Page 89 of King of Fire and Flames

“Gods, I sure hope we’re dead when they start feasting on us,” I said as Ruhh shot into the air, disappearing, and leaving us to our fates. But I held no hard feelings. She’d done all she could, and I just hoped she made it back to the palace safely.

At the sound of my voice, the creatures’ heads canted, their slitted irises widening. I’d assumed they could see me, but as they sniffed the air, tracing my scent, I realized that they couldn’t. I didn’t know which god in which realm I had to thank, but the magic of the orchid petals seemed to work on the grymarians.

Keeping her gaze averted from me, Ari raised a finger to her lips, pretending to brush something away, perhaps an insect, a clear sign for me to stay silent.

“My energy is depleted, and my cloak has failed,” she whispered between gritted teeth. “They can see us, but not you, Leaf. Go now. Hurry.”

Arrow released my hand. “Go,” he said gruffly. “For once, do as I ask.”

“Not leaving without you,” I whispered.

“Yes, you are. Look carefully at the beasts’ magic. Someone’s coming. If you won’t leave for your own sake, then go for ours. We’ll need someone to get us out of this mess.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, squinting at the guardians. “Who’s coming?”

The beasts prowled closer, the black smoke thickening until the outlines of three bodies became visible. Then Azarn, Melaya, and Neeron stepped out of the dark haze.

“I told you, My King,” said the sneering Sun envoy. “I knew they were up to something when I saw the human leave the fire cave with Esen a few days ago. As soon as I noticed the guardians take to the air this morning, I guessed what terrible deed the storm fae had accomplished.”

Melaya flicked his fingers, and Ari’s reaver cloak retracted.

Azarn’s crown of black flames swayed in the breeze as he stepped closer to us. Growls rumbled from the grymarians’ chests, their animal stares fixed on my friends, who were now completely visible.

“Sayeeda, what interest have you in the orc’s survival?” asked Azarn.

“He is a particular friend of my family’s,” said Ari. “His father helped our Zareen during the War of Attrition. Elves never forget a kindness and aim to repay it tenfold.”

“Did you bring gold serum into my land? Is that what you used to poison my son?” He nodded at Bakhur’s limp form, still snoring gently in Esen’s arms.

Ari met the Fire King’s gaze, not flinching. “Yes,” she lied. “It acts as a sleeping tonic on sensitive fae. I took a chance it might work on him. And it paid off.”

Azarn’s jaw ticked as he strutted back and forth in front of our line, his hands behind his back as if making a decision. Finally, he stopped in front of Arrow, so close I could smell the scent of sleep on his royal bed robes.

“Even though you deserve it, Arrowyn, I don’t believe I shall kill you just yet,” said Azarn, turning slightly toward Esen. “And although you chose to protect my son from the guardians, you were part of this foolish plot and perhaps instrumental in its design. You betrayed me and must join your former master in the dungeon.”

Silent, Esen bowed her head.

“Retrieve the prince,” barked Azarn, and Neeron took Bakhur from Esen, stumbling a little at his dead weight.

Waves of fury rolled off Arrow’s body, prickling my skin. Without a doubt, he longed to blow the City of Taln to dust, his actions hindered only by Melaya’s power block.

The fire mage bristled, flames leaping in his eyes, as if he’d love nothing more than to snap the Storm King’s neck. It would be quite a sight to witness—the two of them engaged in battle, their powers unrestricted. But alas, that wouldn’t happen today.

Azarn wrapped his dark robe tighter around his chest and leaned close to Arrow. “From now on, your gold reaver will serve me.”

“That’s impossible,” Arrow ground out. “There are ceremonies, rituals that must be completed. The Sun Realm has no Accord with Auryinnia.”

“That is true. But perhaps the Sayeeda’s terms of service will be a little… different to the bond you shared with her, Arrowyn. Regardless, I believe we will get along quite well.”

“If you hurt her—”

“What will you do?” Azarn asked, grinning as he circled him. “Having repaid my friendship by releasing an enemy of my court, you’re in no position to make any demands.”

Arrow released a frustrated sigh. “Orion’s sentence was too harsh. Savage, in fact. Killing him would’ve been kinder. You’ve already made him pay for his betrayal a thousand times over.”

Azarn laughed, his fingers combing through his beard. “How ironic that the ruler known for stringing slaves from a pavilion high above his city, carving them up, and letting their blood paint the sides of his palace while they died slow deaths, even thinks to call me harsh. You, Arrowyn Ramiel, are the savage.”

“King Darian did those horrible things, not me. I have never taken pleasure in another being’s suffering. I will never be like you or my father.”

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