Page 109 of Kiss of Fire

They were elegant and exquisite in their jewels and finery, the perfect planes of their faces giving them an ethereal allure that filled her heart with yearning. They had a glow about them, an iridescence that made it hard to look away.

And on the throne, the most devastatingly handsome one of all. His ebony hair fell to his shoulders in a perfect wave, framing eyes of deepest violet edged with dark lashes. His pale skin and high cheekbones, indeed his entire bone structure, looked like they had been crafted by the gods themselves.

And when his gaze fixed upon her, she was breathless at the privilege of being the focus of his attention. Her mind was dazed, as if she’d drunk too much wine.

She cocked her head. Just on the very edge of her hearing was the most beautiful sound; the kind of sound a tuning fork might make if tapped against crystal. She didn’t think to question where it came from. All she knew was that it calmed her and filled her with wonder.

She gazed at the elven around her and was humbled by their presence. The beautiful folk, Tor had called them. He had not been wrong.

The thought of Tor pained her heart. And with that little stab of anguish, the crystalline haze in her head seemed to retreat a little.

She focused on the throne again, taking in the elegant figure dressed in silk and fur. A golden circlet adorned his head, sitting just above his delicately pointed ears.

So this was Aelfric. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. No wonder her mother had liked him, once.

His perfect brow wrinkled a little.

“Why do you have blood on your face?”

Her hands flew to the cuts on her cheek, mortified at being dishevelled in the king’s presence.

“It was while I was travelling. On the horse. The centaur, I mean. I couldn’t move… couldn’t avoid the stones. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush, child. It is not your fault. Bellemar. Did I not ask you to bring her to me unharmed?”

Uneasily, the satyr came forward. As one, the entire elven crowd turned to stare at him.

“I am most sorry, sire. I did not realise.”

Raya saw Silas backing away quietly. Any loyalty he may have had to the satyr was evaporating fast. Aelfric’s violet gaze locked on Bellemar.

“Tell me, does she look unharmed to you?”

“No, sire. But if I had known, I would have remedied the situation at once, I swear.”

“Of course you would. And how could you have known?”

Aelfric’s voice was pleasant enough but there was an edge to it that twanged on Raya’s nerves. Bellemar obviously felt it too. Droplets of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“I… I should have checked. I see that now.”

“Yes. You should have checked. You failed me in a simple task.”

Bellemar threw himself to his knees, grovelling at Aelfric’s feet.

“I won’t fail you again, your majesty. I swear I won’t.”

“No. You won’t. I am sure of that.”

Lazily, the king flicked his wrist. Three shards of jet black appeared in the air next to him. They hung with intent, their pointed ends gleaming wickedly. Raya didn’t know what they were, but Bellemar seemed to.

He got to his cloven feet and backed away.

“Mercy, sire. I beg of you.”

Aelfric’s mouth curved into a smile that was both beautiful and terrible.

“You know I do not do mercy, bestial.”

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