Page 53 of Court of Secrets and Flames

Jasper smiles. “And how did you respond to that?”

“She told me it was too bad about the tea parties, since I could use a little sugar to sweeten my foul disposition.”

The king barks a laugh, and even Knox smirks. A little bit more of the ice protecting my heart melts. That initial exchange with my grumpy new flight instructor has seared itself into my memory because I’d never experienced instant attraction like that before. Grumpy or not, Knox left a big impression on me and remains the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I never expected him to recall that meeting in such detail. The fact that he did stirs my hope that our very first encounter shook him just as much.

Jasper claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It sounds like the pair of you provided entertainment for the other students.”

Knox snorts. “Oh, I’m sure we did.”

The two brothers seem at ease together for once. I suppose if agreeing on saddling me with a guard brings out the best in their relationship, I can grin and bear it.

I still don’t trust the king one bit. I shouldn’t trust Knox either. But while I cling to my anger and attempt—though often fail—to hold him at arm’s length, I worry his persistence will eventually crack my willpower like an egg. And since one more betrayal will pulverize my heart into an even runnier mess, I refuse to take that risk and let him back in.

Voices approach us from the hallway. A wiry, older man with curly gray locks appears beside a woman with military bearing and short magenta hair who’s maybe a decade plus a couple years older than me.

The gray-haired man strokes his chin. “Are we borrowing trouble? Maybe they were just posturing.”

The woman shakes her head. “They’ve already tightened up on the trade embargo. The last shipment just showed up, and Captain Nees was in quite a mood. He said we got half, if that, of our usual haul.”

As they sweep inside, their hushed tones carry to our spot in the corner courtesy of the room’s acoustics.

The woman scrubs a hand over the top of her head. “No lost ships yet, but we could be looking at that soon enough if the raids continue?—”

King Jasper forcefully clears his throat. “Fenton. Dalya. I was just finishing up with Lark and will be with you in a moment.”

Their heads jerk up like startled rabbits, and Gray’s eyes widen in alarmed recognition. “My apologies, Your Highnesses. I didn’t realize the room was occupied.”

He coughs and averts his attention to the table, his flushed cheeks spelling out his chagrin at getting caught publicly discussing a sensitive topic.

Magenta’s bold, unflinching gaze never strays from my face, and I get the sense that nothing much rattles her. She studies me with open curiosity and dips her chin in a polite show of respect. “King. Prince. Dragoncaller.”

The title unsettles me. In keeping with king and prince, the address I expected to follow was lady. Her casual use of dragoncaller throws me for a loop, a fact she probably notices based on the twitch of her lips.

“Nice to meet you.”

Several more people enter, including Agnar, Hyde, and a curvy, middle-aged woman with the shiniest brown hair I’ve ever seen dressed in an exquisite sapphire gown.

Jasper lifts my hand and air-kisses my knuckles, though Knox may have missed the lack of contact because he looks about two seconds away from a bad decision. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. In case I don’t see you again this evening, I’ll bid you goodnight. Knox, did you task someone with guard duty yet tonight?”

Knox gestures toward Blair, who hurries into the room. “Yes, there he is now,” he all but barks.

I elbow him in the ribs because, hells, that snapping turtle imitation of his is about as discreet as strutting naked into the middle of a coronation. Lucky for him, the king seems too distracted to notice. In lieu of a spoken reply, His Majesty graces us with a royal grunt, and suddenly, I’m the one who’s annoyed again.

Done with them both, along with the rest of the unwanted attention, I address Blair. “I’m out. If I don’t remove myself from this room now, I’ll be risking imprisonment for shoving my foot up a certain member of the royal family’s ass.”

Oh shit, how loud did I say that? I check the sea of faces and thank the gods above that apart from Blair performing a double take and Knox’s frown, no one else has reacted to my cranky threat.

Blair widens his eyes at Knox as if silently calling him out for stranding him all night with the grumpy-ass woman then shifts his focus to me. “In that case, I suggest we hustle.”

His wary expression would probably earn him a chuckle if the day’s events hadn’t sucked up all my energy. I grunt a reply, realize I’m beginning to sound a lot like both the king and a broody prince we all know, and sweep from the room before I really land myself in trouble.

The air shimmers with the mustiness of old parchment as I weave through the towering aisles of the Royal Archives. My fingers trail along the spines of leather-bound tomes, feeling the thrum of ancient knowledge locked within their pages. The prophecy beckons me from its elusive hiding place.

I navigate the labyrinth of shelving, the dreamscape warping reality with each step. Books blur and titles shift in a confusingdance, but I press on. There, misfiled betweenTales of the Enchantedand a title that seems to flicker out of existence, rests a book I’ve never seen.The Chronicles of the Mother Wurm.It’s not listed in any catalog or whispered in hushed reverence by scholars.

The book draws me like a moth to the fire. Itwantsme to pick it up.

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