Page 21 of A Storm of Fire and Ice

The aroma of garlic and tomatoes filled the air, while the savory steam from the roasted vegetables and grilled chicken wafted between us. Despite the lack of company, Frankie hadn’t skimped on the quality or quantity of our meal.

“At least we’re not starving, right? We still have Frankie,” I said. Fannar gave me an approving smirk, a dollop of mashed potatoes precariously teetering on his spoon. He glanced across the table at Brontes and Gwyneira.

“So how do you like the food?”

“It’s delicious!” Gwyneira’s eyes lit up with excitement as she looked over her plate. “Just being here is wonderful! I never thought I’d get to eat at the academy dining hall.”

She proudly dug into her multicolored roasted vegetables with gusto. The steam rising up from her grilled chicken added a savory aroma of juicy meat and rosemary to the air.

“The food is amazing here.” Brontes gave a nod of approval before stuffing his mouth full of pasta.

“Glad you like it so far.” I took a sip of my soda.

“Unfortunately, you’re not getting the full academy experience without the rest of our classmates, but we’ve got to make the most of it, right?” Fannar smiled softly.

My gaze fell on the array of condiments lining the center of the table, their vibrant colors inviting mischief.

A wicked grin spread across my face as an idea took root. “Why don’t we liven things up a bit? Who’s up for a fun challenge?”

Brontes’s eyes grew wide as he leaned in with curiosity. “What kind of challenge?”

“A hot sauce challenge! I’m going to mix every sauce here.” I gathered up the various bottles and began to pour a little bit of each one into a small glass, creating an alarming molten-red concoction that bubbled and fizzed. “And I dare you to take a sip!”

“Are you insane?” Fannar scoffed, raising an eyebrow at the spiciest hot sauce in particular.

“What’s the matter, Ice Prince?” I taunted. “Afraid of a little heat?”

“Yeah, my powers won’t be enough to cool me down after that.”

“Aw, come on! Live a little,” I teased, nudging him playfully with my elbow.

Gwyneira giggled at our banter until Brontes chimed in.

“I accept your challenge!” Brontes exclaimed.

Gwyneira’s eyes widened. “Brontes, maybe we should think this through . . .” She touched his arm gently, trying to be the voice of reason. “I don’t want you to get sick when we just got here.”

“The Storm King fears no sauce!” he declared with bravado.

“This might not be the best idea,” she warned.

But it was too late. He was already lifting the glass to his lips. He gulped down the mixture in one swig.

Instantly, his face transformed into a cherry-red canvas of comical agony as tears pooled in his eyes and beads of sweat dotted his temples. His fiery panting could have given any dragon a run for its money.

My hands flew over my mouth in shock—or attempting to stifle laughter—I’m not sure which.

“Wow,” Fannar remarked as he watched Brontes struggle to catch his breath. He patted Brontes on the back.

“Are you okay?” Gwyneira handed him a glass of water, genuine concern etched on her face.

“Never . . . better . . .” Brontes wheezed, grinning through the obvious pain before gulping down the entire glass.

Fannar winced at the spectacle. “Was it worth it to impress Gwyneira?” he asked wryly.

Brontes feigned nonchalance, shooting her a blinding grin through watering eyes. “Always.”

“Silly Brontes.” Gwyneira blushed deeply but took his hand.

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