Chapter 3
Leaf
King Azarn’s throne room had the claustrophobic atmosphere of a tomb. High windows granted entry to the late-morning sunshine, and flames glowed from inside long channels set into the marble floor, neither light sources strong enough to chase the shadows from the farthest corners of the hall.
As Esen shoved me though the enormous, open double doors, an ogre’s voice boomed out, introducing me to the fire courtiers. “Fae of Taln, I present Zali Omala of the Earth Realm, the outlaw princess of Mydorian, and King Azarn’s valued guest.”
A hushed silence resonated, followed by hundreds of whispers.
Esen grinned at Raiden, both flanking me as they pushed me down a center aisle toward an oval, black-stone dais, where five fae perched on tall, narrow thrones, King Azarn on the largest, most ornate.
When we reached the bottom of the dais stairs, Esen pulled me to a halt. The king’s spine straightened as he waved a ringed hand at me. “Zali Omala, you may approach.”
With careful footsteps, I mounted twenty stairs, stopping in front of the king, my gaze not once leaving his. The scent of smoldering wood from his crown mixed with a heady perfume of frankincense assaulted my senses, the combination not entirely unpleasant.
“Welcome to the Sun Realm, Princess,” he said, his body draped in black and the crown of dark flames licking his brow.
I cleared my throat. “I can’t truthfully say it’s a pleasure to be here, King Azarn.”
Seated on his right, a striking female drew a sharp breath, as if shocked by my words. She wore a gown of soft folds of silver that shone like liquid starlight, her long black hair framing eyes of palest blue. In appearance, she was the Fire King’s opposite, and if she turned out to be his queen, then I prayed the same could be said of her character.
I’d taken an instant dislike to Azarn, and I certainly didn’t trust him. It would be some comfort if his lady partner was blessed with an entirely different nature.
“This is my wife,” he said coldly, “Queen Estella, from the Crystal Realm of Night and Stars. Do you know of that kingdom?”
“Yes. I may be human, but I’m not a fool. And I happen to be in possession of all my memories again.”
The queen inclined her head in greeting, and I returned the gesture, matching her somber expression. She pointed to the fae sitting on the other side of her husband. “Princess Zali, this is our son, Prince Bakhur.”
The male rose in a flurry of silver-and-black material, bowed, and gave me a charming smile. He was predictably tall, his body well-shaped, and loose brown curls flopped over gold-flecked, hazel eyes that, unfortunately, reminded me of a gold addict’s over-confident gaze.
With a subtle leer adorning his handsome face, he linked his hands behind his back, walked forward, and paced a tight circle around me. “You will do,” he said.
My heart stuttered, then pumped double time. “What precisely will I do for, Prince Bakhur?”
Ignoring my question, he turned toward the female fae seated beside the queen. “These are my aunts, the king’s sisters, Marcella and Ruhh. Ruhh is deceased, of course,” he said, as if the sight of her browning bones, visible through a gown that had seen better days, and her mottled, transparent skin was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Oh, of course,” I agreed, as though I too had a rotting specter as a valued member of my family. Then an icy shiver ran down my spine as I imagined Quin as my undead companion. I certainly wouldn’t give him leave to sit beside me on the Mydorian dais, the way Azarn did with Ruhh.
The , Marcella, leaned forward, rust-colored hair trailing over her emerald gown, and gave me a benign smile. Just as Sindar the sailor had said weeks ago, when he cursed the fire family on Captain Loligos’s ship, her eyes were indeed a bright orange color.
And perhaps, once, the dead girl’s had been, too, but with all shades other than white and brown leeched from her body, only malice remained simmering in her staring, translucent eyes.
By mortal standards, the prince and his living aunt, like most fae, appeared to dwell in the rosy bloom of youth, but I couldn’t begin to guess how old the ghost-fae had been when she’d passed away. But if Arrow had something to do with it, as Esen had suggested, I planned to learn everything I could about her.
