Page 4 of Court of Secrets and Flames

“The king has ordered she be brought to him immediately, Prince Knox.” The formidable man, presumably their leader, scowls at the prince. From the permanent furrows carved between his vibrant blue eyes, glaring appears to be his go-to expression.

Unperturbed, Knox dips his chin in acknowledgment. “Of course, Hyde.”

Two men search me for weapons before grabbing my upper arms and marching me up the path to the palace without another word. Trying not to stumble, I manage to move my feet quickly enough to keep up with the sudden rush.

Flying to this strange new place in Knox’s arms proved humiliating enough, but least I know him. I’m even less thrilled about these strangers—with their faces hidden under their helmets—dragging me along like a rag doll.

Instead of stepping in on my behalf or even explaining anything, the prince saunters ahead of us in silence. Still wearing his Flighthaven Academy garb, he stands out almost as much as I do.

With a heart torn by betrayal and a mind teeming with unanswered questions, I follow Prince Knox of Tirene into the enemy’s lair.

The grips on my arms are unyielding as the guards usher me through the throng of onlookers. “Who are all these people?” Maybe even just one answer would help quell the acid rising up in my stomach.

“Subjects of the realm.” Knox’s posture remains relaxed as he practically glides forward, surrounded by his own retinue of guards. Is he putting on a performance for the people around us, or he truly this at ease? “They’re not used to outsiders.”

Outsiders.

The word rings in my ears. As of right now, I’m an outsider no matter which kingdom I’m in.

“I can walk on my own, if you’ll let my feet touch the ground.” I try to rip my arm free as we ascend the polished black steps, but the press of bodies makes it hard to move. “Is this really?—”

I freeze at the top of the stairs.

Beside me, the soldiers halt while still maintaining their grips on my arms. My gaze rivets to the shapes of what I thought were two guards on either side of the palace doors.

Acid scalds my throat. Maybe once upon a time they were guards. Hells, I can’t even tell if they’re Tirenese. That’s not important.

What matters is two men are dead, their bare chests skewered on the spikes protruding from the palace wall like pigs on a spit.

Sucking down a deep breath, I swallow the bile threatening to spew from my mouth. “Why?”

At my whispered question, Knox glances my way, his impassive expression giving nothing away. As if nude men impaled on spikes, their heads forever bent toward the dried blood pooled below their feet, are an everyday occurrence. “I haven’t been home in quite a while. But if I had to guess, they displeased the king.”

Displeased the king? How can he say that in such an offhand way, as if he’s commenting on the weather?

More important question…what kind of ruler murders people and leaves them on full display for all of court to see? And what could they possibly have done todispleasehim? Commit treason? Or simply disagree with him? Look at him the wrong way? Sneeze?

No one else offers an explanation, and the guards’ hands tighten on me as they drag me across the marble floor. Once we reach a set of ornately carved, oversized wooden doors, they swing open, and they tug me across the threshold.

My heart races, and unfamiliar faces blur together. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t?—

Pull yourself together.

Though I didn’t expect a welcoming party, I’m not at all prepared to confront a ruthless king who has people killed for displeasing him.

But I need to get ready. I need to put my best foot forward and bury my fear so deep that no one will know I’m terrified.

If there’s one lesson I learned at Flighthaven, it’s that showing weakness is a mistake. Far too many people in this world get off on crushing those with less strength or power, if only to feel better about themselves.

Then again, some of them do it just because they’re sadistic dickheads.

I try my best not to gape as we stride through the great hall, where colorful frescoes of sky battles and dragon hunts adorn the vaulted ceilings, but it’s a challenge. The inside of the palace is basically a big labyrinth practically bursting with grandeur and opulence.

Two immense salons open on either side of the great hall, each capable of hosting feasts for hundreds. Music echoes from the minstrel’s gallery where lutes and flutes weave sweet harmonies, a stark contrast to the grisly scene just outside the palace walls.

But it’s the king’s private chamber that steals my breath. The space soars above us, the two-story high ceiling supported by carved ivory pillars. Tapestries depicting the lineage of Tirene nobility drape the walls, and sunlight pours through stained glass, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the marble floor.

My two escorts jerk to a halt, releasing me and causing me to stumble before I catch myself.

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