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

Chapter 11

Leaf

Azarn couldn’t be serious. He wanted me to fight his wife? His queen ?

Dust, what a royally twisted family. I’d rather die than marry into their fucked-up bloodline.

Estella stalked around the perimeter of the arena, her gown flowing behind her like a triumphant banner, arms raised, rousing the crowd into new heights of ecstasy each time she stabbed the sky with her sword.

Including her in the event meant Azarn didn’t hold much value in her life. Unless he knew for certain she was unbeatable.

And if she was an exceptional fighter, why hadn’t she already sliced her nasty husband’s throat while he slept? If I were her, I would have gotten rid of him ages ago.

The arena smelled of dank misery, as if thousands had battled for their lives on this very ground and lost. Perhaps I would soon be one of them.

The Aldara mark on my throat sizzled, and I whipped around to face the dais. The Storm Prick himself sat beside Marcella, and Ruhh hovered behind him like a wickedly grinning bad smell. Arrow’s eyes speared through mine, piercing my heart.

With his knees spread wide, he reclined against a scrolled headrest of gold, his feather ear cuffs glinting in the gloomy light, and large palms resting on his thighs. He appeared to be at his kingly leisure, as if he didn’t have a care in the realms and was looking forward to witnessing my demise.

His purple-black wings were on display, erect as if ready for flight, contradicting the relaxed state of his limbs. I frowned, wondering if it really had been him flying over the Fen Forest while I was with the serpent fae.

Arrow’s lips parted, his chest rising and falling with an obvious sigh, and my heart stuttered in pathetic response.

Stupid heart. It needed to get a life.

“Did you bring me the blood orchid, Zali?” asked Azarn, beckoning me forward.

I pulled a single petal from my pocket and marched forward, placing it on my palm when I reached the bottom of the stone dais.

A servant ran down the stairs, snatched it from me, then delivered it to the king.

“What power does the petal hold?” I asked.

“That is none of your business.” Azarn strode back and forth in front of his family, who sat statue-still on their thrones as if unmoved by the unfolding events. Perhaps they knew better than to voice their opinions.

Only Arrow sat slightly forward, his fingers digging into his knees and knuckles white, far from relaxed now.

“Please remember,” said the king, “in today’s tournament, magic is banned and no killing allowed. Permanent maiming is acceptable, of course.”

Oh, of course . I would expect nothing less.

I swiveled on my heel and faced the queen.

A strange intensity shone in Estella’s eyes as she dipped her head, acknowledging me, not violence or determination, but something more mysterious.

She took slow, deliberate steps toward me, her movements graceful, as if we were about to dance around a ballroom. A hint of sadness touched her smile, and it felt as though she peered into my soul, uncovering my insecurities and failings, my every hope and dream.

“Do not worry, Zali. No matter what happens, I won’t use magic against you ,” she whispered, her heavily accented vowels long, but her words clipped short.

“Wits and swords,” I said, bowing my head in respect. She was a queen after all, and quite a formidable one.

According to rumors, Estella was ancient, a masterful wielder of the Crystal Realm’s particular brand of star magic. With my own eyes, I’d witnessed her incredible skills with a sword, but I thanked the dust she couldn’t use her cosmic power during our battle today.

It couldn’t have been much past the early afternoon, and yet the last of the daylight sank behind the trees, the arena now lit solely by flames from braziers, torches, and the eerie mushrooms that scaled the stone surfaces.

Esen appeared and threw me a sword; the same one I’d killed Dorn with. I slashed it in front of me in a lemniscate pattern, controlling my breathing, centering my weight over my hips, and locking all thoughts of Arrow behind the door in my mind that I labeled: Danger. Do not open .

As Estella closed the distance between us, the forest beyond the ancient stone walls came alive, creaking and whispering, distant creatures snarling and howling. But the fire courtiers remained still and silent, not scratching with a claw or rustling a wing. A tense backdrop to the impending clash.

She whipped her arm out to the side. Her sword appeared above the crowd and whizzed through the air, landing neatly in her outstretched hand.

Moving fast, the queen struck first, her blade slicing through the air with precision. I blocked the attack with all the strength I could muster, my arms vibrating with the impact. She pushed me back, her eyes searching mine, that flicker of sadness moving from her lips to her icy gaze.

