Page 22 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

‘I doubt the prince wants a wyverian bride at all,’ Haven admitted.

Mal waved a dismissive hand. ‘Then he is most unfortunate. He is stuck with me regardless. I am wild and untamed, my feet more accustomed to mud than marble, my arms bruised from battle, my hair free and knotted from flight. I will not apologise for who I am. Not for them.’

Pride flared in Haven’s dark eyes before it vanished, fleeting as the glint of a blade. She moved towards the corner of the room, her fingers grazing the armrest of a small settee. The chamber was warmed by the low-burning fire, yet Mal preferred the cold—the kind that seeped into the bones, a numbing embrace beneath the weight of thick blankets where the world could not touch her.

‘I have always envied you,’ Haven said. The necklace draped about her throat stirred to life, gliding with sinuous grace along the delicate curve of her collarbone, before coiling its way towards her arm. It was Haven’s shadow—no mere ornament, but a serpent cloaked in illusion, often mistaken for an innocuous adornment upon the princess’s regal form. Many were the fools beguiled by its shimmer, blind to the peril it concealed. For that serpent, that whispering shadow, bore a lethality as precise and unforgiving as the edge of a finely-honed blade.

Mal ignored the snake that now observed her with curiosity and frowned. Her sister—the future queen—enviedher?

‘For what?’ she asked, disbelieving.

Haven did not look at her. Instead, she traced a slow path towards the window, her gaze drawn to the red moon risingbeyond the jagged peaks. She absently caressed the shadow-serpent as she spoke, her fingers drifting over its inky form with the ease of long-forged familiarity. Yet Mal could not help but notice the creature’s unblinking gaze—fixed upon her with a quiet intensity, as though it saw far more than it let on.

‘To be fourthborn may seem a curse to you, but to me…’ Haven exhaled, shaking her head. ‘You have lived a life of freedom, Mal. You were never bound to a throne, never shackled by duty. You spent your days training with Kai, your sword nearly an extension of your hand. You lost yourself in the library, devouring tomes with Kage until you both fell asleep among the pages. You were able to choose.’ Her voice was soft, edged with something fragile. ‘I have spent my life preparing to be queen. Every step, every breath, was dictated before I could even speak. I have never been free.’

Mal opened her mouth to argue, to tell her sister how terribly wrong she was. That Mal had never been free, not truly. That she had been a caged thing, too afraid to spread her wings for fear of what they might reveal.

But Haven lifted a hand, silencing her before the words could form.

‘However, dear sister,’ Haven continued, her voice quieter now, heavier, ‘I do not envy you now. Not for what lies ahead. Not for the fate that has been decided by men too old to surrender their pride.’

Mal’s lips curled into a wry smile. ‘I must admit, I do not envy myself either.’

The silence stretched between them, a ghostly thing curling in the air. They both turned towards the bloodstained sky, watching as the night unfurled its dark embrace over their kingdom. In mere days, they would fly beneath that very sky, towards a land unknown.

‘I have heard rumours that the Fire Queen is adelight,’ Haven remarked, voice light with unspoken warning. With a silken hiss, the shadow-serpent recoiled, retreating in a swift, fluid motion to curl itself loosely about Haven’s wrist. There it lay, motionless and poised, its dark form so artfully still that to any onlooker, it might appear nothing more than an ornate bracelet—an accessory of quiet elegance, hiding danger in plain sight.

‘Is she?’ Mal’s smile sharpened. Her fangs glinted in the moon’s glow. ‘Then I suppose we must make an entrance worthy of impressing my future mother-in-law.’

Haven smirked, eyes gleaming. ‘They call us savages,’ she whispered.

Mal’s fingers curled into a fist.

‘Then let us show them what savages are truly capable of.’

The quiet rhythm of footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor, a measured, regal cadence that heralded the arrival of the queen. Draped in her evening gown, jewels glinting like captured stars at her throat and wrists, Queen Senka entered the chamber with the effortless grace of a woman who had long ago mastered the art of commanding attention.

Mal, as always, was woefully underdressed in a simple white cotton gown, her bare feet whispering against the cold stone. The queen’s assessing gaze traced over her daughter, sharp and unimpressed, before she made a soft sound of disapproval.

‘When you live in the Fire Kingdom, you will not be able to waltz around in such dresses, Mal.’

Mal rolled her eyes, exasperation curling at the edges of her breath. ‘Oh, not you too, Mother.’

The queen exchanged a knowing glance with Haven, a secret, mischievous smile passing between them, and Mal’sstomach tightened in foreboding. That look meant she was about to endure one of their tedious lectures, undoubtedly on matters she had no patience for.

Queen Senka moved to the settee where Haven had been lounging and seated herself, her keen gaze sweeping the chamber as though cataloging the imperfections of a child’s untidy room. ‘The fire isn’t strong enough,’ she mused. ‘We ought to strengthen it, or you’ll catch a cold tonight.’

‘Mother,’Mal protested, throwing Haven a pleading look. ‘I prefer the cold.’

‘Yes, I suppose you do.’ The queen’s expression was unreadable, though a flicker of something—sadness, perhaps—crossed her face. ‘Not much good it will do you in that kingdom of fire.’

Haven cleared her throat, clearly eager to shift the conversation. ‘Mother, shall we—?’

‘Dear, I must speak to Mal alone now.’

A silent exchange passed between the sisters. Mal’s fingers darted out, grasping at Haven’s hand, but the future queen merely blew her a teasing kiss before slipping from the chamber, leaving Mal to face their mother alone.

The air grew heavier, thick with unsaid words.

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