Ignoring the prince, who hovered close by, I turned my attention to the king. “Please tell me why I’ve been arrested. What crime have I been accused of?”
“You murdered the Regent of the Earth Realm, your brother Quin Omala, who the Sun Realm recognized as the rightful Mydorian heir.”
“For the time being, we’ll have to disagree about who should wear the Mydorian crown, but when your mage captured me, he said I was under arrest by the order of Arrowyn Ramiel. Was he lying?”
Laughter rumbled through the courtiers that I hadn’t yet had the courage to inspect. I knew what I’d see if I did. Cold glares, filled with hungry fascination for the strange, weak human. No friendly, reassuring smiles waited for me on the sea of faces below the dais.
The Fire King snarled. “When Arrowyn destroyed my blacksmith, Gorbinvar, in Bonerust, he broke a centuries-old treaty between our realms, then bartered with your life to avoid war. From that moment on, you were destined to live or die at the whim of my court.”
Estella opened her mouth as if to interrupt, but Azarn gripped her clenched fist and pressed her knuckles against the armrest of her chair, indicating there was more to the tale than the Fire King was willing to share.
He released his wife’s hand. “But when I learned the identity of Arrowyn’s prized slave, I saw an opportunity. Your death would be a waste when your life could bring me many advantages. But even so, he must—” The king broke off as if he’d said too much, then steepled his hands in contemplation. “Still, you are a murderer of your own blood and must be punished for your vile crime. Fortunately for you, I am a man who enjoys gambling with fate, especially someone else’s. So…”
He trailed off again, his focus shifting to his dead sister, Ruhh, who floated two feet off the ground behind the queen, her gaze still boring through me.
“And so?” I asked into the growing silence. “What were you about to tell me?”
“You have a choice to make, Zali of the Earth Realm. Complete a few tasks of my choosing for our amusement and the chance to marry my son. Or be put to death before the morning turns to noon.”
A laugh burst out of me. “Marry your son? But that’s ridiculous. Surely you’re joking.”
He blinked, his expression blank. “No. I’m as serious as the blade that will soon cleave your head from your neck if you choose the option to die instead of compete.”
Compete? Who or what would I be competing with?
“Why do you want your son tied to a human? We have no magic. No great power. And you just accused me of a terrible crime. I can’t believe you’d want me for a daughter.”
He laughed, indicating Ruhh. “Why not? I lack one of my sisters. And you share a bloodline with the gold makers. Your kingdom, if I can call Mydorian that, is aligned with the reaver elves. If I am related by marriage to their precious Earth Realm queen, then I can help you control the gold.”
“So this is about wealth and greed? How predictable. How dull.”
“And don’t forget power,” he added. “ Everything in the Five Realms is about power.”
“Perhaps for the kings, who obsess over destroying what they cannot own. But I’m more concerned with maintaining peace and balance. Your plans disgust me.”
“Are you refusing my offer, then?” he asked, dropping his head back against the throne and staring through hooded eyes. “My courtiers will be sorely disappointed. They adore competitions, and I do love to please them.”
Cheers erupted below the dais, confirming the fire fae’s enthusiasm.
Nausea churned my stomach, my mind racing. If there was any way to survive, then I had to at least try, which meant I’d have to complete tasks for the fire fae’s entertainment. And if living meant I’d end up married to the prince—a wholly repulsive idea—then as his wife, I could at least wait for an opportunity to kill him, escape, find Arrow. And then end him, too.
I raised my chained hands, pushing unruly hair behind my ears, then lifted my chin. “And if I agree, what kind of tasks must I complete and how many?”
Azarn smiled, excitement sparking in his green eyes. “Three entertainments of my choosing. You will learn the details prior to their commencement.”
“If I have no clue what I’ll be facing, I won’t have time to prepare.”
“Precisely,” answered Prince Bakhur. “That’s the idea, you see.”
“Do you want an Earth Realm bride or not?” I snapped. “If I die here, the reavers certainly won’t work with you. So what’s the point?”
