Page 59 of Kingdom of Flames & Flowers
My mind screeched to a halt, realizing what he said.
“You’re choosing—”
“The bravest, most beautiful girl we’ve ever seen,” Zariah interrupted. Zion made a noise of assent in his throat, moving lower down my neck to suck at my collarbone.
“Your mother—” I protested weakly.
“Will not be queen forever. Think of how much you could help those in the mud quarter as queen.”
My eyes widened as Zion’s grip around my waist tightened. I could make a change. As queen, I could learn to read, and have access to everything in the archives. I’d solve the mystery in due time, and maybe be able to break the curse they were under, and save the kingdom! Yes!
“Look how her eyes burn with ambition, brother,” Zariah growled at me. Zion didn’t answer, his teeth busy tearing a rip in the collar of my shirt. I made a move to stop him, but Zariah kept a firm hold of my hands.
“We can help each other. Yes?” Zariah pushed.
I nodded, unable to do anything else with him pressing wonderfully against my backside and Zion working me over like a machine.
A strange whistle shrieked overhead, causing both of them to freeze.
“What? What is that?” I asked, panic flaring in my veins.
Zion huffed, pulling away.
“We will have to finish this another time, darling,” Zariah told me, grasping my chin in his hand and pushing up so it forced me to look straight up at him. He kissed me hard, then let me go. I stumbled backwards into Zion.
“Mother is calling,” Zariah grit out.
ChapterEighteen
Apparently there was going to be a large ball to conclude the games, and announce me as the ‘winner.’
Yet, we didn’t go to the grand ballroom. The ball wasn’t even going to be today. Apparently, the queen wanted an audience.
Zion went ahead and dismissed the two servants lingering in my suite and the fireguards outside my door, allowing Zariah to carry me over the threshold and into the bathing room as Zion set about checking the temperature of the water.
“I can walk, you know,” I protested weakly, not entirely minding being coddled a little. It was nice to just be cared for, for a charge.
Zariah set me down on my feet next to the bathing pool, the humidity in the air thick and promising a warm bath. “Strip,” he commanded, him and Zion immediately turning on their heels to face the opposite wall.
I was sure he’d insist on watching me get naked. That was more his speed, wasn’t it? Or was it Zion’s? As I forced the light leggings down my hips, my mind whirled.
Based on what I’d experienced, I was ready for them to get fresh with me, or one of them to try something while the other argued and fought. Yet, none of it happened. Not only did they give me privacy until I disappeared into the pool, but they were business-like in handing me different soaps and oils, letting me bathe myself and helping me reach my back or hold up my hair so I could get between my ears.
When I was done, Zion handed me a towel and clicked his fingers at Zariah. Both left the room. Mystified, I toweled myself dry and wrapped it around myself, not seeing any other clothes laid out. I shuffled out from the bathroom into the shared living quarters, seeing the boys looking over a selection of dresses a nervous maid had brought in on the rack.
“You’re inspecting them like they’re swords or armor, looking for any weakness,” I joked, trying to bring levity to the situation.
Zion raised an eyebrow. “They are. This will be your first official appearance to Mother. We should make a statement.”
My lips puckered with distaste. “I’d rather have the daggers and armor.”
Zariah snorted. “We can arrange that, I’m sure. It’s always a good idea to have daggers when Mother is around. Several, if you can manage it.”
I remembered the cold steel of her blade against my neck, and shivered.
Doubt crept in around me. I wasn’t some pampered princess who grew up in the Seat’s heart. I was a mud girl. I wasn’t fit to even be in the throne room, let alone sit on it.
I took a deep breath, quelling the panic in my veins. Despite my own misgivings, I was the only one in a position to help my people. If I didn’t do it, no one else would. So I steeled my nerves and pointed to a deep chocolate brown dress made of a cloth that shined in the light. It was gilded at the edges with a dusting of gold and bronze shimmers, and had no straps to hold it up around my neck. I knew the dress would show off the strength of my arms. I wanted people to be reminded that I was strong; that I had faced down a dragon and lived. I wondered vaguely where my diamond dress had got off to.
