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

Chapter 14

Leaf

The rain had finally stopped, and Arrow was gone. A long breath shuddered through my lips, my legs weak and shaking. I grabbed a low branch, swaying on my feet as my head spun. It was only exhaustion. Nothing more.

I didn’t care if the Storm King died, and if he did, then, great, I’d accomplished my goal, and only joy should make me swoon. But unfortunately, it was more than that.

Shame, regret, even sorrow coursed through my veins. Part of me couldn’t imagine living in any realm where Arrow didn’t exist. I had to face it—my mind was a conflicted mess.

Footsteps crunched over bracken and fallen leaves as more fae poured into the forest—Azarn and Estella first, Bakhur following close behind.

The queen’s eyes flashed at me, relaying a message I couldn’t interpret. Not in my current state of exhaustion. I could barely stand upright, let alone think straight. Perhaps she meant to reassure me that her husband would let me live. But surely there were better ways to achieve that… like with a secret visit to my tower, where we could hatch a plan to destroy him.

Azarn sidled up to me. “It appears you almost killed King Arrowyn, Princess,” he said, a touch of awe in his voice. A similar excitement glimmered in his son’s eyes. “Fortunately for you, he still lives. For now. But if he does dies from the injuries you caused, then your life is also forfeit.”

Estella shot an icy look at Azarn. “Husband, Arrowyn is much weakened and will die without attention from our healers.”

My chest constricted with a confusing mix of pain and triumph. “Will you allow him to die, King Azarn?” I asked.

He laughed. “Arrowyn Ramiel’s continued good health is still required. Come. We must announce your victory to my courtiers.”

“To kill a fae swiftly,” Estella whispered as we fell back a few paces and entered the arena together. “You must strike the heart dead center, deep enough to stop it from beating before their natural healing power repairs the damage. But I implore you not to try to use this tactic on Arrowyn. There is much to tell you when circumstances permit.”

I eyed the two enormous dragons crouched in the center of the arena. At least ten times the size of a tall fae, they huddled together, stretching their long necks and red-tipped wings, yellow eyes searching the crowd, perhaps for a tasty appetizer. Rancid-smelling smoke puffed from their nostrils, eddying through the air.

They were formidable beasts, and I hoped I never had cause to get too close to them.

“Is it wise to describe how best to kill your kind, Estella? Given the chance, I could use the tactic on you.”

“The last fae you should attempt to murder is your only friend in Taln.”

Meaning: Estella thought of herself as my ally.

Wasn’t she worried I might share the news with Azarn or her son to gain an advantage? And advising me not to harm Arrow; now that was stretching our burgeoning friendship. No one had the right to ask that of me.

The things he’d said in the forest spun through my mind, taunting me as my palms dampened and sweat broke out on my brow.

You must realize I never stopped loving you .

Did he realize I had trust issues? Major ones.

To believe his words, I’d have to accept that he told the truth while I held his life in my hands. That he’d never been my enemy. Had always tried to protect me. And that he cared for me above all else.

But it wasn’t possible. Evidence suggested the opposite was true.

The letters he’d written while we were separated after Quin’s death—two passionless missives over a three-week period. If he had truly cared and wanted to hide it from the Sun Realm, he could have visited me in secret. The man had wings, after all.

So many had hurt me. Davy in Coridon’s Underfloor cell. Grendal. Esen. The sailors on Captain Loligos’s ship. My own twin turned against me. Everyone betrayed me. I couldn’t let myself trust anyone again—perhaps except for Ari, Van, and Raiden’s mother, Ildri. Ever .

Estella drew me onto the dais where her stiff-backed family waited, and then Esen arrived carrying a velvet-wrapped parcel. She nodded at the queen and placed it on her open palm.

“Zali,” Estella said, projecting her voice for the entire court to hear. “Since you’ve triumphed in all three of King Azarn’s entertainments, soon you will become the daughter I have long wished for. From now on, your movements within our city will not be restricted.”

