Page 44 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
I swallowed, the weight of her words settled in my chest. My fury didn’t leave me—it simmered like hot coals under my skin—but it twisted into something else. Something rawer. Conflicted.
I frowned. “What does it mean… to be marked by Windaria?”
Eryn’s expression softened, though reverence flickered in her eyes. “It means the land itself claims you. The air bends to your presence, the winds know your name before you even speak it. No spell—”
“Well, almost no spell,” Makar cut in with a smirk.
Eryn shot him a look but continued, “No crown, no army can forge that connection. It is older than kings, older than the courts themselves. Only those chosen by prophecy are marked, and only they can sit the throne without tearing the kingdom apart.”
Confusion twisted through me. “But then… how can Thrandor rule if he wasn’t marked?”
The two of them exchanged a look. Makar’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know he wasn’t?”
My voice shook, but I forced the truth out. “Because he killed my parents. Sylvain and Iridessa… they were my Fae parents.”
Their mouths fell open.
“Well, holy shit. I should get down on my knees and grovel to you,” Makar muttered.
“You’d like it too much,” I said back.
Eryn drew in a sharp breath, her voice hushed but urgent. “That explains everything. Thrandor spilled their blood, killed them both, and bound their deaths to himself. With a Mage’s forbidden spell, he tricked Windaria into letting him claim the throne. He chained the kingdom to his will. That is how he’s ruled—by corruption, not by prophecy.” She gripped my arm tightly. “Elara, does he know who you are? That you survived?”
“No. How would he?” I asked. My stomach turned at the thought.
“He will find out eventually,” Makar said grimly. “And when he does, he won’t be happy knowing the throne technically belongs to you… not him.”
The words hung heavy, echoing in my chest.
I tried to steady myself, but my voice cracked. “Then why would Zayn go back to tell his father anything happening here at Irongate? Wouldn’t that just be feeding information to the enemy?”
Eryn exhaled slowly. “Because Zayn was sent here as his father’s assassin. We don’t know the exact assignment, but it isn’t hard to guess—most likely, he was sent to kill King Aymon.”
My brows drew together. “But why? Why would the Fae even care about the human realm when they already have everything they want?” Panic pricked through me as another thought surfaced. “Fintan…” My chest clenched. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.
“As I said, King Aymon has some kind of weapon hidden in the castle,” Eryn explained with a shrug. “We don’t know what it is. But whatever it is, Aymon plans to use it to destroy the Fae realm.”
“I don’t even know what to believe anymore,” I admitted, my voice breaking as I sank against the nearest tree. “My world has been torn apart, and I don’t even know how to piece any of it back together.”
“Then believe what you see,” Makar said smoothly, stepping between us, his tone lighter though his eyes gleamed sharp. “Which is why you need to channel all that lovely fury into something more useful than standing around brooding.”
I glared at him. “Like what?”
He grinned. “Magic. Let’s see how much heat you can throw without setting the forest on fire.”
We shifted to a wide, grassy rise just beyond the tree line, where the ground was soft enough not to shatter my bones if something went wrong. Makar circled me, arms folded, as Eryn leaned against a nearby tree and watched with an amused smirk.
“Small bursts,” Makar instructed. “Nothing flashy. No infernos. You’ve done that. This is about control. Light it. Snuff it. Light it again. Let your fire and earth breathe together—find rhythm.”
I inhaled, grounding myself as I raised a palm to the sky and called the flame. It sparked into being with a crackle, golden-orange and swirled like a wisp caught in the wind. My other hand touched the ground, and I called the roots, the soil, the hum of the earth’s pulse.
Balance.
But it was like trying to dance on a tightrope in a storm. The fire wanted more. The earth resisted. The two fought in my chest, and I had to grit my teeth to keep them from exploding outward.
“Good,” Makar murmured. “Now—release.”
I exhaled sharply, extinguishing both. The stillness left me gasping, my body trembling from the strain.
