Page 4 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

The collective gasp that rips through the tavern could probably be heard halfway to the Unseelie Court. All the fae patrons, and all the shifters from the Red Dragon patrol too, stare wide-eyed at the scene before them.

Clear liquid slides down along Draven’s sharp cheekbones and over his chiseled jaw before dripping down on the front of his black armor. Firelight from the hearth makes the drops that cling to his dark eyebrows glint before they slip down to curve around his eyes on their way down his face. His mouth was slightly open when I threw the drink, so a few drops rest along the top of his bottom lip as well.

For what feels like an eternity, no one says anything. No one moves. No one even dares to breathe.

My head spins, dizzy with disbelief. Mabona’s tits, I just threw a drink in Draven Ryat’s face.

I stare at the drops sliding down his skin. Well, at least it was a glass offirechaser, which is a strong and clear liquor, and not a sticky and foul-smelling ale or something. If anything, the concentrated alcohol should help clean the dirt off his armor. Which I realize now is absolutely spotless, so there is no dirt to clean off. But that?—

Draven’s tongue darts out, running lightly along the seam of his bottom lip to lick the alcohol off. The sight of it snaps me out of my spinning thoughts.

His golden eyes sear through my very soul as he stares me down.

Only mere seconds have passed since I threw the drink.

The whole tavern is holding its breath.

Draven cocks his head.

I bolt.

Clamor and raised voices echo behind me as the soldiers snap out of their stupor and lurch into motion to stop the lunatic who just threw a drink in their commander’s face, but I’m already out the door.

I use the tavern’s front door so that, in case there are still some resistance leaders escaping through the back door, the soldiers won’t see them since they’re chasing me in the opposite direction.

My heart slams against my ribs as I skid out onto the cobblestones and sprint towards the nearest side street. I need to make the soldiers lose sight of me. If I can do that, I will be able to disappear into the crowd. The dragon shifters might patrol these streets, but they don’t know them like we do. LikeIdo. This is my home. I know every nook and cranny like the back of my hand.

Boots pound against stone behind me as the soldiers give chase. I throw myself around the next corner. But shouts split the air, informing me that they saw me. I push myself harder.

Wooden buildings flash past on either side of me as I hurtle down the next street while praying to Mabona, the fae goddess, that I will have luck on my side today. Because there is one gigantic flaw in my plan to disappear into the crowd. The soldiers might have to chase me on foot, or shift into dragons and try to find me from above in their huge hulking forms, butDraven is capable of a half-shift. He could simply fly after me through the streets. And if he does, I’m doomed.

So I pray to Mabona that he is too prideful to chase after me himself and that he will instead leave that to the grunts who serve underneath him.

I leap over a broken crate of half-rotted turnips and swerve around a barrel of potatoes. The people who were trying to sort through the root vegetables to find which ones can still be saved scramble back so quickly that they knock over their stools. Wooden clattering echoes between the crooked buildings around me as the stools hit the street while I continue sprinting down the road.

A narrow alley is coming up on my left, but the soldiers are still too close. They will see me if I dart into it. So instead, I take an abrupt right and leap straight in through an open window.

Shocked cries ring out as I roll right over someone’s kitchen table. But I can’t stop to see what they’re doing, because I need to make it to the door on the other side before the shifters can spot me.

Shoving a chair out of the way, I barrel through the kitchen and out towards where I assume the back door to be.

“Where is she?” the captain demands from outside the open window.

“B-back door,” the terrified owner of this house replies from the kitchen right as I yank open the back door and slip out.

A frustrated snarl rips from the captain’s throat. It’s cut off when I throw the back door shut behind me and sprint out onto the empty road behind the building. The dragon shifters must either pass through the house too or go around the entire length of buildings. Either way, it buys me enough time.

I take a quick left and then a right before running along another deserted street. The sound of pounding footsteps from behind is no longer audible. And there are no black wings ofdeath following me either. I breathe a small sigh of relief but still continue to weave in random patterns through the city to make sure that they have truly lost me.

Eventually, I end up at the Golden Gate, the gate on the west side of the city which leads to the Golden Palace.

In the shadows of the gate, I stop and lean my back against the rough stones of the city wall. My chest heaves after my lengthy run. Tilting my head back, I rest it against the cold stones.

Gray afternoon light from the overcast sky paints the grasslands outside in bleak hues, making the dead trees that line the walk to the palace look even more miserable.

Aching sadness fills my chest.

It didn’t used to look like this. In the old paintings, saved and kept secret and passed down from generation to generation, this path was magnificent. Grand trees with vibrant leaves and colorful flowers lined the walk from the city to the palace, making it look like the trees were forever living in a glorious season of spring. Now, only burnt trunks remain.

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