My pulse hammered, and I struggled to keep my expression blank. This was incredible news. Moving freely about the palace and grounds, it wouldn’t take long to discover the best escape route and—

“Zali?” said the queen. “Can you hear me?”

I blinked, focusing on the item Estella held out, an ankle bracelet fashioned from black metal and carved with flames. “This connects you to Melaya and prevents you from leaving the boundaries of Taln.”

My heart sank as Estella knelt and slipped my shoe off, then fastened the anklet to my leg before re-tying my bootlaces. For all intents and purposes, I had won every event, pretended to be docile and compliant, never making a fuss, and yet here I was—still a captive.

Azarn and Bakhur joined us, the king ranting about the strength and wonder of his son and heir, his claims highly doubtful. Then he waxed lyrical on the beauty and invincibility of his kingdom, but I hadn’t seen enough of the Sun Realm to comment. Finally, bored with my lack of response, he left the arena, his family trailing behind him with all the joy of a somber funeral procession.

Slowly, the courtiers followed, filing past me with curious stares. When I was alone, I settled on the king’s throne and tugged my boot off. I pushed, prodded, and dug my nails into every line of the anklet, searching for a crack or weakness.

“Don’t waste your energy,” said Ruhh, appearing out of thin air as she was so fond of doing. “The mergelyn anklet can’t be removed unless Melaya releases the spell.”

Groaning in frustration, I tightened my laces and stood up, brushing leaves and dirt from my leathers and swaying on my feet again. My stomach rumbled. Dust, I was starving. I could inhale a whole loaf of bread right now. Maybe even two of them.

I descended the dais stairs with care, and then strode out of the Arena of Ashen Souls, my gait a little unsteady. Hopefully, I’d never see the dust-damned place again. Not even in my nightmares.

“Where to next?” Ruhh asked as she floated beside me, her ghoulish smile lined up with the left side of my face.

“Oh, you’re still here,” I said, grimacing as I realized I had a long walk back to the palace.

“They left a horse for you.” Ruhh pointed toward the sunset at the largest spindle tree I’d ever seen, its branches alight with magical flames and Sable munching grass nearby.

Fiery sparks shot from the earth, and the horse reared up, snorting in fear. “What genius left her next to a geyser? Maybe they hoped she’d get burned to a crisp before I found her.”

Ruhh laughed. “Of course not. Sable just wandered over to the juiciest grass. Hurry up and mount. I have something to show you.”

“What is it? I’m tired and not in the mood for games.”

“Wouldn’t you like to use your newfound freedom to explore?”

“Most definitely. But I need water, food, and a bath first.”

“Then I shall meet you near the fire moat in two hours. Follow the palace wall south from the exit Esen leaves your tower by. I’ll show you how to stop Arrowyn for good and not take the blame for his demise.”

“Oh?” A mix of shame and excitement churned inside me. That was what I wanted, wasn’t it? The Storm King’s death?

“Please come, Zali,” said Ruhh. “Make sure you bring the blood orchid petal with you.”

“How did you know—”

“I’m a spirit. I can travel anywhere. See everything. Trust me.”

Trust her? That was the last thing I should do. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued by her offer.

I mounted Sable and returned to my tower room to eat and bathe, not wasting time exploring the palace along the way, even though I longed to satisfy my curiosity. I was also keen to investigate how far through Taln’s boundaries I could travel before Melaya would arrive to punish me. But both those things could wait until tomorrow.

After a blissful bath and a brief nap, I dressed in a clean tunic from my closet, and then hurried down the tower stairs to meet the ghost princess, my mind still sluggish with sleep.

What remained of Ruhh’s gray-white skin shimmered under the moonlight as she floated out of the shadows near the palace wall. Above her, the night sky loomed, an indigo blanket threaded with glittering stars. Fireflies danced through the humid air, and in the distance, a geyser erupted, illuminating the trees near the edge of Fen Forest.

