Page 44 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash
Madman.
The beast inhaled deeply, its breath stirring the loose strands of Kai’s dark hair. In her mind’s eye, Alina saw the creature snapping its jaws shut, tearing flesh from bone, painting the cavern floor in royal wyverian blood.
But the dragon did not attack.
It sniffed once, huffed, and then, to her utter shock—bowed its head.
Alina gaped.
‘How did you…?’The dragon stepped backward, careful not to turn its back on Kai—a gesture of respect. Alina had never seen a drakonian dragon show submission to anyone outside the royal family. ‘How did you do that?’
Kai turned, his smirk entirely too self-satisfied. ‘I’m a people person.’
‘Thatis a dragon.’
‘I’m just good with everything, princess.’ His grin was wicked, full of heat and something unspoken.
He stretched his hand out to her, just as he had done to the dragon.
Waiting.
Daring.
‘So,’ he said, ‘will you ride with me tonight?’
Alina’s lips curled into a smile.
I have heard some rumours that princess Aithne is with child. If so, I am certain her parents will want to rush her marriage to Hadrian to cover it up. Everyone knows who the real father is—prince Sorin cannot hide his love for the princess, finding excuses to visit her kingdom every few months. As soon as his family discovers that the princess is carrying a child, they will quickly send him off somewhere far away to be married too, so no one can point a finger at him. I cannot stand the thought of Hadrian having to marry her and pretend that her baby is also his. Princess Aithne told me once long ago that her child would start a war. I did not truly understand in that moment.
I do now.
Tabitha Wysteria
The feast stretched on endlessly, as if the night itself refused to yield. Midnight had to be near, yet the music still surged through the hall, and the guests continued to drown themselves in wine, their laughter growing louder, looser.
Mal had spent the last half hour entertaining conversation after conversation, the drakonians finally shedding their hesitation and daring to approach her. Curiosity burnt in their eyes, though they masked it well. They wanted to know about the Kingdom of Darkness—what it was like to live beneath its shadowed skies, what strange foods they ate (their rotten blackapple pie was unparalleled, of course), what dances they performed, and, inevitably, what she thought of witches. No one asked about her eyes. But she saw the question lingering on their tongues, teetering at the edge of their restraint.
Haven, as always, moved through the crowd with effortless grace, her voice poised, her expression unreadable. Mal envied her sister’s ability to maintain such composed conversations, to endure endless pleasantries without betraying a hint of boredom. Haven had been trained since childhood to be a queen, to listen to all who spoke to her and leave them feeling heard, yet none the wiser about her true thoughts.
Mal, however, had never possessed such patience.
Her attention wavered as movement caught her eye—Ash Acheron, his golden hair a beacon even in the dim light, slipping through the doors of the Grand Hall. Where was he going? Her blood simmered at the memory of his infuriating smirk, the way he had looked at her as if she were an insolent child in need of discipline. She clenched her fists. That smug expression of his—she would wipe it clean off his face.
Without knowing why, she followed.
No one would notice her absence, not for a few minutes at least. Her legs ached from standing in the same spot, and if she had to endure one more drakonian gushing about their grand castle, their prized tarts, or the unmatched superiority of their fashion, she might very well lose her mind.
Mal glanced down at her own gown, an unspoken challenge curling at the edge of her thoughts. Experts in fashion, were they? All she had seen were gowns with puffed sleeves, suffocating bodices, and skirts so long and heavy they seemed more suited for battle armour than elegance. Then again, drakonian women weren’tpermittedto fight, so what need had they for freedom ofmovement?
She pressed forward, trailing the prince as he wove through a narrow passageway. The air grew warmer, the walls pressing closer as the corridor descended in a winding spiral. Mal was beginning to wonder if this trek would ever end when—
She nearly gasped.
Before her stretched a vast, hidden oasis.
A pool, steaming in the heat, lay cradled by jagged rocks and lush vegetation. The air was thick with warmth, almost stifling, painting Mal’s cheeks a feverish pink. The water shimmered in the dim glow, a stunning shade of turquoise unlike anything she had ever seen. It was unnatural, otherworldly. Whatwasthis place?
Then, to her utter bewilderment, the prince began to undress. Mal jerked back, retreating into the shadows, her body moving instinctively as she crouched between the rocks. Hidden from view, she carefully maneuvered higher, peering down through the gaps.
