Page 97 of Court of Secrets and Flames

“Would you like your book?” Mother offers, her eyes kind pools of worry.

I nod, grateful for the distraction.

She reaches for the large, dusty tome on the bedside table. Blair must have retrieved it from the cell. As Mother hands it to me, the familiar weight in my hands brings an odd sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of poison and treachery.

The others settle around me. Leesa perches at the foot of the bed. Bastian leans against the wall, wings folded neatly behind him. Blair remains on the sitting room couch while the other two guards whisper near the door. Mother sits close, ready to assist at the slightest sign of distress.

They all talk softly among themselves.

I openThe Chronicles of the Mother Wurmto where a silk ribbon marks my place. The tale unfolds before me, a narrative rich with the struggles of a land besieged by the creatures of shadows.

Mother Wurm’s courage seeps into me, bolstering my resolve. If she can face down mythical beasts, then I can confront the shadows lurking in my birth kingdom. With each page turned, the line between fiction and truth blurs, until I’m no longer just a reader, but part-bearer of her mantle, fighting for peace in a land rife with betrayal and loss.

It’s just a story, a tapestry of trials and tribulations that captures my mind and keeps me from dwelling on the darkness. For now, that’s all I need—to be lost in a world where the hero prevails and peace is worth the battle.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I’m alone in my room, sipping warm broth in bed, when shouting outside causes me to spill. Cursing, I set aside the bowl of thinned porridge and straighten up against the headboard, nerves firing as my attention glues to the door.

A moment later, it bursts open and Sterling sweeps in.

He stalks over to the bedside. One glance at his face and the greeting freezes on my tongue. I’ve seen him angry more than once, but his dark expression goes beyond livid. He appears a second away from murdering someone.

Alarm races over my skin. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

His fiery gaze scans me from head to toe. Once he finishes the inspection, his expression shuts down into that awful blank visage, the spark in his eyes extinguished.

Not that it’s easy to tell, since he can’t even force himself to look me in the eye.

I twist my hands in the blanket as pressure builds in my chest. The last time we were together, we spent a wonderful afternoon in each other’s arms, and then I ran away from him. Without explanation.

I can’t really blame him for getting upset. Even so, I don’t like leaving things like this. “Please don’t be mad.”

His head jerks up. “Don’t be mad?” The lethal softness of the question roots me in place. An instinct urges me to move to safety, but my muscles refuse to comply. “You’re telling me not to be mad?”

I lick my dry lips. “Yes. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His entire body flinches as if I pulled back my fist and sucker punched him in the gut. A harsh, jagged breath scrapes free of his mouth, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

When he opens them again, he shocks me by falling to his knees and dropping his forehead onto my thigh.

Several heartbeats pass with me staring at the top of his head before I stroke a hesitant hand through his hair. “Are you…are you okay?” He shudders, and my stomach clenches. “You’re really starting to freak me out.”

He raises his head, and I swallow a gasp. The fire has returned to his eyes. “The king…my brother…threw you in a dungeon, and you’re asking me if I’m mad? You almost died, and you’re asking me if I’m okay? The answer to both of those is no. I’m not fucking okay, and I’m really fucking pissed. But not at you.”

“I’m starting to figure that out,” I murmur.

I pull my hand from his head, and he grabs it and clutches it with his own. “You could have died. You could have died in a squalid cell while Jasper sent me off on some bullshit mission. I would have returned and never gotten to see you again. And it would have been my fault, because I’m the one who brought you here in the first place.”

The anguish in his voice, in his eyes, guts me. “That didn’t happen. It’s okay.”

His fingers tighten on mine. “It’s many things, but okay isn’t one of them.”

“Okay,” I repeat with a wince.

He releases my hand and lurches to his feet. “I’ll fetch your maid. She can help you rise and dress.”

Before I can protest, he leaves the room. The door doesn’t even close before a maid enters. With her help, I dress in riding trousers and a tunic, my mind still awash with Sterling’s reaction.

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