Page 20 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
Just then, an embarrassing growl had emanated from my stomach, echoing in the stillness and causing my cheeks to warm with a flush. Fintan chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he took my hand once more. “Let’s go get you a proper meal,” he declared with a wink.
As we approached the same castle doors I had so recklessly fled through not long ago, a familiar unease began to stir within me. It started as a whisper in the back of my mind, but soon grew into a wave crashing through my chest, tightening my throat and slicking my hands with sweat.
The massive iron doors stood like sentinels before us—cold, stiff, ancient. My gaze was drawn to the symbols etched deep into the metal, twisting and coiling like living things. They shimmered faintly in the sunlight, not with gold or silver, but with something… older. Something watching.
I tilted my head, studying them. What language was this? It felt like it should be familiar, but the characters danced just beyond recognition, slippery and strange.
Fintan, walking a step behind me, must have noticed my fascination.
“Ah,” he said with casual arrogance, “those are wards—spells, actually. Woven into the iron by some Mage who lived here long before any of us. My father used to go on about how they were meant to keep Fae out of the castle.”He gave a short, amused huff. “Doesn’t really make sense to me, honestly. I mean, what’s the point of a ward if someone on the inside can just open the damn door anyway?” He shrugged, as if ancient protective magic was just another inconvenience.
It made perfect sense to me, though.
Given how the doors had burned me before—without even touching them—I was more than inclined to believe the spell still had bite. I made a silent mental note: Never trust a door in this gods-forsaken castle.
Just as a sliver of doubt slithered into my chest, the prince—ever poised and unreadable—stepped ahead. Without a word, he pressed his hands to the great iron handles and pulled them open with effortless grace.
The doors groaned in protest, as if the castle itself disapproved of my return, but they yielded. The prince didn’t look back at me, only motioned for me to enter first with a slight incline of his head.
It wasn’t kindness. It was courtesy. But still, it struck me.
He was nothing like his father.
Not yet anyway.
Stepping inside the kitchen, the rich aromas surrounded me, a symphony of spices and roasted meats that hinted at the elaborate feast being prepared for what felt like hundreds of people. The same four figures were hard at work, moving with practiced precision amid pots bubbling over simmering stoves and trays laden with vibrant ingredients. The short woman, with her keen eyes and infectious smile, observed me as we approached.
“Mmmm!” Fintan hummed. “Do you mind if we help ourselves, Molyara?” the prince asked her. Her dark brown skin glowed against the soft lighting.
She smiled at the prince; something about her seemed incredibly welcoming, and I couldn’t help but thinkmaybe they were friends. “Please, Prince Silverthorn, you know I prefer you to call me Yara.”
Fintan walked up to the large table where the food was spread out and grabbed two plates. “And you know, Yara, I prefer it when you call me Fin. You practically raised me. You have the right to call me that.”
“Elara, this is Molyara—”
“Yara,” she interrupted, her voice assured, surprising me with her boldness. That single act of defiance had often been a grave offense in the court; anyone who spoke to royalty like that could easily have their head chopped off.
Fintan had returned her warmth with a broad smile, “And this is Sivka,” he had motioned to the tall woman with his head and then continued, “Cendrin—our main chef, and truly a culinary genius—and this lovely lady is Kalista.”
“Named after thegoddessherself,” Kalista said.
“You wish,” Cendrin laughed, causing Kalista to huff.
Fintan waved a hand toward Sivka, who bustled nearby, her hands deftly arranging the fragrant dishes, and then gestured to Kalista, who was adjusting a bouquet of flowers on the table. “Yara and Kalista will be around often, as they will be tending to your room and preparing you for special events. Sivka is usually in the kitchen, though her primary focus is usually on the Queen.” Sivka gave a sarcastic expression, making the prince chuckle.
I couldn’t help but notice the way Kalista had gazed at the prince, her eyes sparkling with an unmistakable admiration that made it clear she had a crush on him. As he introduced her to me, she avoided making eye contact, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. Kalista had been incredibly striking; she was younger, probably around my age. Her long, light-blonde hair had been meticulously woven into a single braid that cascaded down her back, framing her curvy features. I bet the prince liked his woman curvy... not skinnyand bony like me. However, I did have a nice ass. When the Prince shifted his gaze away, I caught a glimpse of Kalista’s irritation; she shot me a sharp glare, as if blaming me for the prince’s fleeting attention.
Well, shit. I’ll have to remember not to be on her bad side.
Cendrin was a heavyset, older man who you could tell had poured his heart into the cuisine he made. His large, rounded belly jiggled as he pointed to me with a large wooden stew spoon. His light skin glistened with sweat. “Anything you ever need, you just let me know, little lady. A friend of the prince is a friend to me!” I adored his thick accent.
Fintan started filling two plates with assorted cheeses, fruits, meats, and some bread. My mouth watered just looking at everything. “It smells divine in here!” I said.
He began filling two plates with an assortment of artisanal cheeses, succulent fruits, savory cured meats, and freshly baked bread, each item more mouthwatering than the last. The rich, fragrant aromas wafting through the air had made my stomach rumble in anticipation. “Thank you all so much!” I exclaimed, unable to contain my delight.
“Oh, please. It’s not like we made this for you. You’ve probably never even seen food like this before, let alone this much… given being a peasant and all,” Kalista said with disdain. Why did she hate me so much already?
I knew that would eat me up. Being a people pleaser and all. I shouldn’t care. But I did.
