Page 37 of Court of Secrets and Flames

“Lark, open your eyes!” That deep, desperate voice…familiar yet distorted. Like I’m listening underwater. He scoops me in his arms and flees into the hallway. “Look at me!”

My eyes flutter open. “Sterling?” Coughs wrack my body, and my throat burns. “I’m…sorry.”

“Don’t try to talk, love.” He presses a lingering kiss to my temple, his lips cool and soothing against my feverish skin. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Disoriented and shaking, I give in to temporary weakness and lean my head against his chest.

Despite my fragile state, I don’t believe him.

I’m not safe here.

Maybe I’m not safe anywhere.

Chapter Ten

The Lady of the Bedchamber stands amidst the charred remains of my suite the next morning, her presence slicing through the smoky air like a cold blade. Her impassive face is a testament to years spent navigating court intrigue and, I’m sure, no small number of temper tantrums and violent outbursts.

Her gaze flickers over the damage covering the entire wall, door, and floor. The chandeliers are wilted, the metal having softened during the worst of the blaze. Never once does she show any signs of judgment, good or ill.

“Your handiwork is quite…impressive.” Beneath Rhiann’s formal tone, I detect an undercurrent of dry humor, so I offer a tiny bow of my head as if accepting a compliment. “I appreciate that you didn’t burn your new gowns.”

Unintentional, since the fire started in the living space before traveling to the bedchamber, but now I understand the hidden blessing of not destroying any of Rhiann’s work.

Behind her, a troupe of wide-eyed workers hesitantly steps in, their gazes flitting between Rhiann’s composed figure and the scorched aftermath of my dream-fueled wrath. Their hands tremble as they begin to repair what my temper destroyed, though their glances toward me speak louder than their silence.

Fear colors their every move.

Once, I would have hated that. In fact, I took magic-suppressing tablets for years to ensure my power never inspired that reaction. Now, in enemy territory, it’s something I can work with.

“Another suite has been prepared for you,” she assures, her voice as smooth as the silk gowns she oversees. “Follow me, please.” There’s no hint of anger or rebuke for my destruction of the original rooms.

“Thank you.” The formality of her request hangs in the air, pressing against my shoulders like a weight.

As we exit, we pass a cluster of maids, their arms laden with garments and trinkets from the king—false tokens of care. Rhiann addresses the other women with the efficiency of a general commanding her troops.

“Ensure that Lady Lark’s belongings are transported to her new accommodations posthaste.” Her orders ring with authority, and her dark brown eyes do not miss a beat. She surveys the procession of workers and maids scurrying to obey.

We advance through the stone corridors, abandoning the smell of smoke, the taste of bitter memories, and the terror of my brush with death. The high, arched corridor echoes with the soft patter of footsteps as I follow Rhiann to my new quarters.

The three maids trail us carrying an assortment of velvets and silks, their arms overflowing with the king’s lavish gifts. I eye the finery with unease. All these luxuries only serve to remind me of last night.

I may have been dreaming, but that part rings true.

No amount of finery King Jasper supplies can change my status as a prisoner here.

A well-treated one, perhaps, but a prisoner nevertheless.

Each carefully wrapped package, every painstakingly chosen garment, is nothing but a bejeweled shackle meant to tie me just a little tighter to this place.

Rhiann gestures toward the open doors of my new suite. “Your accommodations.”

Stepping into the unfamiliar space, I sweep my gaze over the lavish setting which could be considered an upgraded copy of the one I just left.

This bed is just as large as my last one. The wardrobe has three doors instead of two. There’s a fireplace in the living area and another one in the bedchamber. The chandeliers are nearly identical, but this one’s crafted from shiny nickel instead of brass.

Which means it won’t burn quite as easily as the last.

Part of me aches to test that.

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