Page 62 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

The door shuts behind me while I stumble to a halt and straighten on the pale stone floor. There are a few bookcasesalong the walls, though they’re empty, and a round table in the middle of the room. The chairs around it are covered with a thin layer of dust. Evidence that this meeting room has not been used for what is probably centuries.

Other than those pieces of furniture, the room is empty.

Well, apart from the glowering dragon commander who glares at me from only two steps away.

“Mabona’s tits,” I huff, shooting him an exasperated stare. “You really do need to get yourself a hobby. How many times have you ambushed me in deserted corridors by now?” I shake my head at him. “Don’t answer that. I already know. And given that the answer isa lot, one might start to think that you’re obsessed with me.”

Moving closer to the door, I reach for the handle so that I can open it and slip away before he starts doing whatever it is that he plans on doing.

I only manage to get the door open half a foot before Draven slams his palm against it and shoves it shut with a bang. Keeping his hand firmly on the door, he twists and uses his superior size to force me to twist with him until my back is against the door. His eyes sear into mine as he fixes me with a commanding stare.

“How did you manage to present an undamaged egg?” he demands. His voice is laced with frustration, and he curls his fingers against the smooth wood of the door while he clenches his jaw. “You are not able to mend glass. So how did you do it?”

Looking up at him, I let a mask of fake innocence settle on my features. “I just kept it safe through the whole maze.” The smile on my lips twists into a sly smirk. “Why? Are you saying that there was a reason why I would need to mend it?”

He squeezes his hand into a fist. A muscle flickers in his jaw as he stares me down in angry silence.

I blow out a frustrated breath and then drop all pretense. It’s enough. I’ve had enough. I’m barely making it through the trialswithout his interference, and I can’t take much more of this. And he’s being petty and vindictive for absolutely no reason.

Holding his gaze, I shake my head while true exhaustion washes over me. “Can you stop sabotaging me now? Please. This is starting to get ridiculous. All of this just because of one spilled drink.”

“You threw it.”

“Fine,” I snap, my patience running out. “I threw it.” Frustration courses through me like lightning as I glare up at him. “It’s still ridiculous. I threw one drink at you because I panicked, and you make it your mission in life to ruin my chances of winning the trials. To ruin my whole damnlife! It’s absurd and petty and ridiculous?—”

“It’s not just about the drink!”

The words rip out of him with such force that I actually jerk back in surprise. Blinking, I stare at him.

Finally taking his hand off the door, he rakes both hands through his hair and forces out a long breath. Anger and frustration and impatience flash across his face.

“Then what’s it about?” I ask, frowning at him.

His gaze snaps back to me, and it’s so full of fury that it steals the breath from my lungs. Dropping his hands from his hair, he flexes them at his sides. Anger rolls off his broad shoulders like waves of black smoke. His gaze sears through me, burning my very soul, as he holds my stare.

“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t allow these Atonement Trials to even exist in the first place,” he growls. “None of you should be allowed to win this competition.”

The words are a stab right through my heart. Even though I know that he hates me, and even though I hate him too for being the leader of the enemy army, it still hurts beyond belief to hear that he doesn’t think that any of us deserve a chance to win our freedom. That we don’t deserve even a chance at a better life.

Anger explodes through me, burning away any scraps of caution, and I raise my hands and give him a hard shove right in the chest. It surprises him enough that he actually stumbles a step back.

“Get off your fucking high horse,” I snap at him. My voice is coming out too high and too strained, but I don’t care. “You’re no better than us.”

He straightens from the shove and narrows his eyes at me.

But now that I’ve started speaking, I can’t seem to stop. Decades of pent-up frustration and anger and resentment pour out of me like a flood.

“You’ve kept us on our knees at your fucking feet formillennia!” I scream at him. “My great grandparents weren’t even born when you killed the last of the dragon riders. And the last dragon shifter to be enslaved by fae died centuries ago.” Pain tears through my soul as I hold his gaze and stab a hand against my chest. “Why amIbeing punished for a crime that I didn’t even commit?”

For one single second, it almost looks as if he understands. Almost looks as if sympathy flashes across his face. But then that arrogant expression of ruthless authority is back on his face again.

“You know nothing of what it’s like to be enslaved,” he says, his voice low and dark.

“Neither do you! For Mabona’s sake, you weren’t even born when your ancestors killed their riders.”

His eyes flash. “My ancestors had no riders.”

A laugh rips from my chest at his fucking ridiculous pride and pettiness. “Oh that’s right.” I flick a mocking look up and down his body. “Because you’re from the elusive Black Dragon Clan that ruled the Western Sea alone while everyone else bickered on the mainland.” A vicious smile slides across my lips. “Until you sold out your own people for power.”

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