Page 45 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

Ash pulled his golden armour from his frame with a sigh, his movements unhurried, as if shedding not just metal, but the weight of something unseen. His shirt followed, slipping over his head to reveal lean muscle carved from years of training. Then, without hesitation, he stepped into the water, sinking into its depths with a slow exhale. His face—always sharp with scrutiny, always hardened with arrogance—softened. For the first time, he looked at peace.

Mal found herself momentarily stunned. This was not the same man who had sneered at her in the hall, who had regarded her with irritation and veiled mockery. The tension that always lined his features had melted away, leaving something she hadn’t expected.

Serenity.

The sound of a door opening broke her thoughts.

Another figure entered.Hagan. The Red Guard made no move to join the prince in the pool. Instead, he climbed onto one of the higher rocks, his red robes untouched, his presence looming as he settled into place.

Mal remained hidden, watching.

Waiting.

‘The feast is not yet over,’ Hagan remarked, his voice a low rumble in the dimly lit cavern. ‘Your mother will not be pleased to find you hiding away.’

The prince merely closed his eyes, letting the steam curl around his face as he rested his head against the smooth stone edge of the hot springs. ‘Not hiding. Just tired.’ His voice was sluggish, weighed down by something heavier than exhaustion.

Hagan snorted, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Your mother noticed the way the wyverian princess stormed off during your dance.’ He leaned against a carved pillar, watching the rippling water. ‘Care to explain?’

Ash exhaled, the sound almost lost in the gentle hiss of the springs. ‘She’s annoying.’

From the shadows beyond the mist, Mal tensed.

Hagan let out a sharp laugh. ‘Of course she’s annoying. She’s a princess. What did you expect?’

Ash shifted slightly, his fingers trailing absently through the water. ‘I…’ He hesitated, the words reluctant to leave his mouth, as if saying them aloud would solidify the chains already tightening around his throat. ‘I… have t-to marryher.’ He said it with such unfiltered loathing, his voice curling with revulsion as though even the thought of her was too distasteful to bear. He could hardly stitch together a sentence in her presence, the weight of his disgust rendering his words brittle.

Mal felt her heart clench, a slow and merciless squeeze of sorrow. She had known—oh, she had known—what she wasagreeing to when she accepted this wretched marriage, had steeled herself for its cold, transactional nature. And yet… hearing him struggle to accept even the mere thought of her, when he had never so much as tried to know her, was a cruelty she hadn’t braced for. He hadn’t even bothered.

A storm brewed within her, rage twisting in the pit of her stomach, coiling tighter and tighter like a cyclone waiting to be unleashed. If she opened her mouth now, she feared it would tear through the room, leveling everything in its path. What had she expected? The Fire Prince’s reputation was a thing of dark legend, whispered in corners and carried on fearful tongues. She had prepared herself to meet a monster, yet when she’d first laid eyes on him, she had seen only a man—one without scales or claws, without the grotesque visage she had envisioned. And now? Now she wasn’t so sure.

‘It could be worse, Ash. She’s at least tolerable to look at.’

The prince said nothing.

Mal’s fingers curled into the jagged edge of the rock she clung to, her knuckles white with restraint. Did he find her hideous? The answer shouldn’t have mattered—shouldn’t have wormed its way beneath her skin—but it did. And the longer she held onto the thought, the stronger the temptation grew to drop down into the water below and send a scalding splash right into his arrogant face.

‘You just have to survive a week,’ Hagan continued, his voice smooth and unbothered. ‘Once the week is up and you’ve married, you can ignore her for the rest of your life. You’ll just have to endure her presence at formal events.’

So that was his grand plan. Marry her to appease the kingdoms, then cast her aside like an unwanted trinket. Tuck her away in some forgotten wing of the castle, gathering dust like an abandoned relic. The very thought made her blood burnhotter than the springs around her. Mal clenched her teeth, fury simmering beneath the surface. She had spent her entire life on the fringes, a living question mark, met with wary stares and hushed whispers because of her eyes—because of what her birth had signified. Now, at last, she had been given a chance to rewrite her fate, and she would be damned if she let some self-important Fire Prince treat her as if she were nothing.

Not that it mattered.

In one week, the prince would wed her and then erase her from his life.

In one week, she would wed the prince and drive a blade straight into his heart, shattering the curse that bound them together.

From the shadows, a slow smile curled her lips, sharp as the dagger she would soon wield.

…

A gentle breeze curled through the night, carrying the lingering heat of the day like the breath of a slumbering dragon. The air was thick with warmth, wrapping around the world in a soft embrace, coaxing the land into a state of quiet repose. High above, two dragons soared effortlessly over the castle, their wings carving through the air, indifferent to the balmy night.

Alina knew she would be caught—there was no question of that. The consequences were already carved in stone. She would be locked away, confined to her gilded cage, denied the simple freedoms others took for granted. No more dances beneath candlelit chandeliers, no more stolen laughter at grand festivities. The mere thought of it made her tighten her grip on the reins, urging her dragon ever higher, higher, until the wind screamed past her ears. There was a wild, untamed power in flying—an intoxicating freedom that made her heart race indefiance.

The wyverian prince, however, refused such human frivolities as saddles. His people rode without them, bare-backed, as though woven from the very wind itself. The thought sent a shudder through Alina. No reins, no straps—nothing to tether them to their beast. It was chaos incarnate, and the idea of it unsettled her to her very core. What if the wyvern twisted suddenly, tilting to the side in one violent motion? What then? A saddle was security, a safeguard, a promise that the sky would not simply swallow a rider whole.

At last, when both dragons reached the pinnacle of their ascent, their powerful wings leveling into a slow, steady rhythm, Alina looked down at her kingdom—really, truly looked at it—for the very first time. How strange it was, to see her world from above when she had only ever been allowed to observe it through windows, framed by stone walls meant to keep her in. She inhaled deeply, the night air crisp and untainted.

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