Chapter Five
Avari
The mere presence of the king left me drowning in a tide of anxiety.
My usual coping tricks of steady breathing and pointless counting failed me, so I tried to ignore the alarms blaring through my body and instead reached out to Anya for comfort.
It wouldn’t be the first time I had gaslit myself into a false sense of safety.
‘I’ve only ever trained Ortensians,’ I began, forcing my voice steady. ‘Usually, I start by asking them to visualise a dragon and shape it with their power. It takes a few sessions—’
Lifting a pinky finger, the king interrupted me.
Raging flames erupted into the shape of a magnificent, blue-flamed beast. It was almost the size of my own, and I had never seen anyone wield their power with such ease.
The dragon soared above us, breathing red-hot fire until we stood encircled by a ring of flame.
The man before me didn’t seem to realise that such rings amplified witchcraft.
The air thickened with energy. The land beneath me pulsed in answer.
I shouldn’t have enjoyed the stronger connection to his land, but I did.
The forest reached out to my witchcraft like an old friend.
Closing my eyes, I followed the grid of energy and felt the pull of everything alive around me.
The roses in the courtyard bloomed with comfort and playfulness, while the willows whispered truths long hidden, steeped in wisdom they rarely shared. Even the forest itself radiated longing, a pulse of pure, undiluted power. I felt the soul of this place, and it felt me in return.
When the ring finally dissipated, sweat beaded across my brow. The king was gone from my sight. I turned to look for him and walked straight into a wall of muscle. His chest. I staggered, dizzy from the impact, and might have fallen if he hadn’t caught my elbow.
‘What is it with you and personal space?’ I snapped, yanking my arm free. Bruises already bloomed where his fingers had dug into my skin.
He blinked rapidly, face unreadable. ‘Did you connect to my land?’
Uh-oh. Knowing his hatred for witches, I should have been more careful. I stepped back. ‘I didn’t mean to. It just happened.’
‘What did you see?’ His tone was low and quiet, all the more dangerous for it. He lowered his head, drawing closer until his sharp teeth came into view.
‘Rest assured, I saw nothing. Your secrets are safe. I won't intrude again.’ My voice trembled, an unspoken offering of submission in exchange for mercy. The way his gaze travelled between my pleading eyes and the frantic beat of my heart told me he was weighing his next move.
‘Was it responsive?’ he pressed, letting out a quiet sigh as though his internal battle were slowly wearing him down.
‘Um, it was. The trees were eager to connect,’ I rushed to explain myself. ‘The forest felt lonely.’
His curiosity unsettled and electrified me. Men like him thrived on hidden motives. When his eyes suddenly grew sharper, he snarled, ‘Do anything to my land and I will break your neck. I’ll enjoy it.’
I believed him. Yet his words lacked the venom I’d expected.
It was as if he merely wanted to make sure I stayed in line.
He confused me. Though I feared him or what he might do to me, I had to admit that being around people again felt…
pleasing. It was pathetic. At the Ortensian court, no one spoke to me unless required.
Life as a fire-wielder among water people had been one of silence and isolation.
But here in Fogoya, I’d spoken more in two days than in weeks at home. Even if most of it consisted of threats and complaints, he still made me feel more alive than I had in years—if only because he forced me to keep my fire constantly in check.
My mother’s orders were clear: keep him from bonding with a dragon, but he was my best chance at freedom, and I would not waste it.
After the king declared he needed to tend to some of his duties that afternoon and ended our session, he sent me back to the castle to have dinner with Michael.
I roamed the endless maze of corridors, trying to find my way back to the dining room, but there didn’t seem to be any staff, and shouting for Michael’s help proved useless.
Exhausted and hungrier than I had ever been, I eventually gave up and sank onto the polished floor, afraid I might pass out. Connecting to this land was as phenomenal as it was draining.
Across from me, a dim light illuminated an old family portrait.
I studied it, hoping someone would find me.
It felt like hours as I counted the buttons on the women’s dresses over and over again, trying to focus on anything other than the growing ache in my stomach.
I must have drifted off because I woke to a prickling heat spreading across my arm.
When I opened my eyes, the king towered over me, one of his flames curling up my cotton sleeve. The fabric yellowed and sizzled, the smell of it burning making me nauseous as I scrambled to smother the fire. The skin beneath was already blistering.
So that was how he decided to wake me... Again, I was reminded how badly I needed to hone my fire if I wanted to survive near him. Near anyone. One day, I would have my vengeance.
‘What are you doing here?’ His tone dripped with mockery, the smirk on his lips infuriating. ‘Didn’t I tell you to get dinner?’
‘Oh, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?’ I shouted, daring to meet his gaze. ‘Only I don’t know this castle. There’s no staff anywhere. How was I supposed to find the dining room after seeing it once in my life? This place goes on forever.’
Disrespecting someone like him was reckless, but I didn’t care. I braced for the outcome: a slap, a blast of fire, maybe a cutting remark. Instead, his lips curved into a slow, dark smile that raised the hairs on my arms.
‘I see hunger’s a sore spot too. Who would have thought.’ Gaze lingering on the smoke rising from my sleeve, his eyes gleamed with amusement. The less I held myself together, the more it entertained him. ‘Follow me.’
We walked through endless corridors and staircases until I was certain he’d taken the longest route on purpose. When we finally reached the dining room, a feast already covered the marble table.
My head spun and my stomach growled viciously. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this hungry. Connecting to nature always took its toll, but this felt extreme. The forest’s power had drained me more than I realised. It felt like I was on the brink of starvation.