“Right on time, Princess,” she said as I picked my way around rocks on the dark, uneven terrain. “Did you bring the petal?”

Raising a brow, I patted my pocket and let Ruhh guide me through the darkness to the fire moat that ran behind the palace. Lava flowed over the moat’s edge, tumbling off the nearby sea cliffs, down into the glowing mouth of a cave set into the rocks. I grabbed hold of a boulder and leaned forward, squinting into the dark as I tried to make sense of what I saw.

“Don’t ask,” Ruhh said. “The less you know about what happens in that cave the better.”

Of course her comment only increased my curiosity, but the cave would have to wait, too. “What did you want to show me?” I asked.

Ruhh floated closer, damp air enveloping me as she stroked her fingers through my hair. “When rubbed on your skin, the orchid petal will make you invisible, just like your reaver’s cloak.”

“I thought they were poisonous.” I really shouldn’t trust her. She could be lying, but if what she said was true, invisibility was a useful weapon.

“Vyprin wants everyone to believe the petals are dangerous. If their true value was common knowledge, there would be thousands more fae bones piled up in his den.”

“I imagine he’d enjoy that.”

“No, he is lazy and prefers to spend his time sleeping. Tell me, Zali, do you love Arrowyn Ramiel still?”

My fingers curled into my palms until my knuckles cracked. “No,” I replied, raising my chin.

Sparks exploded in the moat, blinding me as three creatures formed from the lava, flames flickering over their long limbs as they rose up. Their jaws snapped near my face, and they emitted strange crackling purrs before their bodies sank back into the river of fire, disappearing.

Ruhh cackled and flew over the moat, spinning somersaults before hovering in front of me, her bare toes inches above the rocks I stood upon.

“What in the fae realms were they?” I asked, my jaw hanging open.

“The khareek—lie seekers. They’re quite greedy for them and enjoyed yours very much.”

Oh. Embarrassment scalded my cheeks. Had my answer to Ruhh’s question summoned them to the surface of the moat? Because somewhere deep down, a foolish part of me still loved Arrow—almost as much as I hated him.

“How long does a petal’s magic last for?” I asked.

“One petal… hm, not very long. Approximately half an hour, but it depends on how you apply it and on your individual body’s reaction. Is one petal all you have?”

No way would I answer that question. Instead, I’d ask my own as a distraction. “Why should I trust you, Ruhh?”

“Because I know what you hope to achieve here in Taln. They’ve told you Arrow ordered your arrest, and ever since then, the thought of killing him consumes you.”

I swallowed hard, but said nothing.

She leaned close and whispered against my ear. “My thoughts are similarly occupied. You could finish Arrowyn Ramiel off before he recovers from his battle wounds. We wouldn’t be the only ones rejoicing in his death.”

“Why bring me here? You could have told me that on the ride back from the arena.”

“Because the khareek reveal lies, and I need to know if you still want to kill Arrowyn. Do you, human?”

Gritting my teeth, I focused on the memory of my arrest. On Melaya’s words when he greeted me in the Light Realm desert: Zali Omala of the Hidden City of Mydorian, by order of Arrowyn Ramiel, the King of Storms and Feathers, you are under arrest .

“Yes, I still wish to kill the Storm King,” I replied as we spun and faced the river of fire. It flowed calmly, only tiny sparks floating on its surface.

“You speak the truth,” said Ruhh.

“And if I’d lied?”

“I would’ve pushed you in the moat.”

“Ruthless,” I said, begrudgingly impressed. “If I rub the petal on my skin, will it harm me in any way?”

“Not unless you swallow it.”

I checked the moat, finding its surface still calm. “Good. Thank you for being honest,” I said.

“Don’t waste your breath thanking me. Instead, make yourself invisible and pay Arrowyn a visit.”

“Why don’t you kill him yourself?” I asked.

“Would if I could, but I can’t wield a knife very well in my current state.”

“Fair enough. Where might I find him?”

“Where do royal guests usually stay in a palace?” she said sweetly.

