King of Fire and Flames (Courts of the Star Fae Realms #2)

Chapter 7

Leaf

The first stupid thing I did was wonder if the Storm King had ever called me Princess Zali before, and the second was allow a flash of longing to flow through my veins.

Why did the mere sight of Arrowyn Ramiel make my body betray my mind?

My nerve endings foolishly recalled every sigh of pleasure his touch had wrung from me. My bones, flesh, and skin didn’t care that the male with his eyes locked on mine was the realms’ greatest liar. A brazen deceiver, who’d turned out to be as despicable as I’d predicted when I first laid eyes on him from inside the slaver’s cage at Farron Gilt Market.

In some cruel twist of fate, he appeared even more beautiful since I saw him in Mydorian a few weeks ago, and that made me furious. How dare a monster look so good.

A cold expression adorned his face, a pitiless smirk on his lips. An aura of supreme confidence surrounded him, like a trap, a forcefield of shimmering corruption, and my Aldara mark thrummed in blind, ridiculous appreciation.

Tonight, tight dark leathers hugged his long legs, shining metal caps strapped over his knees. As was his habit, he had left the ridged muscles of his stomach bare, his chest covered by the lethal plate of gold feathers. Other than his favorite feather ear cuffs, his head bore no crown or other kingly adornment.

I hated him, but adored every inch of his appearance. If a breathtaking, winged god rose from the hell realms to destroy Taln, it would no doubt look exactly like him.

He pushed the dark material of his cloak behind his broad shoulders, so it hung between the purple-black wings tucked close to his body, the thick hem falling against his calves.

The garment’s glinting feathers seemed to mock me, reminding me it was an exact match for the one he’d covered me in after he stripped me naked and threw me in the river on the day we met. The one he gave me before leaving me alone in Mydorian. Before betraying me.

“ Promise you’ll take care of yourself ,” he’d said, wrapping it around my shoulders in the forest. “ Keep this, then I’ll always be able to keep you warm .”

Fucking liar. As if he gave a shit about my comfort. His love was a cruel pretense. An elaborate ruse to make me compliant, so he could use me as leverage with the Sun Realm.

Memories tumbled over me of the many times I’d pleaded for his touch, his bite, his love. But no more. Never again would I sink so low as to beg for scraps of attention from my abuser.

“Arrow,” the king’s ghostly sister cried out, excitement thrumming in her airy voice. “You came.”

The Storm King smiled at Ruhh, his skin paling slightly. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss the festivities for all the gold in my realm.”

The other sister, Marcella, guided Ruhh back to her seat, soothing her into silence as they went.

Two fae stepped out of the crowd and joined Arrow—Raiden and a younger male I’d never seen before. Wait… Raiden? How was that possible? Only a moment ago, he’d been standing on the left side of the royal family.

My gaze shot to the dais. There he was, standing straight-backed and dressed in Sun Realm armor, just like before. I blinked, and in his place, stood a fire fae with short black hair and a neatly clipped beard.

What in the dust was going on?

I whipped around to face Arrow and found Raiden and the young human male still standing beside him. Instead of the black and red Fire Court armor, Raiden wore dusty leathers and a dirt-flecked cloak. He braced a hand on his hip, lips twitching, fighting a smile.

What the fuck?

I glanced at Esen. She hadn’t changed and still wore Sun Realm armor, her gaze focused on the floor and cheeks stained red as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

The truth hit me like an anvil to the back of my skull.

I’d been tricked.

A fire fae must’ve used transformational magic and stolen Raiden’s image, impersonating him. But why?

The female fae who had guarded me over the last couple of days was authentic, often speaking of things that only the real Esen could possibly have known. But Raiden had barely said a word, and when he did, he’d sounded odd. Wrong. How had I been so stupid not to guess it wasn’t him?

And what was the purpose of the Sun Realm pretending Raiden had defected to the Fire Court? Nothing in this scenario made sense.

Queen Estella rose and glided down the dais steps to greet Arrow. Linking her arm through his, she guided him up toward Azarn’s throne, a ripple of midnight hair and an indigo gown studded with metallic stars flowing behind her.

“Is Estella a friend of Arrow’s?” I whispered to Esen.

“She’s a strange one. As cold and distant as the stars, except with him, for some reason.”

I wanted to ask about the Raiden impostor, but bit my tongue and strained my ears to hear the conversation between Azarn and Arrow, hoping to glean useful information.

The young male who had arrived with the Storm Court party hadn’t moved from the bottom step of the dais, his black curls framing a lean, handsome face, solemn eyes studying me. There was something familiar about him. The way he stood, loose-limbed, but alert. The strong line of his nose. The fact I couldn’t place him bothered me greatly.

“You wasted no time in getting here, Arrowyn,” Azarn said. “Meet any gold raiders on the journey?”

“We dispatched a small crew. And of course I hurried to Taln after hearing of your plans for the human girl.”

Azarn chuckled. “I thought they would appeal to you. No regrets in giving her up? By all reports, the girl was your favorite bed slave.”

Arrow shrugged a shoulder. “She had her uses. But after a while, all objects lose their shine.”

An object, was I? And the human girl .

What an utter prick.

