Page 32 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

I only make it halfway down the corridor before a dark shadow falls across the floor.

My heart jerks as Draven walks around the corner and into the empty corridor. He stops when he sees me. I don’t. Keeping my chin raised, I continue forwards, intending to walk right past him and back to the ballroom.

But my pulse thrums in my ears. This is the first time I’ve seen him since I embarrassed him during the power display earlier.

I resist the urge to lick my lips nervously.

His sharp eyes track my every move.

I’m almost there. Almost. Just one more?—

Right before I can walk past him, he yanks up his arm in front of me and slams his palm against the wall, blocking my way. I whip my head towards him.

His eyes glint in the firelight as he twists his body, using his size to force me to turn with him until I’m facing him with my back towards the wall. He keeps his hand on the wall, caging me in further.

My pulse patters as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze.

A sly smile blows across Draven’s lips as he locks eyes with me. “Going somewhere, little rebel?”

My heart jerks and then beats erratically at the sound of that nickname, even though I know that he doesn’t mean it as an actual accusation of treason.

Discreetly, I raise my leg a little and brace my foot against the wall behind me. “Are you following me?”

His eyes gleam again. “Do you need to be followed?”

While keeping my gaze firmly locked on his, I push the silver fabric a little away from my now slightly raised leg. My fingers curl around the hilt of the knife that I have strapped to my thigh underneath the dress.

“No,” I reply. “But you do seem to have an unhealthy obsession with tracking me down in empty corridors. Can I suggest a hobby instead? Perhaps knitting since you’re so fond of pointy sticks.”

A burst of laughter rips from his chest.

He immediately snaps his mouth shut again, cutting off the shocking sound. I stare at him, completely flabbergasted. Did he just…laugh?

Draven blinks, looking equally stunned.

Then he gives his head an almost imperceptible shake, as if composing himself, and his usual air of power and command returns. He moves closer. A dangerous expression settles on his lethally handsome features.

“That little stunt you pulled during the power demonstration was very interesting,” he says, his voice wrapping around me like dark silk. “I haven’t felt panic that strong in centuries.”

My fingers tighten around the hilt of my knife, but I keep my voice level as I reply, “You must not have lived a very exciting life then.”

“You think I’ve lived a boring life?”

“You’re the one who implied it.”

He doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he narrows his eyes and studies my face for a few seconds in silence. Since I’m now certain that he hasn’t tracked me down to kill me, I carefully release the knife and then let my foot slide the short distance down the wall and back to the floor. After all, if Draven wanted me dead, he would have just rammed his sword through my heart the moment he cornered me.

A hint of curiosity, or maybe confusion, flickers in his eyes.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he says at last.

It’s more of a statement than a question, but I reply anyway. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because fear is a weapon. It gives other people power over you without them even having to do anything.” A wicked little smile ghosts across my lips. “I should know. I use it against people all the time.”

“Interesting.”

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