Page 102 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
A sharp, breathless noise escaped me—half laugh, half moan. Then the music changed—softened—slowed into something tender and aching. The ballroom calmed with it. Zayn turned me gently in his arms, one hand still resting at my waist, the other brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“Dance with me, Peach,” he murmured, all fire and velvet. “Just us this time.”
He drew me into him, one hand resting low on my lower back, the other guiding mine to his shoulder. We were the only ones in black, surrounded by a sea of frost and snow and carefully polished elegance. But we moved like we were born for it. Like fire wrapped in shadows, swirling across a frozen world. I felt the electricity between us—alive and pulsing. It hummed beneath my skin, crackled in my fingertips, sang in my blood. And in that moment, I wasn’t hiding anymore. I was seen.
Zayn and I danced a few more times, completely out of sync with the rest of the world, like the music played only for us. I caught a glimpse of the queen near the far end of the ballroom. Her expression was carved from stone, her disapproval sliced through the room like a winter wind. I lifted my chin higher and ignored her.
“Let her look.”He said silently, his eyes looking deep into mine.
“She hates me. She wants me to marry the prince.”
“Do you? Do you want to marry the prince?”His tone shifted to something possessive.
“No. I do not.” I said out loud.
“Good.” He smiled.
“How are we able to do this? Talk to each other through our minds?”
“I’m not sure, Peach. But I like it.”
“Me too,”I smiled.
The music stopped mid-beat, a haunting silence swept across the ballroom like a held breath. Couples paused mid-dance. Laughter died. A thousand eyes turned toward the grand staircase where King Aymon now stood, draped in deep blue and silver, his gold crown gleaming beneath the chandelier light. “Thank you all,” he began, his voice booming with practiced authority, “for being here tonight, to celebrate unity, tradition, and strength.”
Zayn tensed beside me. Then he grabbed my hand, he was leading me off the dance floor, toward the shadows along the side wall. We stopped near one of the tall windows, half-concealed behind a curtain. His grip on me didn’t loosen.
Aymon’s voice rang out again. “For years, we have endured the threat of Fae aggression. We’ve tolerated their existence in the shadows. But the time for tolerance has passed.”
A cheer rose from the crowd—one that made my stomach twist.
“We will reclaim our lands,” Aymon continued, “and remind the Fae what it means to trespass on human soil.” Another roar of approval. I stood frozen, lips parted, heart pounding, as heat surged beneath my skin. “And thanks to the brilliance of our blacksmiths,” Aymon said, gesturing toward a servant who carried a velvet tray, “we now holdone of the keys to their destruction. The other, remains a secret.”
The servant unveiled a thick silver-and-iron neck cuff, gleaming under the torchlight like something from a dungeon. “With this,” Aymon declared, lifting it high for all to see, “we will strip the Fae of their magic. Bind them. Break them. And then…” He smiled. “We kill them.”
The cheers that followed were deafening. Gleeful. Violent. Applause thundered through the marble floor as nobles raised glasses in celebration—of murder.
My hands trembled.
The hum beneath my skin grew louder—my magic reacted to my fury, to the injustice, to the sheer horror of the moment. I felt like I was going to explode, fire and air and earth twisting through me with nowhere to go. Across the ballroom, Eryn stared at me, her lips pressed into a hard line. Gavrin’s brow furrowed in quiet disbelief. Makar’s usual smirk was gone—replaced by something colder. And even Kalista looked shaken as her eyes flicked between Zayn and me.
Zayn leaned in, his voice barely a breath against my ear. “We need to get out of here.”
But I couldn’t look away from Aymon. Couldn’t unsee the iron cuff, couldn’t unhear the cheers. “I want to see my father,” I said, jaw tight.
“Elara—”
“I need to see him.”
He didn’t argue. He just nodded once, jaw clenched, and took my hand again. As the celebration continued behindus—bloodthirsty and blind—I walked away from it all,hand in hand with Zayn.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Eryn and Gavrin made their way to us, tension humming between every step. We walked towards the dungeons.
They didn’t ask questions. They just followed.
The halls outside the ballroom were dim and silent, the laughter and music from inside now distant and false. We moved quickly through the winding corridors, torches flickering along the stone walls.