I pictured his deceitful head falling from his neck and splattering on the marble. I imagined stomping on it, turning his flesh to mush, just like I’d done to Dorn.

Prince Bakhur rose from his chair, swaggered over to the Storm King, and bowed.

“Bakhur.” Arrow barely inclined his head. “Apparently, you’re about to dance with my ex-servant. Brave of you.”

“Oh, why is that?” asked the Fire Prince.

“As small and innocent as she looks, she’s far from a sweet, little kitten,” Arrow rumbled, his gaze fixed on me. “If you wish to keep your eyes, I suggest you watch out for her claws.”

“Duly noted,” said the prince as he started down the dais stairs.

“Wait,” boomed his father, casting a sly look at Arrow. “I believe I would be better entertained if the King of Storms and Feathers danced with his murderous ex-slave. What do my courtiers think of the proposal?”

“Brother, please, no,” whined Ruhh as the courtiers’ shouts drowned out any further objections.

A dirge of music rose from musicians placed somewhere in the crowd—the drums slow but urgent, the strings a caterwaul of twisted paranoia. A perfect melody for a bitter reunion.

An atmosphere of violence surrounded Arrow’s powerful frame as he strode down the stairs, stopping right in front of me. He ignored Esen beside me, who made a clumsy bow and backed away, leaving us to stare at each other with mirrored poses. Jaws clenched, fists balled, and hearts closed.

So… finally, here he was in front of me. My glorious, golden nemesis only four feet away. The fae who had ruined my life at least twice over. Oh, how I wished he had left me caged at the gilt market, saving me from endless heartache and pain.

But, no. Assholes have to asshole.

If only I still held the sword that mangled Dorn, I could end Arrow right here. Right now. I scanned his body for weapons, and other than the stupid feather breastplate, saw none.

With two large steps, he closed the distance between us and more, nearly knocking me off my feet. A dark-gold eyebrow quirked in either amusement or concern. Perhaps he was afraid of what I might do to him in front of the fire fae.

He was right to worry. Wrong to find it funny. Because, at last, I could touch him, spit on him, then scratch his pretty eyes out. I leaned forward, my fingers forming claws, but then the heat of King Azarn’s glare burned between my shoulder blades. Revenge would have to wait for a more private occasion.

A brittle silence stretched between us, a chasm between each pounding heartbeat to the next as we stared, neither one prepared to look away first.

Arrow made a strained noise. A throat clearance or a grunt of discomfort. I kept my breathing steady. Forced my pulse to flow like treacle through my veins. Slow and calm.

Unbothered queen , I told myself—or almost -queen. That’s what I was. Unruffled. Unaffected. Unmoved by rippling muscles and body heat like an inferno.

“Shall we dance?” he said, his low voice scraping my skin like evening stubble.

A big palm came to rest on my hip, the fingers of his other hand entwining with mine. I cupped his shoulder, each dip and curve of bone and muscle so familiar. So real. His skin was too warm and his pulse rapid beneath it.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance. When would he learn to dress for an occasion and stop swanning around half-naked, like an adolescent who’d suddenly realized he’d been blessed with a physique to make the gods drool?

With a gentle push of his palm into the base of my spine, our bodies slid together, my breath seizing in my lungs, heart fluttering, trapped against the cage of my ribs.

His stormy scent overwhelmed me—a bite of cold air before it rained, cloves, and a hint of the wine he’d had with his dinner. I did my best to forestall them, but unwanted memories rushed over me.

The way the Storm King had questioned me—a new servant—in the kitchen at Coridon, demanding to know about the home I had no memory of. The intensity burning in his gaze that night, possessive and commanding even then.

The guards who assaulted me, and then suffered gruesome deaths by the same hands that now heated my flesh.

The first time his lips touched mine.

The soaring gold columns of my pavilion.

His crescent-moon bedchamber.

All the lies he had told me.

We began to move, and coherent thoughts dissolved—even the murderous ones.

We danced a meandering, unsteady waltz, my body shaking to the rhythm of his ragged breaths.

Dark lashes glittered with gold paint as he stared down at my mouth. Then his gaze lifted, the heat in his silver irises shocking me into missing a step and stumbling, scorching my heart, causing terrible pain. And still, I couldn’t look away.

Let him stare and attempt to fry my insides if he wished. He would never make me cower.

The murmurs of the fire courtiers grazed my skin as we danced past, their whispers describing the gruesome things they hoped Arrow would do to me. But other than stare in silence, the Storm King did nothing.

I almost asked him about Raiden and the fire fae’s transformation, but then vowed to keep my mouth shut. It was best if my enemies thought me clueless to their tricks, no matter how obvious they were.

For a whole turn of the hall, I said nothing, then of its own accord, my mouth opened. “Well, did you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked.

“Betray me. Sell me to Azarn.”

Fake outrage twisted his expression. “Your question suggests there’s a chance you believe I might not have.”

Lost for words at his flippancy, I stared. First at his traitor’s eyes, then his liar’s mouth.

He sighed. “Your faith in me was always a fragile thing.”

“So what’s your answer? This time, don’t speak in riddles.”

“In truth, I’m so fucking mad right now, I don’t care what you believe.”

“Oh, I promise you’ll care one day,” I said. “When I decide to make you pay.”