Page 36 of Court of Secrets and Flames

My breath comes in short bursts.

Half from the smoke swirling in the air, half from the exhilarating sense of control.

I marvel at the effortlessness with which I bend the flames to my will, tracing paths dictated by mere flicks of my fingers.

Regrets shrivel to ash, joining the roaring inferno surrounding me.

How dare anyone try to incarcerate me. I’m a dragoncaller. The first of generations.

No one will trap me ever again. I’d rather be dead then live without freedom.

And if I die, they’ll all die with me. I’ll incinerate every last one of them.

The roasting wood around me groans and blackens in a testament to my defiance. If smoke claims my lungs, so be it. At least this damned prison will collapse with me. While I may be a bird in a gilded cage, this bird has grown talons and wings.

As the flames answer my call, the anger that helped me start the blaze fades away. This feels…good. Natural. Like stretching a hand kept in a glove for too long. A contented sigh escapes me.

I flex my fingers and relax. Like a trained pet, the fire dances along with my every movement. This is a song and dance I know in my bones.

A release.

In the background, someone shouts my name. Sterling again.

Funny. He sounds scared.

A loud banging follows.

I start coughing and jolt awake to oppressive heat.

Black smoke billows around me, almost cloaking the bright orange flames and distorting my vision. Tears stream from the corners of my eyes.

I gasp, only to start choking as heat sears my lungs.

Panic claws at my chest.

Air. I need fresh, cool air.

Coughing and sputtering, I suck in a short breath that scorches my throat and fails reach my lungs.

“Lark! Hang on!”

Around me, the room shimmers and bends. Much like what’s happening in my head, the haze thickens. Sweat beads and rolls down my face. My back. Between my breasts.

Black dots speckle the edges of my vision, blurring together. I start to sway. Then cold, stark realization dawns. Despite the overwhelming heat, I shudder.

I’m going to die.

Outside these walls, commotion rings out, but it sounds so far away.

Shouts.

The clash of steel.

Battering into the door.

The door shatters inward under a deluge of ice. The sudden frost devours the searing heat engulfing my chamber. A torrent of swirling water announces Prince Knox’s entrance, his magic smothering the flames with hisses and clouds of steam.

I sink to the floor.

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