Page 75 of A City of Flames

“There’s no harm in trying, besides I know Link, and I’m sure he’d be thrilled if it’s you who is asking him.” Link had shown a keen interest in my brother since the moment I introduced them, along with the million questions he’d ask me mainly about Illias despite his denial.

“As long as he is no Kye—”

“He is most definitely not a Kye.” My brow lifts, he never deserved my brother’s love.

Illias beams at me, bending down to kiss my cheek before rushing into the crowd. I chuckle softly, watching as he approaches Link and bows. Even from here, Links cheeks flush crimson, accepting my brother’s hand.

“Solaris.” A soft gasp escapes Freya, rushing to stand beside me, and in a whisper, she grips my gloved wrist, saying, “rulers of other kingdoms are here.”

I screw my forehead, searching the crowd before looking back at Freya. She jerks her head to the left as the ruby jewels in her updo shimmer much like her dress. “That’s the sea king, ruling all of Undarion and its water creatures.”

Subtly turning to look in the direction where Freya points, I watch as a few people of high class laugh alongside a man of short, white-frosted hair. Skin kissed by summer in a dark bronze gleam and a crown made of lapis lazuli shards atop his head.

“I’ve only spoken to him once before I left my father,” Freya says. “But a word of advice, don’t tell him Selkies are better than Mermans.”

Now I want to.

“Oh, and those.” She moves her gaze to the other side of the throne room. “Phoenix warriors of Aeris.”

I gulp as I stare at the three warriors, all women with their sleek ebony hair braided down to the waist. Red armor coats them with the crescent of a gold phoenix on their chest plates.

They look wild and spiritedly beautiful; with their rose-tinted skin and ethereal shimmer to them. Outshining the entire place, the one in the middle locks her gaze with mine. Sharp features contour her face despite her smile, but someone else comes into view at that second, and my body ignites.

Lorcan in his venator armor, except this time, donning a red cape and showing the second in command that he is.

He stops in front of us, blocking the sight of the Aeris warriors as he beholds me. “You’re magnificent,” he exhales it like he is genuinely out of breath.

My heart speeds in my chest, but I can feel Idris’s gaze on us, causing me to say unequivocally, “You know I’m not the biggest fan of compliments.”

Lorcan doesn’t take notice of Idris. His lip quirks into that white shine of a smile. “Well, I like giving them to only one person in this very room.”

Idris coughs, moving closer. My heart now races, even more, this time with worry over Idris’s instant protective mannerisms.

“Idris!” Freya jabbers out, hooking her arm around his and attempting to lead him away. “Have I told you how fascinating it is that you make weapons?” She looks over her shoulder at me with a small smile, and I titter in appreciation.

“Once or twice,” Idris grumbles.

Freya scolds him. “You don’t have to be so moody about it you—”

“Deputy Halen,” a wise woman’s voice with a slight accent says as Freya walks away, making me swirl my head to meet with the Aeris warriors.

The one who’d looked at me and smiled stands in the middle of the other two, shaking hands with Lorcan as he says firmly, “Hira, a pleasure seeing you here again.” He turns to me. “This is Naralía Ambrose, a venator trainee.”

Her gaze traces over me, slow enough to make someone feel intimidated but not with ill intent; her curiosity rings through her. I always assume they will recognize my last name and correlate that with my father, but instead, she asks, “I suppose we will see you for the venator tests?”

My mouth parts, but I’m not sure how to reply. In just a few months, so much has happened, now meeting an Aerian—a phoenix is something that not in my wildest dreams could I conjure. All I had ever known is that they live an immortal life, but that didn’t mean they aged wisely in phoenix form, and at one point, there’s a rebirth from ashes. Hira’s firm lines around her lips, the taut expressions yet edged with natural charm, tells me she’s possibly hundreds of years old.

“She’s one of the best to succeed,” Lorcan gloats for me even if my confidence had dwindled lately. His gaze drops to my hand and the glove I’d not taken off before the corner of his lips lifts.

But on Hira, her smile doesn’t quite reach her deep-set fire eyes. “Then we look forward to seeing her there.” She and her peers excuse themselves, waltzing off. I know that rulers dislike one another, yet now that they are forced to be civil, Hira’s reaction to the trials makes me wonder if she agrees to it.

Freya doesn’t. I always knew that. She tells me how it saddens her to even kill a dragon, but if she mentioned that to the general, I don’t want to know how he’d react.

Wanting to rid myself of these trial thoughts, I tilt to speak to Lorcan when something in my peripheral catches my attention. I turn fully to the dance floor, and thinking my eyes are deceiving me again, I squint, holding in a curse word as Darius breaks through the dancing crowd. Just how he’d done that day with my brothers. Grace and elegance shadow him as he waltzes in our direction, dressed in a blood-red tunic. Gold thread borders the sides, and then he’s inches away.

With a cheery smile, he brings out his hand to meet Lorcan’s, ignoring my stupefied countenance. “Archer Fipps, a merchant from the city—”

Archer.

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