We took our previous seats, and I barely noticed Michael sitting opposite. Too focused on the food, I piled potatoes, salad and eggs onto my plate and took a blissful bite that melted in my mouth.
A quiet moan slipped out before I could stop it. Both pairs of eyes snapped in my direction. Of course. Fae hearing.
My cheeks burned, and I froze, then carried on eating. Let them judge. My stomach was a bottomless pit, and I wasn’t stopping until it was full.
Once I had eaten enough to feel whole again, I finally noticed how quiet the table was. Michael was there with us again. Was staff having dinners with their king a regular occurrence in Fogoya?
‘I’m sorry, princess,’ Michael murmured softly, his expression tight.
‘What are you sorry for?’
‘I was supposed to walk you back,’ he explained. ‘I was late and you suffered.’
My brow pinched. The only reason I’d suffered was because his monarch decided to set me on fire, but that wasn’t Michael’s fault. ‘You’ve nothing to apologise for. I got lost, that’s all.’
His concerned gaze shifted to his king. ‘I thought you were angry that we left you to fend for yourself. I heard your conversation with R—’ He caught himself under his monarch’s glare. ‘With the king. You seemed very displeased.’
So he’d been eavesdropping. Wonderful.
‘I wasn’t myself, actually. I’m sorry,’ I admitted, feeling heat creep into my cheeks again. The monarch noticed, of course. His gaze dropped to my flushed skin, eyes glinting. Every bit of my discomfort pleased him.
‘If there’s one thing we fire-breathers share, it’s that we don’t handle hunger well,’ he claimed after a moment of pause. Then his eyes darkened, shifting from molten amber to hazel—the same look he’d worn when he threatened me earlier.
‘What does that mean? Are fire-breathers more prone to hunger?’ I asked, genuinely curious.
They exchanged puzzled looks. It must have been common knowledge to them, but it wasn’t a symptom water-wielders suffered from, so how could I know? Witchcraft could sometimes cause bodily reactions like exhaustion and hunger, but it wasn’t common among strong witches. I wasn’t one.
‘Don’t you feel it after you use your fire?’ Michael asked. ‘When it settles in your stomach, don’t you feel the urge to eat?’
‘No.’ The word came out quietly. Not ever feeling it in the stomach was one thing, but not recognising the potential havoc it wrecked on my body?
It felt soul-crushing, but I doubted my minuscule fire could even evoke such a reaction.
I could have told them my fire wasn’t strong enough to do that, but I didn’t trust them.
Not yet. They’d judge me, maybe worse. They’d find out eventually, but for now, I wanted something almost normal. Conversation. Company.
‘That’s why you’re so small then,’ the king barked, still addressing Michael, though the insult was aimed at me. ‘You keep starving your power. Our women aren’t usually this dainty unless they’re sick.’
I blinked, stunned. ‘I’m a perfectly normal size for a witch, thank you.’
‘Fire-breathers are sturdier,’ he said mockingly. ‘Females usually reach at least five ten.’
‘Well, I’m a halfling,’ I shot back. His wide grin told me he was enjoying this. ‘Besides, haven’t we established I’m not one of you?’
‘That’s no excuse. You breathe fire, yet you look half-dead. It’s because you don’t feed your powers.’ The tone of his voice was infuriatingly calm. ‘Fire-breathing is a privilege. Clearly wasted on you.’
The words hit deeper than I expected. Yes, I lost weight; stress did that, but to say I didn’t deserve my fire?
I pushed back my chair. This was enough. I was used to insults in the Ortensian court, but hearing them here cut differently.
‘Thank you for dinner. It’s late, and I should go,’ I said, keeping my voice polite. There was no point in arguing. Like everyone else, they would never see my worth.
‘No, stop.’ Michael’s eyes softened as he stood. ‘You don’t have to leave yet, we—’
The king huffed. ‘She’s not leaving.’
Both our heads snapped to him. Tone calm but commanding, his words didn’t make sense.
‘You want to train this late?’ I asked.
‘Don’t,’ Michael warned quietly.
Dread twisted in my chest as something deep inside me, a sense that usually remained dormant, now thrashed, making the situation all the more dangerous.
‘You’re not leaving, princess,’ the king said, watching me closely. He flicked his wrist, and a wall of fire roared across the doorway. ‘You’re staying here from now on.’
His gaze caught mine and held it like a spell, rooting me to the spot as though he were waiting for me to respond, only so he could crush it.
Hopelessness clawed up my spine. I couldn’t fight him; he’d crush me. My mother wouldn’t reach me here. I had to think.
‘Why would I do that?’ I challenged, struggling to stay calm. ‘The treaty says you can’t imprison any Ortensian during training unless they commit a crime. I’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Indeed, but you’re a fire-breather, princess. That alone bends the rule. Technically, your power falls under my dominion; that makes you my subject. Being a halfling complicates things, of course, but now I know your dragon originates from Fogoya, too. That makes it easier.’
His aura pulsed with satisfaction. My stomach turned to ice.
No.
I refused to trade one cage for another. He was supposed to help me get rid of my mother’s chains, not shackle me in his own. Tears welled in my eyes. ‘You can’t do this. My mother will do anything to get me back. She’ll slaughter your people.’
For a heartbeat, something like compassion flickered behind his eyes. Then it vanished under a cold laugh. ‘Your mother,’ he said, spitting the word like an insult, ‘has been trying to do that for centuries. What makes you think she’ll succeed now?’
He stepped closer, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Knowing his mind was set, I still warned him that the Ortensian Queen wouldn’t stop until she got me back… and he savoured every single one of my pleas.