“If there is no living Mydorian heir, we will simply find another method to ensure the elves’ cooperation.” Bakhur lurched forward, strong fingers pinching my chin as his gaze flicked over my face. “Either way, the Sun Realm wins.”
I shoved his hand away and paced along the edge of the dais, ignoring the snickering courtiers below. Dying today simply wasn’t an option, so my choice was made. I would compete to marry the Fire Prince.
I stopped before the throne, clasping my chained hands tightly in front of me, striving for calm. “If I agree to amuse you, King Azarn, are you willing to vow that you and any member of your court will not harm or assault me in any way until either I win or am defeated?”
Fire danced in his eyes. “Yes, I can promise you no harm will come to you until you’re defeated. Now return to your chambers. I’m considering whether your first event might be our post-dinner entertainment tonight or perhaps the following night, so don’t get too comfortable.”
Willing my legs not to shake, I bowed my head, and then began to turn away. “One more thing,” I said, whirling to face Azarn again. “Did the Storm King agree you could bring me here?”
He looked at his coat and flicked a speck of something off the fine material. “Yes. And I’ve already sent word to Coridon that you have arrived safely and invited Arrowyn to join us. I’m certain he’ll wish to witness the festivities.”
The festivities. How cruel fae were.
“Yes,” I said calmly. “I’m sure he would.”
I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Arrow, but even so, sickening heat infused my blood, excitement, I guessed—knowing I’d soon have a chance to slit his double-crossing throat.
I nodded at Raiden and Esen who stood behind me. “And these two, why keep traitors to their own kingdom by your side? Aren’t you afraid they’ll betray you, too?”
“I have mages to dampen the magic of other realms, allowing us to exert control over them. For example, I’m sure you’ve realized you cannot use your reaver cloak in Taln. And besides, I believe in keeping the distrusted close. Esen, in particular, is akin to a disfavored hound, eager to please whichever master tosses her the juiciest scraps of meat.”
Esen flinched at his words, then straightened her spine.
What Azarn said rang true. Esen had always been ruthless, putting her own interests above all else. But no matter how I tried to frame it, I couldn’t accept Raiden’s presence in the Fire Court as easily as I did hers.
I caught Raiden’s gaze. “How did you masquerade as Arrowyn’s dearest friend for all those years? Do Stormur and Ildri know about your defection to the Fire Court? If so, they must be heartbroken and ashamed.”
Brown eyes stared at the two Fire Princesses on the dais, not even flickering as he ignored my question.
“Enough prattle,” said Azarn. “Return to your room and the comforts I’ve generously provided. You will need your energy if you hope to survive the first event.”
My chains clanked as I shifted my weight but said nothing.
The king leaned forward, raising a brow. “Considering the circumstances, have I not shown you great kindness, Zali Omala? Can you not thank me for this service?”
I wouldn’t thank him for one damn thing, comfortable room or not.
And great kindness was overstating the situation. Were all fae kings so delusional about themselves? Arrow certainly had been.
Damn. Not Arrow again. When it came to him, I refused to think of anything but his destruction. How pleasurable, how deeply satisfying it would feel, to punch his smug face many times over.
Esen tugged the chain between my wrists and hauled me down the dais steps. At the bottom, I looked over my shoulder. The queen and her son stared back. Marcella stuffed dates into her mouth, and the ghost girl—Ruhh—glared at me with evil intent.
Melaya and his twin stood off to the side behind the royal family, a fire pit burning between them. The unnamed twin’s face was calm and blank, and no flames burned in his dark gaze.
As we exited the hall, I nudged Esen. “Is Melaya’s twin as powerful as he is? He looks constipated, ineffective.”
A quick glance passed between Raiden and Esen. “Nukala?” she said. “He is essential.”
We climbed the tower steps that led to my room.
“Can the dead girl interact physically?” I asked.
