Page 24 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

‘Most definitely not,’ Kai answered without hesitation. ‘I have no desire to spend the evening sick in bed.’

Mal huffed. ‘I have improved!’ She turned expectantly towards the nearby kitchen staff, seeking validation, but they pointedly averted their eyes.

Kai laughed, shaking his head. ‘You, my sweet sister, are gifted inmany things. Baking is not one of them.’ He tapped her nose teasingly, delighting in the way her brow creased in frustration.

‘I will get better,’ she muttered. ‘I just need time.’

Time.

The word lodged itself in his throat like a thorn. There would be no time for her to improve, no more mornings of failed attempts and flour-covered laughter. Soon, she would be gone. A foreign queen in a foreign land, her life dictated by laws and customs they did not understand.

Would they let her into their kitchens? Would they scold her for trying? Would she be kept in gold-trimmed chambers, watched from every angle, stripped of the little freedoms she had always clung to?

Mal must have sensed the shift in his thoughts, for she gave him one of those looks—the kind that said,Stop pitying me. Stop worrying for things that cannot be changed.

‘Let’s take a walk,’ Kai said abruptly.

‘I have to roll the—’ Mal began, but something glinted across her gaze. A quiet resignation. ‘I suppose I can continue later.’

She followed him into the castle gardens, where twilight’s silver fingers stretched over the horizon, catching on the swaying lanterns Haven was stringing from the branches of an ancient tree.

‘Mal.’

‘Please, don’t.’ Her voice was firm, but there was something fragile beneath it. ‘I know you’re upset. But not today. Today, we celebrate. It will be my last party at home, and I wish to enjoy it, brother.’

Kai studied her, unease coiling in his gut like a restless beast. He had spent his entire life watchingover her, protecting her. He wanted to pry open her skull and sift through her thoughts, to hold them up to the light and understand them.

Why was she so willing? Did she do this only for their father? Was it duty that bound her to this path? Or was it something else—something deeper, something she had never spoken aloud?

They all knew Mal was different. Not simply because her purple eyes set her apart, but because of the quiet, undeniable truth lingering beneath her skin. Since childhood, she had been capable of things none of them could explain. They had ignored the signs, willed them into shadows, convincing themselves that if they pretended long enough, no one would see. But the moment she stepped onto the land of fire, there would be no more hiding.

Kai had heard the whispers for years. Travellers from distant lands had come seeking her, wanting to glimpse the wyverian child with witch’s eyes. Some spat at the sight of her, cursing her existence, claiming her birth was a blight upon their world. Others knelt before her, whispering to the gods, calling her their salvation.

A wyverian with magic in her blood.

A weapon for a war that had never truly ended.

Years ago, their father had tired of it all. He had barred the gates, silencing the outside world, keeping Mal locked away behind stone and shadow.

Until now.

‘I asked Bronson to make bird stew,’ Mal said, her voice softer now. ‘I know it’s your favorite.’

Kai clenched his jaw. Such a kind-hearted princess, and yet they would feed her to the dragons. And for what? To mend the sins of their ancestors? To end a century-old feud with a wedding? It was ridiculous.

But the worst part of all—the part that twisted like iron in his gut—was that she had accepted it.

The whispers of witches lingered in the air like an unshaken curse. No matter how many patrols scoured the land, no matter how many torches burnt into the night to root them out, the fear remained. There were those who believed—whoknew—that the witches had never truly been vanquished. That they lay hidden in the shadows, their power coiling beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to rise again. Rumours of war stirred like restless embers, whispered from lips too afraid to give them voice.

But Kai would never tell Mal. Not because he didn’t believe it himself—he did, more than ever—but because he knew the weight of such knowledge. If the world knew what she could do, they would not see a princess; they would see a blade waiting to be wielded.

And somehow, deep within the marrow of his bones, Kai feared that the Kingdom of Fireknew exactlywhat they were doing by taking Mal away.

‘The flowers are blooming,’ Mal said, her fingertips trailing over the silken petals of a Nightrose, its inky blackness rich beneath the fading twilight. She bent forward, inhaling deeply. ‘I wonder if they have Nightrose in the land of fire.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘I’ve heard their flowers, before dying, burst into flames—only to be reborn from their own ashes.’

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