Estella moved with otherworldly grace, redirecting my strikes without losing breath. Each thrust was swift and exact, her blade stopping a mere inch from my body, over and over. Determined to survive, I took more risks, countering with lightning-fast strikes, my feet grounded, maintaining balance and strength.

After a few minutes, I was certain the queen held back her true strength. She could have taken my arm off three times over if she’d wanted to. Sparks of light trailed Estella’s blade. Not magic, but likely produced by the metal itself, which must have originated from the Crystal Realm, the land of her birth.

Under my breath, I chanted the Mydorian war song, repeating the last phrase again and again— Mydor blood will never fail .

We danced around each other, our swords ringing through the arena in a symphony of violence. Sweat dripped down my face, and my muscles ached, but as long as I could hold my weapon, I wouldn’t yield.

Our swords clashed repeatedly as we spun and twisted, grunting with each impact. Without magic, we were equally matched in height and strength, but she was faster. Her ferocity felt fake, an act to please Azarn, and I wanted to win more than she did, that much was apparent.

The grueling dance continued for ten minutes or so, my muscles burning, my lungs aching, but then the Mydorian forest of my childhood enveloped me, and my brain shifted into a different state, like it used to when I trained with my brother Quin. Before he’d attempted to destroy me.

I always beat him because I practiced the hardest and for the longest. And in Taln, over the last week, I’d kept my muscles strong, exercising in my tower, performing endless sit-ups, push-ups, and resistance training until I fell into bed exhausted each night.

I had no idea of Estella’s capacity for endurance, but if I had to, I could spar all night long.

The next time she advanced, I feinted left, then spun out of her attack, running to the other side of the arena. The courtiers roared, probably because I looked like a coward fleeing their queen’s wrath. To gain momentum, I ran up a wall, flipped back onto my feet, then bolted toward the queen, screaming like a sea kelpie bursting from a wave to leap upon their prey.

Estella dipped into a crouch, then attacked, crossing the arena at speed in a series of startling, one-armed cartwheels. I blinked and her sword slashed from my shoulder across my chest, blood staining my tunic.

Clutching the front of my body, I gasped for air, nausea battling panic inside me. The Fire Court erupted in cheers and howls of triumph. Their queen was winning.

With two hands, Estella held her sword vertically in front of her body, the hilt level with her stomach, the blade a long shadow over her face. “Sartoriahn galaxiaros,” she breathed.

Bright light flashed, silver searing the backs of my eyes, blinding me. A shimmering mantle of magic settled on my shoulders, wrapping so tight I could hardly breathe.

“Don’t panic,” Estella said. “Look around you.”

I did as she said, my jaw dropping in astonishment. Beyond the translucent field of magic that encircled us, every fae in the arena, including the royal family, appeared to be frozen solid, their skin waxy and gray, their eyes vacant.

Cosmic magic. I’d heard awe-inspiring tales of the Crystal Realm’s star power, but this was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen.

“Azarn prohibited magic,” I warned, my voice trembling slightly. “And you said yourself you wouldn’t use any.”

“His courtiers are fine. Do not worry. And I won’t harm you, Zali. I promise.”

How many broken vows had I heard from the fae? Their words were meaningless.

“Why wouldn’t you? Your husband wants me dead. Your son hopes to torture me for all eternity. I’m nothing but a pawn in their schemes to control the gold trade.”

Her pale-blue eyes flashed white. “You and I are the same. Imprisoned by men with limited vision who are greedy for power. I’m not a willing participant in their game, and I don’t believe you are, either. We want the same things—balance in the Star Realms, peace. I can help you achieve that, Zali.”

“All right.” I nodded, lowering my sword as relief washed over me. “Tell me how to get out of Taln.” I wasn’t sure if Estella could be trusted, but it couldn’t hurt to hear her out. Anything was better than having no plan. No allies.

“The first thing you should know is Melaya’s magic-blocking power is not infallible. He is strong because he controls his feelings and emotions. His weakness is his twin brother, Nukala.”

“That’s useful information. Tell me more about Melaya’s brother.”

“Unfortunately, in this space, my words are bound and limited by old magic, and I cannot reveal more. But you are a twin yourself. I implore you to reflect upon that.”

“I will. But, please, I need to get out of Taln.”