“You want to know if she could pick up a fork and stab you in the neck?” asked Esen. “At certain times, yes. But her… condition waxes and wanes.”
I snorted at the memory of my attack on the Fire Court’s envoy back in Coridon as Esen unsheathed a small knife, digging it in my side. “No more questions.”
On the threshold of my prison, I gripped Esen’s arm. “Wait. I know you’re in a bad mood.” I gave a meaningful look to the blade in her hand. “But I have one more question. Why do you let him talk to you like that?”
“Who?” she said, pretending ignorance.
“The Fire King. For all you’ve done for him, spying in Coridon, capturing me, he doesn’t treat you very well.”
“Better than the Storm King did.”
“How so? From what I saw, Arrow loved you and appreciated your strengths.”
“My strengths!” She snorted. “And what are they?”
“You’re a powerful female, smart and unmoved by emotions. An impressive warrior and an awe-inspiring lightning wielder.”
Blinking fast, she stared at me, her mouth moving as if forming words of thanks, but then her expression shuttered, and she pushed me backward into the tower room. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“It’s not flattery. It’s the truth.”
The door began to close.
“Wait a moment.” I pushed against a panel of wood. “When can I see Luna?”
A scowl creased her lovely face. “A prisoner is in no position to make demands.”
“It was a request.”
“Get in your room, human, and stop bothering me,” she said. “I’ve had more than enough of you.”
“How long until this so-called entertainment starts? Azarn said it might happen after dinner. What time does the court eat? And what am I meant to do while I wait?”
“I don’t know.” She pointed at the rolls of parchment and clay jars on the desk. “Write sad poetry about how mean the Storm King was to you. Play the board game by the fire.”
A checkered board sat on a table, a cluster of silver and gold pyramids piled off to the side. “I don’t know the rules. Will you teach me?” I asked as she unfastened my wrists and fixed the chain to her belt.
“I have duties.”
“Perhaps when you’ve completed them you’ll return.”
“I don’t think so.” A wry smile teasing her lips, she shut the door in my face, and then locked it.
As the sun cast a ring of orange light around the tower room, I spun in a circle, my arms outstretched to release tension, stopping when I noticed a gown of dark leather and lace spread over the bedcovers.
Did the Fire King expect me to wear a dress for the first event? If so, he really did think me stupid.
A fire crackled in a small hearth, and I inspected the dress by its strange purple light, my fingers trailing delicate panels of black lace. It was lovely but would greatly restrict my movements. And unless the first event was a dance competition, I couldn’t expect to perform well in it.
I smoothed my palms over the dirty leathers I wore, and then hurried to run the bath. After stripping, I sank into the tub and tried to relax.
My thoughts raced as I wondered what trials awaited me. Would Azarn test my courage with torture? Challenge my wit with riddles? Or was he only interested in what I could do with a sword?
Perhaps he hoped I would die fast, and then robbed of the Storm King’s tribute, he’d have an excuse to attack Coridon or Auryinnia.
After bathing, I gazed at my reflection in the dresser’s mirror and decided what I must do. Wasting no time, I tugged on a dark tunic with delicate crimson embroidery I’d found in the closet, wiped down my leathers with soapy water and set them out to dry. Then, I started training.
The semi-circular chamber was just big enough for me to move through fighting patterns, so after I stretched my limbs, I practiced in earnest, enjoying the familiar burn of muscles.
Whatever happened tonight or tomorrow, I would embrace the challenge and face it head-on. I wasn’t a quitter. Descended from a line of queens, I had people to protect, a land to care for. A brother who needed me. I would survive. There was no other choice.
I picked up the black gown and walked to the window, then flung it through the bars, watching the garment twirl down, down, down before it splayed over the rocks. Mesmerized, I imagined it was my broken body down there, as limp and lifeless as an unwanted dress.
Azarn might very well punish me for not wearing the gown during the first of his so-called festivities , but I didn’t care.
No fae king would tell me what to wear and have me meekly obey.
Ever again, if I could help it.