Page 173 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

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Alina stepped into the dimly lit chamber, her gown whispering against the polished floor as she moved. The room was modest, smaller than expected, but the enormous balcony bathed it in golden light, the dying sun setting fire to the horizon. A long wooden table stretched between them, laden with delicacies she could not stomach.Zahian was already seated, a glass of deep crimson wine in hand, idly picking at an assortment of fruits and smoked hams.

‘You look lovely,’ he remarked the moment she entered, his voice smooth, effortless.

Alina let her attendants guide her into the chair opposite him, the sheer expanse of the table and her trailing veil making conversation feel almost absurd. How was she meant to forge any semblance of intimacy with a man she barely knew, when even their seating arrangements felt like a negotiation?

She hesitated before asking, ‘Are you nervous?’ Immediately, she chastised herself for the question—too personal, too revealing.

Zahian chuckled, seemingly amused by her attempt at small talk. ‘It is quite alright, princess. Of course I am nervous. I am to marry the Fire Princess, the most beautiful drakonian to have ever lived. Any man would be nervous, do you not think?’

Alina tilted her head slightly, considering. ‘I am not a man,’ she mused, her tone dry. ‘Therefore, apparently, I do notthink.’

His laughter was light, a pleasant sound that echoed softly between them. ‘Princess, in my kingdom, phoenixian women would not agree with such a statement.’

That, at least, was something to be glad for. But the brief warmth of his words did little to chase away the shadows in her mind. Against her better judgment, she stole a glance through the balcony doors, her gaze trailing towards the horizon where the distant floating island of the valkyrians sat suspended in mist. She wondered if Kai was thinking of her at all. If he remembered what day it was. If he cared. Or had she faded from his thoughts as easily as a candle extinguished by the wind?

She pushed the ache down.Soon. Soon, she would carve her own path, fight for her own destiny.

Zahian’s voice pulled her back. ‘Are you feeling well?’

Alina nodded before realising her veil likely concealed the movement. ‘Yes, just tired.’ She turned towards a nearby servant, intending to request tea, but none of them moved. They stood unnaturally still, their backs straight as statues, their eyes vacant.

A strange prickle crawled up Alina’s spine.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, but silence was her only answer.

Unease slithered into her gut. She turned to Zahian, intent on asking if he had noticed the servants’ odd behavior, but before she could, the heavy doors swung open, and Hagan stepped inside.

Alina barely contained her groan of frustration. Of all nights, did he truly have to linger like an unwanted shadow?

She pointedly ignored him, flicking her fingers in an attempt to beckon a different servant. Again, none of them moved.

‘They won’t answer you,’ Hagan said.

Alina stiffened. ‘Why not?’

Hagan’s expression did not change. ‘Because they are under a spell.’

Something inside her went cold. ‘A spell?’

‘They can see and hear everything happening,’ he continued, stepping forward leisurely, ‘but they cannot move a single inch of their bodies.’

Zahian shot to his feet, the back of his chair scraping harshly against the stone. The tension in the room thickened, coiling around them like a serpent.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Zahian demanded.

Hagan exhaled sharply, as though already growing impatient. His features twisted, irritation burning in his gaze. ‘Oh, do shut up.’

And then greensmoke curled from his fingers.

Before Alina could react, an invisible force struck Zahian, slamming him back into his chair, which had already been lifted upright by unseen hands. His breath left him in a strangled gasp.

Alina surged to her feet, hands trembling with restrained fury. ‘Do not dare harm him, Hagan.’

The Red Guard cocked his head, bemusement fluttering across his face. ‘Or what?’

The mocking in his tone was unbearable. Alina’s mind raced for a plan, some means of escape, but the crushing weight of her gown, the tightness of her corset—everything about her attire had been designed for beauty, not for battle. Even if she bolted for the door, she would never make it in time.

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