Page 40 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

The world around them faded. The murmuring court, the grand hall, the music—it all fell away, leaving only the two of them standing in the silence. Ash fought the urge to glance at her body, at the way the fabric of her dress clung to her form, revealing far more than any drakonian noblewoman would dare to expose. But it wasn’t a gentlemanly thing to do. So instead, heforced his gaze to remain on her face.

When she placed her hand in his, the contrast was startling. Her skin was cold, ice against the warmth of his own. She flinched, clearly unprepared for the heat that radiated from him. That small reaction amused him.

Slowly, he led her to the centre of the room.

The music started. Too soon. It was not yet time. Tradition dictated that guests first approach the king and queen before the dancing began. But Ash had not been thinking of customs when he reached for her—had not thought of anything at all. Something had compelled him, a force unseen, an impulse that had driven him to hold her, to touch her.

His free hand rested on her waist.

Her bare waist.

Her eyes flashed with warning.Do anything improper, and I will have your throat slit.He had no doubt she meant it. Yet the moment they began to move, she followed his lead with effortless grace. It was as though she had danced to this very song a thousand times before.

‘I’m surprised women are allowed to dance,’ she said as they swayed through the room, her voice laced with something unreadable. ‘Considering they are not allowed to fight.’

Ash wanted to respond. Truly, he did. But the words tangled in his throat, caught on the fear that he might stutter. What would she think of him then? She would find out eventually—if they were to be married, there was no hiding it forever. Then again, many noble marriages survived on silence, on cold dinners where little more than pleasantries were exchanged.

Perhaps theirs would be the same.

Perhaps he would spend the rest of his life in quiet submission, never daring to speak in her presence.

‘I would like to see the grounds,’ she continued, as though speaking to herself. ‘My wyverns will be left loose, andI must ensure they have enough hunting ground. They are not accustomed to remaining in one place for too long. They are wild creatures.’

Like you,Ash thought.

‘Are you incapable of speaking, or do you remain silent just to annoy me?’

Ash couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. He swallowed a chuckle.

The princess abruptly pulled away. Her eyes burnt with something close to hatred. The music continued, but all around them, the court watched with bated breath. Some, sensing the tension, stepped forward onto the dance floor in an attempt to ease the prince’s embarrassment. But Ash and the princess remained frozen in place, locked in a silent battle of wills.

‘We are to be married in a week,’ Mal said coldly, her voice sharp as steel. ‘You may not like it. I certainly do not. But it is for the benefit of our kingdoms. The least you could do is answer my questions, prince.’

‘Demands,’ Ash corrected.

Her brows furrowed. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You do not ask questions.’Ash forced himself to ignore the dozens of eyes fixed upon them. ‘You make demands.’

Her expression darkened with fury.

For a moment, he thought she might slap him. Instead, she drew a sharp breath, exhaled through her nose, and muttered, ‘Good night, Fire Prince.’ Then she turned on her heel, her long black hair whipping against his face as she strode away.

Ash stood there, watching as his future bride disappeared into the parting crowd.

And he couldn’t help but smile.

Hadrian wanted me to ride on his wyvern for the very first time. I have told him on countless occasions that we witches do not travel by such means. He says that it is for fun. I am not scared, if I fall off I shall use my magic. But the enormous beast stares at me sometimes as if it could somehow understand me. As if it knew that my hands shake slightly at its mere presence and it enjoys inflicting such an emotion on me. I will never understand wyverians and their love for these foul creatures.

Tabitha Wysteria

Mal spent the rest of the evening drowning in irritation, her body taut with frustration at the Fire Prince’s arrogance. His devilish smirk haunted her, a silent mockery that infuriated her more than if he had spoken outright. He had refused to answer her questions, had toyed with her patience as though she were some game for his amusement. The thought of being shackled to such a man, of enduring a lifetime bound to his silence, made her stomach twist in revulsion.

But in the end, it did not matter.

She would marry him.

And then she would kill him.

---