Page 34 of A Kiss of Embers
The same man from before, the one Seraphina had referred to as Joram, stepped forward with a hand resting against a sword hanging unsheathed from his hip. Black metal gleamed beneath the light of a bonfire billowing a short distance away. The gray threaded into the man’s black hair gave away his age. He was probably about as old as his father, in his early forties.
The other man stared him down, his gaze trailing over his hair, his clothing, and lingering on his ears. “What are you?”
Whatnotwho.
Seraphina gazed at him intently, attention flashing to his ears and then to his lips. In any other situation, he might have thought she was flirting. But this was no regular situation. She was sending a message, and he attempted to pick apart her meaning.
Although rusty, he switched from the Forest Fae tongue to his native Sun Fae language, trying his best to sound like he’d spoken it all his life. “My queen would have you release us.”
Joram peered at him closer and answered in choppy Sun Fae speech. “Your queen?”
Seraphina huffed, and he didn’t miss the clench of her jaw, which indicated he’d just said something stupid. But he was a talented liar, and she was about to find out just how well he could weave a tale.
“Queen Nova hired me as a guard in Heulwen, the Sun Fae city. Anoutsiderto the clans given light of the current situation.”
The man tilted his blade, and the bonfire caught as a glint on the smooth metal. “Why would she have need ofyourassistance? She has nearly every Ember Fae at her beck and call at the snap of her fingers.”
“And yet, here we are, hanging upside down because her fingers are tied down.”
Thankfully, Seraphina cut in next in her regular tongue. “Release us, Joram,” she demanded. “Or I will punish you and your people for laying your hands on me.”
Joram held up his hands as if in a show of peace. “No need to exercise your magic. I know you can drown my people in fire even with your hands tied behind your back.”
“Mypeople,” she corrected. “You forget who rules overyou.” She scowled at him. “My patience is running thin, and I think you have humiliated me enough.”
Discomforted feet shuffled around them as many Ember Fae glanced at each other uneasily. It almost seemed as if they were confused about whose orders they should follow when their clan leader and queen were issuing commands from opposite fronts.
Joram held up a hand to quiet them, and the crowd stilled once more. “What can you do?” He laughed as she glared at him. “I’ve been hunting you for days, Your Highness. And I finally found you nearly by your lonesome.” He gestured to Bastien. “Some guard he turned out to be.” But then he tipped his knife toward Seraphina this time and dragged the flat end across the side of her neck. “The dart you were struck with temporarily inhibits your magic. You are powerless here.”
“What do you want?” she spat.
Bastien tried to struggle against the poison once again flowing through his veins, but his body remained limp. Quite frankly, he was getting tired of losing the ability to move. And not for the first time in his life, he wished he possessed the affinity for magic. His father’s magical ability had skipped over him entirely, and his sister had inherited magic instead.
“What my son tried to accomplish twelve years ago.” The man lowered his voice, and only the people within the immediate vicinity likely heard his words. “It’s a shame he failed and died byaccident.”
Panic lurched through his stomach as his gaze shot toward Seraphina. Her fierce glare gave nothing away, but she likely knew as well as he did that something awful was in store for them.
“I deeply express my condolences for your son’s death,” Seraphina said in an even yet cordial tone. “I was only a child at the time, but I remember he was well-loved by the people.”
Joram’s expression contorted with anger as he grabbed a fistful of Seraphina’s hair and pulled hard enough for her eyes to water. “It’s funny how quickly alliances can change when a few threats are involved.”
An elderly woman shuffled out of the crowd and stood with hands clasped in front of her, eyes fixed on the ground. The wrinkled and dull aged wings on her back indicated she was not originally from this clan. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”
Seraphina gasped. “Alma, why?”
“My family comes first.”
Now with the ability to move his head slightly, he glanced from Seraphina’s horrified expression to the woman’s hunched shoulders. If he could guess, he’d say the woman was the healer Seraphina had spoken of earlier in her tale about Pri. But the question was…how many people knew the truth?
Judging by the uncertainty and confusion in the expressions around them, very few people knew about what had happened. Surely, there would have been more outrage, no? But who would the anger be directed at? Joram or Seraphina?
Defeat melted the anger in Seraphina’s eyes. “What would you have me do?”
The clan leader nodded toward a tall, bare-chested man with paint smeared across his face and torso. He wore a crossbow strapped over his shoulder, knives with black blades hanging in an orderly line from the strap. His black hair was cropped short, black lips curled into a snarl.
“There will be no more concubines but only one king. You will marry my son Zephyr.” He lowered his voice once again. “And I will have no one question the legitimacy of the heir. Pri will have to be killed.”
“No!” she screamed, and her outburst must have cut through some of the poison’s influence when her body swayed against her struggling. Bastien glared when he could do nothing other than cast the man hateful looks. “You can rot in your grave like the spiteful man you are, you blazing, child-killing swine!”
