Page 1 of Queen of Fire

1

Kira

Dancers dressed in black weaved through the middle of the ballroom, leaving trails of white flower petals in their shadows.

The castle ballroom had been adorned with black roses. Candles floated above the heads of partygoers and dancers alike, held there by an enchantment cast by the flurry of magic wielders that hung around the corners of the party, their faces stern with concentration. Buffet tables filled with food had been pushed towards the back wall to make way for the dancers and their after-dinner show.

Nobility from every corner of the Fire Kingdom had gathered for this evening. I had been living in Fire for three months, and this was the fifth grand event that had been held in the castle, but they much ran the same. An obscenely over-the-top dinner, followed by a show — either dancers like this evening, or magic wielders searching for the gasps and awe of the guests — and then a ball which would stretch into the small hours of the morning, at which point the nobles would fall into their carriages and leave the castle in a deafening silence.

This party, however, felt different. This party was not to celebrate whatever Cyrus felt like celebrating, this was for me. My acceptance of the throne had happened this afternoon in front of the local cities and villages. Some people travelling for days to see the historic event.

I was now, officially, the Queen of Fire and Earth. The first.

I let my eyes wander over the guests gathered nearest the patio doors, and a stab of jealousy hit my stomach at the thought of being that close to fresh air and a cool breeze.

Fire truly lived up to its name. Even now, well into the Autumn season, the heat and humidity of the air had sweat running down my back even sitting still. It was stifling enough that I had hunted out a magic wielder my second week here and asked them to put a cooling spell on my bed chambers. They had, thankfully, and I had been able to sleep somewhat soundly since then.

Cyrus shifted in his throne beside me, a small grunt of uncomfort coming from him as he did so. We were both sat in thrones made from the most precious of gold, with black velvet cushioning on the seat and back. They were as comfortable as they possibly could be, but even they would be considered uncomfortable after three hours sat on them, straight backed with a heavy crown on your head.

My hands itched against the solid armrest, and I curled my fingers into my palms, taking a deep breath through my nose and trying to ignore the constant itch under my skin. The small dagger strapped to my thigh felt heavy, and I shifted slightly to try and loosen the leather sheath against my sweat slicked skin.

I had acquired the dagger by chance. A young soldier who had been walking past my bed chamber’s door right as I had entered the hallway had dipped down into a bow, dropping all twelve of the daggers he had sheathed to him. I had bent down with the intention of helping him pick them all up, but when my hand had wrapped around the small, ivory white handle, I slipped it into the large pocket of my skirt without him noticing.

He had been so flustered and apologetic that he did not notice it was gone.

Uproarious applause pulled me back to the present, and to the now bowing dancers, their chests rising and falling quickly as they looked to Cyrus and I for approval. I let a smile plaster itself to my face and stood, clapping alongside the guests. Cyrus joined me, standing besideme, his signature half-smile making my chest flush with more than just the heat of the ballroom.

Cyrus’s hand slid onto the bottom of my back, his skin blisteringly hot even over the fabric of my dress.

I did not have to look at him to know that now we were expected to lead the guests into the first dance of the evening. Picking the skirt of my dress up with one hand, I let the other fall to my side as we stepped away from our thrones, taking the steps of the dais slowly and making our way towards the center of the ballroom.

The room fell to hushed whispers, the sounds of the string ensemble readying their instruments the only thing I could focus on as Cyrus and I stood to face each other; making eye contact for the first time since the evening started. My breath caught uncomfortably in my chest as he smiled at me, holding out his hand for me to take and bowing at the waist. I dropped down into a curtsy, sliding my hand into his once I stood straight again. Cyrus pulled me tight against him, his other hand returning to the small of my back, while I placed mine on his shoulder, taking a breath and trying to settle the nerves in my stomach.

It never got easier, even though we had done this so many times before.

The band started up their composition for us, and Cyrus twirled me slowly around the ballroom. The music started slow and steady, keeping us close together and moving at an almost leisurely pace.

Cyrus cleared his throat, looking down at me as we moved across the room, a small smirk on his face.

“Is there a reason, my love, as to why you’re armed this evening?” He asked, his voice inaudible to any of the guests passing us by as we moved. My eyes snapped to him in shock, but he was staring down at the slit in the skirt of my dress. I glanced down, and cursed at the sight of the dagger only just peeking through every time I took a step.

Cyrus laughed, shaking his head, and squeezing my hand tightly.

“No-one will hurt you here, Sweetheart. Not tonight.”

His voice was sincere, but when I looked up at him again, his eyes were focused far over my shoulder. I frowned, trying to turn my head to see where he was looking, but he had already spun us away. The music had started to pick up pace, as was standard in Fire dances, so I was learning, and soon we were moving so quickly that the surrounds of the ballroom had turned into nothing more than golden blurs, broken up by splashes of vibrancy from people’s clothes.

My breath left me in quick pants, and my fingers tightened into the fabric of Cyrus’s suit jacket.

Applause filled the room again as we slowed to a stop, and I stepped back from Cyrus again. He held tightly onto my hand, dipping his head to leave a light kiss on my knuckles, but not once did he break my eye contact. Ifelt the heat flush to my chest, but I hoped it would come across as I was simply just too warm.

People moved from the sides of the room then, milling about and taking to the dance floor themselves. Cyrus grinned at me, sliding his fingers through mine, and directing me towards a group of nobles I had begun to recognize. They had been at every party so far, and as far as I could tell, they were the closest thing to friends Cyrus had outside of his adviser, Cirro.

Cirro was Fae, but he was unlike any I had ever met. Where most Fae were easily distinguishable by their good looks and tall stature, Cirro was short and unsightly. He had a bulbous nose and a belly that liked to pop his shirt buttons after a large meal. He never smiled and was always whispering into Cyrus’s ear about something. Cyrus, though, seemed to adore him, so I put up with the strange looks he gave me and tried my hardest to ignore him.

The evening passed in a flurry of dances with noble men and women, buffet food, and breaths of fresh air caught whenever I was near enough to the patio doors.

Gracie found me halfway through the evening, the heat making her hair frizz around the crown worse than I had ever seen. She had been struggling a lot the last months with missing Callum, so the fact she had agreed to come to this ball after avoiding the last few seemed like a step in the right direction. I linked my arm through hers, directing her towards a server with a tray of wine, and grabbed us both a large glass of the richest red the castlehad.

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