“We cannot discuss that here,” she hissed, grabbing my wrist and squeezing hard. “Listen carefully, Zali. When the star shield dissolves, I will be lying on the ground and your sword mus t be at my throat. Tell no one you have more blood orchid petals. Hide them...” Tremors shook her shoulders, and her eyes rolled back in her head. “I can’t sustain the time lock much longer. I’ll speak to King Arrowyn. We need a plan. Now get your blade ready. Quickly.”

“Arrow? I’m stuck here because of him.”

With a groan, Estella collapsed on the ground. I raised my sword and touched its tip to her white throat as the forest shuddered, flames flickered, and the fae began to stir around us.

At the sight of their queen under my blade, chaos broke out, rows of trolls, orcs, and jinn tumbling over each other, snarling and growling. Azarn called for quiet, and silence settled over the arena.

I threw my sword to the side, then reached down and helped Estella to her feet. She played the part of an overpowered opponent, gliding back to her seat with her head bowed against her husband’s fury as he snarled out a reprimand. After Estella took her place beside him, she stared vacantly into the flame-lit arena, as if her mind was in another time and place.

Only then did I allow my gaze to shift toward the winged male whose breastplate of gold feathers and silver eyes gleamed in the firelight. He looked smug and calm, but probably would’ve worn the same expression if I were lying on the stones with my limbs hacked from my torso.

Hovering behind Arrow, Ruhh mouthed indecipherable words at me, likely a spell or a curse, wishing me speedy travels to the hell realms.

Esen arrived at my side. “Well done again, human,” she said. “You have a talent for survival.”

I took a breath to reply, but Azarn rose from his chair and pointed a flame-tipped scepter at my chest. “Tomorrow, you will face your final opponent, and the rules will be a little different. Your adversary can try to kill you, but you may only attempt the same if their killing blow fails.”

“That’s hardly fair,” I said.

Bakhur wore an unpleasant smile, and I wondered what he’d prefer to see tomorrow. My gruesome demise. Or my triumph, so he’d have a human bride to torture.

“If you don’t like the rules, you can always decide not to participate,” said Azarn.

“Will you allow me to select my own opponent?”

The king smiled, twirling the point of his beard between bejeweled fingers. “That depends. Who would you choose?”

I grinned back at him. “You.”

Looking ready to chop my head off, Melaya stepped forward, a flaming sword in his hand.

Arrow’s laugh boomed out, sending shivers down my spine. With his head casually resting against the back of his chair, the Storm King gazed at Azarn through hooded eyes.

“The human wishes to ruffle your feathers, Azarn,” he drawled. “And you’re obliging her.”

The Fire King paled. “Melaya, sit down. Now. ”

The mage obeyed, his flame-filled eyes never leaving me. There was no doubt in my mind Melaya wanted me dead, perhaps even more than Azarn did.

Esen took me by the arm. “Let’s go before you irritate someone into lopping your head off.”

As we turned to leave the arena, at the corner of my vision, I saw Arrow stand, but quickly sit back down, as if he wanted to chase after me, but remembered himself just in time.

Silver moonlight illuminated Sable eating grass outside the arena walls, exactly where we’d left her hours ago. I gave Esen a questioning look.

“She’s glamored to stay where I leave her. And before you ask, no, it’s not cruel. Taln’s horses are treated very well, and Sable is perfectly happy.”

“If you insist,” I said, mounting after greeting the horse with a quick nose rub.

As Esen settled in the saddle behind me, Ruhh appeared, her ankles crossed as she sat on a gnarled tree branch like a spooky ghoul.

“Fuck,” breathed Esen in my ear. “Stop doing that, Ruhh. What in the flames do you want?”

The ghost girl’s eyes widened. “Don’t speak to me like that, soldier girl. My brother wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’d mind too much.” Esen nudged Sable into a walk. “You’re here for a reason, so hurry up and tell me what it is.”

Floating beside the horse, her cheek resting on her palm as if she was reclining on a towel at the palace’s bathhouse, Ruhh said, “I want to take the human back to her tower myself.”

“Why?” Esen asked.

“So I can talk privately with her.”

Esen laughed. “No. Absolutely not. Now get back to your crypt before I summon an exorcist.”

Fear flickered over the dead girl’s face. “Must you always spoil my fun, King’s Guard?”

“Yes,” Esen replied. “I know the type of games you like to play, little ghostling.”

Cruelty ran in the veins of the Taln royal family , I thought, as the runes on my back prickled.

