Page 61 of King of Flames and Shadows

Chapter 29 - Arvoren

The crowd in the square below churns like a dark sea, faces turned upward, hungry and hollow-eyed in the wan light of dawn. From my position on the balcony hanging above the underchamber, I can smell their fear—sharp and acrid, mixing with the wood smoke that perpetually hangs over Millrath's narrow streets.

I know it well; it is the scent of rebellion brewing.

Reflected the high windows around me, I glimpse a winged beast circling the castle's highest towers, waiting for the right moment to strike at the edifice of my power. Their numbers grow by the day, drawn to my city like moths to flame, sent by Gods who would see us burn. This one is massive, its wings casting rippling shadows across the square below. The gathered crowd shifts uneasily at the sight, their murmurs rising like wind through dead leaves.

"People of Millrath." My voice carries across the square, echoing off the slate and stone. I grip the iron railing, watching their faces twist with barely contained fury. "Our enemies gather at our borders. The Draconic Houses march against us, bearing steel and dragonfire. But we will not yield."

A woman near the front, her face gaunt with hunger, spits on the cobblestones. The gesture sends a ripple of movement through the crowd—heads turning, shoulders tensing, hands curling into fists. These are my people, and yet they look at me as though I were a stranger. As though I were the enemy.

"We have weathered worse storms," I continue. The words taste like ash. "The Fellveil holds. Our forces—"

"What of the beasts in the city?" Someone shouts from the crowd. "What of our children, torn from their beds?"

The cry ignites something in them. More voices join the chorus, their anger swelling like a wave about to break:

"The Gods have turned against us!"

"It's the Heretic Queen—"

"We're dying while you hide in your castle—"

I raise my hand for silence, but their voices only grow louder, more insistent. Behind me, posted at my shoulder, Darian shifts uneasily, his armor creaking. The guards along the square's edges tighten their grips on their spears.

"Enough."The word cuts through their clamor like a blade. I let my power seep into my voice, feel it resonate through the stone beneath our feet. "You will be protected. You will be—"

Something flies at me from the crowd. A stone arcs through the air, missing my head by inches. It strikes the wall behind me with a sharp crack that echoes like breaking bones. For a heartbeat, everything stops—the crowd frozen, the very air seeming to still.

Then chaos erupts.

The guards surge forward as the crowd breaks into a seething mass. Screams pierce the air. I hear a child crying out. Steel flashes in the pale morning light.

I watch it unfold with a cold detachment, even as something inside me trembles with fury and despair.

"Clear the square," I command, turning away from the balcony. "Use whatever force necessary."

Darian nods sharply, already barking orders to his men. I don't stay to watch. Let them see only my back as I retreat into the shadows of my castle. Let them remember that their king does not flinch from their hatred.

If they forsake me, I forsake them.

The halls of the castle seem darker than usual as I make my way to my administrative chamber, the torches guttering in some unfelt wind. I wish to see no one. The green-tinged light casts strange shadows on the walls—shadows that seem to move and twist when I'm not looking directly at them. Another sign of the Gods' displeasure, perhaps. Or simply my own mind playing tricks in the gloom.

I pause at a window, watching as another beast wheels past through the air, twisting around the West Tower, close enough that I can see the corruption eating away at its flesh, the madness gleaming in its eyes. These creatures were once noble things—eagles, wolves, bears, great cats of the mountains. Now they are twisted mockeries, driven mad by divine wrath. All because I dared to keep her. All because I couldn't—wouldn't—let her go.

The thought of Calliope sends a familiar ache through my chest. Even now, after everything, the mere thought of her name is enough to make something shift inside me, like ice cracking in spring floods.

My administrative chamber offers no comfort when I reach it. The room is cold despite the fire crackling in the hearth, air thick with the scent of old parchment and ink. Maps cover the massive oak desk, their edges curling like winter bracken, marked with the movements of enemy forces. They draw closer each day, a noose slowly tightening around Millrath's throat.

Soon, my brother and the traitors who follow him will converge upon us.

Of course, it doesn’t take her long to come find me. I don't hear her approach, but I feel her presence like a change in the air. When I turn, Calliope stands in the doorway, her faceshadowed in the flickering light. She's wearing a simple dress of deep blue, bearing her long, pale throat, her dark hair falling loose around her shoulders. The chains at her ankles glint dully beneath her skirts as she steps into the room.

"Your people are afraid," she says softly. It's not an accusation, but it stings like one nonetheless. “You couldn’t have comforted them.”

"My people are weak." The words come out harsher than I intend. "They don't understand what's coming."

She moves closer. I catch the faint scent of herbs that always seems to cling to her skin. "Do you?"

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