mercenaries or rebels. We believe they’re gathering information. Mapping the city, the entrances and exits. If they’re here for you …”

He lets the implication hang in the air. A chill runs down my spine. Why would anyone come here for him? Arvoren rules over his city—his kingdom—with an iron fist. Who would be foolish enough to challenge that?

Linus Caddel’s face flashes through my mind unbidden. I’m not sure why.

“See to it that the rest are caught,” Arvoren says, dismissing the guard with a wave of his hand. “And increase patrols around the castle. I want anyone who doesn’t belong here dragged before me. Alive.”

The guard bows and exits swiftly, leaving the court embroiled in a tense silence. My mind races, trying to piece together what little I’ve heard. Outsiders. Revolutionaries, perhaps? The thought sends a thrill of fear through me. And hope.

Hope for escape.

But how? When I am chained as I am, tethered eternally to this place?

The rest of the court session drags on, a blur of voices and faces I don’t care to remember. By the time the final petitioner leaves, my head aches from the strain of holding myself still, silent, straight-backed.

When Arvoren rises, I force myself to follow. My body is no longer my own. I must follow him like a pet, like a slave.

My shame is a bottomless well. Just when I think I can’t sink further, I do.

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