Page 78 of King of Flames and Shadows

My hands tremble, fists clenching so tightly I feel my nails dig into my palms. “This … this was all a lie,” I choke out, barely able to hold back the storm building inside me. “You were using me.”

Ulric’s smirk widens, his voice dripping with cold, triumphant satisfaction as he takes a step closer, sword still raised above Arvoren.

“Oh, you were more than useful,” he sneers, as if savoring the revelation. “You made this whole thing so much easier. A queen, parading around with her misguided notions of freedom, vying for my sympathy while I played her like a fiddle. Guarded entrances, sealed exits … How else do you think we made it this far? I could not have sneaked my mages into this wretched place without your help, Queen Calliope. And dear Varya’s, of course. She was more than willing to offer her support to my cause once she heard it would leave you dead.”

Arvoren’s face flashes with anguish. He lowers his head. I can tell without seeing his expression that he is agonized.

All the while, Ulric’s eyes flash, reveling in my horror, in the betrayal he’s unfurling with every word. He still wears the face of my ally, the ally I now know never was.

“I needed you distracted, helpless. You needed to be sympathetic to the rebels’ cause—sweet little Lyra helped with that, though of course, she wasn’t long for this world.” He laughs softly, a bitter sound, each word pressing the knife deeper. “I expected more from you, Calliope. I thought you'd be clever enough to suspect something, to see through me.” His gaze hardens, the disdain sharpening, a knife-edged finality in his tone. “You were so eager for freedom, so pathetically hungry for a scrap of hope, that you walked yourself right into my plans. You gave me exactly the opening I needed. So thank you, my dear. With your help, I’ll finally kill my dear brother and seize the throne.”

He raises the blade, his eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction.

"But don’t worry—you’ll be joining him soon enough.”

Words pour from me without my permission. I’m not certain where they’re coming from, just that I mean each and every one of them.

“Spare him,” I beg. “Please, Ulric. He’s your brother. Spare him, let him live—”

Ulric’s face morphs back into his own, that face so similar to his brother’s. He gestures to Arvoren, his tone mocking and laced with venom.

“You want to savehim? The monster who started this all? Calliope, you’re a fool. You always were.”

I swallow the ache rising in my throat. Lyra’s final words ring in my ears, her voice promising me the truth, warning me with her last breath. “It ends this way, then? You kill me, you kill him—just like you killed Lyra. Just like you’d kill anyone, human or not, who opposes you. Is this how you hope to rule? They called your brother a tyrant—Gods know what they’ll call you.”

Ulric shrugs, unfazed. “The wench was in my way. Just like you are now. If you had stayed out of it, she’d still be alive. You want to blame someone for her death? Look in the mirror.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. The rage that’s been simmering inside me rises, searing and unstoppable, burning away every fragment of fear and pain.

I feel something ancient and untamed rise within me, more powerful than anything I’ve ever known. Ulric’s lies twist through my mind, shattering into nothing, leaving only one thing in their wake: the truth.

All at once, I remember a thousand things. I feel time slowing around me.

The heat of Arvoren’s hand against mine, steady and strong, grounding me when the world felt like it was falling apart.

The press of his forehead to mine in the quiet dark, his breath warm against my skin, whispering promises I didn’t yet understand.

The way his gaze softened, fierce and unguarded, as he touched my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear with a tenderness I’d forgotten could exist.

His arms around me, a fortress against the chaos, his heartbeat echoing through me, a rhythm I wanted to carry forever.

The searing intensity in his eyes as we became one, his whispered words lingering against my lips like a vow.

The fury in his roar when I was hurt, the way he looked at me like I was worth every battle he’d ever fought.

The truth is like a knife’s edge, bright and clear: I love him. I still don’t know what that means. But I know it’s true as well as I know my own name, and I know I am a Windward, a warrior, a survivor.

Ulric raises the sword, his face a mask of sadistic triumph as he prepares to strike the killing blow on Arvoren.

“No!”

The word rips from my throat, and my whole body surges with raw, uncontainable energy.

As Ulric’s blade descends, something explodes from deep within me. I feel it before I see it, a tidal wave of power surging up from my bones, building in a blinding light that tears through my veins. Heat courses from my core, spreading to every cornerof my being, searing through the hall in a storm of brilliance, raw and furious.

The world goes white as my power surges outward, unstoppable, obliterating everything in its path.

Chapter 37 - Arvoren

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