Ruhh snarled and disappeared, her gray gown dissolving into the darkening sky, and Esen urged Sable into a gallop, ensuring I couldn’t question her about Ruhh’s schemes.

As we passed the castle wall near the fire gardens, my Aldara mark sizzled. Arrow again. It had to be. I whipped my head around, searching the shadows, but found no sign of the Storm King.

A breeze from above blew my hair over my eyes as Esen pulled the horse to a stop, then Arrow landed in front of us, folding his enormous purple-black wings behind his back.

For a moment or two, possibly three, I gazed at the dark iridescent colors, the wing tips glowing in the moonlight. I’d forgotten how beautiful they were, how mesmerizing.

“King Arrowyn,” said Esen in a flat greeting.

Staring at me, he said, “Get off the horse.”

Esen dug her fingers into my ribs. “Don’t move,” she told me, then to Arrow, “Why would I trust a traitor with her?”

“If I’m a traitor, then that makes three of us. Let her dismount, or get down and fight me, Esen. Choose now. I’m not feeling very patient.”

“Do as he says,” Esen whispered against my ear.

“I’m not interested in anything he has to say.”

“Don’t argue with me, Leaf. Just do it,” Arrow replied, his voice low and menacing.

My Aldara mark throbbed, and his gaze fixed on it, his nostrils flaring as if he could smell my fear and perhaps other… disappointing feelings.

The moment my boots hit the ground, he charged at me, grabbing my throat and pushing me against an external wall of the palace. “Stay out of this if you know what’s good for you,” he barked over his shoulder at Esen who’d leaped from the horse and followed close behind us.

“I can’t stop you, Arrow, but I can stand here and listen to every word you say, bearing witness.”

Arrow growled, his eyes boring into mine. He stroked the Aldara mark on my throat. “Good. It’s still active. Bakhur wants to hurt you, but he can’t because of my mark.”

“That’s your job alone, is it? To hurt me?”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ve had this conversation before. My answer hasn’t changed.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” I snarled back. “And yours, thus far, have been abhorrent.”

Grunting, he pushed me harder against the rough stones, his fingers flexing on my throat, tight but not causing pain yet. “And what about your actions?” he asked.

“ Mine ? What have I done that comes near to equaling your betrayal?”

“Oh, Leaf,” he said, his voice husky and breath caressing my cheek. “How your words wound me.”

Fire sizzled through my veins, setting every part of me alight. His touch infuriated and excited me. Made me want to scream and slap his perfect face until every speck of shame and self-disgust had left me.

How dare my body burn like it wanted him. Like it needed him. My flesh was weak, and my thoughts were no better. Chaos reigned in my mind as I stared at his lips, wondering how they’d feel against mine, a sick part of me willing to do anything to find out.

I shook my head and pushed against him, but he was as unyielding as a fucking mountain.

“If you have anything of importance to say,” Esen told him, “then for gold’s sake, hurry up.”

Arrow breathed out a curse, and Esen hissed, “Melaya’s coming. I can feel him through the mergelyn bracelet Azarn makes his soldiers wear.”

“Be careful,” Arrow whispered, then flicked out his wings, a dark shadow engulfing me before he rose up and disappeared in a gust of wind.

We scrambled and mounted Sable, and she bounced into a trot just as the twin fire mages rounded the corner, Melaya’s eyes blazing with their usual cheery aggression.

“Good evening, Melaya. Nukala,” I said in a pleasant tone to mess with them. “I hope you both enjoyed today’s entertainment.”

Sweeping past us in the direction of the fire gardens, Melaya said nothing, while his brother stared over his shoulder at me with curious black eyes.

“Can’t your brother speak?” I called out. Esen shushed me, but I ignored her and continued teasing the mages. “If he could, I’m sure he’d tell me it was quite an achievement to beat the Fire Queen.”

“Oh, Zali,” Esen admonished. “Will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut?”

Rubbing my chin, I pretended to consider her question. “No, I don’t think so. My parents raised me to stand up for myself, and it would be disrespectful to their memories to do otherwise.”

Esen chuckled, urging Sable into a canter.

All the way back to my tower, I gave thanks for the way she had softened toward me. In the last few days, this fae who had once tried to kill me seemed gentler, kinder, almost protective of me.

Perhaps in time, she would be a true friend and ally, and I could take her back to Mydorian, two victorious females, riding high after destroying our enemies.

The Storm King and the Fire King.