I sighed. “That’s not very helpful.”

“A spell has been cast against me disclosing his whereabouts. Melaya thinks of everything, except for those pretty orchid petals. Now hurry up, Zali. Tonight, the Storm King is weak. You won’t get a better opportunity.”

I hated taking orders from anyone, let alone a creepy ghost girl. But she was right. Time was of the essence. I carefully unfolded the cloth I’d tucked a few petals inside, the rest of the flower hidden in my room in case Ruhh tried to take it from me.

“Can I apply it anywhere?” I asked, staring at the velvety petal on my palm.

“Yes, but the best place is over your heart, and be sure to rub it in well.”

I smeared the petal underneath my tunic, and my palm came away sticky with dark fluid. Breathing slowly, I waited, my heart racing. Nothing happened for several moments. Then a rush of nausea hit me, and I felt it—the satisfying sensation of magic rushing through my blood.

Ruhh laughed as I whispered the ancient elven chant, disappearing from the ghost girl’s view.

“Zali?” she called out. “You don’t need the reaver chant. The petals hold their own power.”

I knew that, but old habits were hard to break.

Ignoring her, I bolted past the palace’s curved outer walls until I came to the main entrance. I raced up the external stairs toward a pair of massive black doors etched with tiny bones and flames, shivering as the two guards flanking them sniffed the air with their wolf-like snouts.

Reflected flames from candelabras and wall sconces shone in the grand foyer’s polished obsidian floor, and a heady blend of spices and roasted meat flavored the air. Without thinking, I followed the trail of the mouthwatering scent.

Moving silently, I hurried along twisting corridors that led me deeper into the palace as they morphed from grand and light-filled to narrow and dark without logic or reason. The palace had a will of its own, and it wanted to deter my progress.

Thankfully, I didn’t spook easily.

A dark corridor suddenly opened into an ornate foyer. Music and laughter filtered through the cracks of large, molded black doors, the smell of food intensifying. I’d found the entrance to a feasting hall packed with raucous courtiers. My stomach growled, and I asked it to kindly pipe down until I had time to attend to its demands.

A grand, black-marble staircase stood on the other side of the foyer, two smaller bone-white staircases sweeping upward in graceful arcs on either side of it, leading to smaller towers. I hurried up the middle staircase, guessing that a visiting king would sleep in the largest tower, unless Azarn had insulted Arrow and given him a chamber in a less prestigious location. Which was more than possible.

Halfway up the stairs, two female jinn wearing white aprons over black tunics and carrying medical supplies—folded bandages and glass vials of bright-colored liquid—appeared on a landing, then marched down a hallway to my left. I watched them disappear through double doors etched with a golden phoenix at the end of the passage.

I tiptoed toward the door and pressed my ear against it. Male voices mumbled, too low to identify. Checking the mirror that hung on the opposite wall, making sure I was still invisible, I waited. Blood rushed through my ears, the sound louder than the conversation inside what-I-hoped-would-be Arrow’s bedchamber.

After about ten minutes, the jinn healers exited the room. I ducked sideways, and they strolled straight past me. I crept forward again and listened at the door, straining to make out the words being muttered on the other side.

The voices rose, and my heart stuttered and slammed against my ribs. They belonged to Arrow and King Azarn.

I’d found the right room, but if only I could decipher their conversation. My fingers flexed toward the doorknob, but I quickly drew my hand back.

The petal’s effect could wear off at any moment, which would be disastrous in front of Azarn. I had to be patient and wait until he left.

And if I made it inside the room, only to reappear in front of Arrow, I hoped I’d have time to lodge my knife deep in his heart before he could react. Then, finally, he’d be dead.

Pain strummed my insides, but I breathed through it, steeling my resolve. No matter what Arrow had said in the forest today, nothing could change who he’d been when I first met him.

A slaver. My jailer. The male who had tried to control me.

A fae who had kept me against my will.

And for that, he had to pay.