Chapter Ten
Avari
Chills tore through my body, rattling my teeth.
I must have died and gone to hell, only instead of a fiery inferno, I was trapped in an endless, merciless winter.
Tremors wracked my limbs, faltering for a heartbeat before returning stronger and sharper.
Perhaps this was fitting punishment: my mother’s curse of fire condemning me to die in the cold.
There was nothing the queen loved more than tormenting others, and because I was a fire-breather, I had always been first in line for cruelty. Daughter or not, I was an enemy of the state.
Her favouritism had always galled me. Lilian and Willow were the apples of her eye. Even before my powers awakened, she disliked me, perhaps sensing I would never be as strong as my sisters, which to a power-hungry monarch was the gravest sin of all.
I remembered the day of the curse as vividly as if it had happened yesterday.
I had been a teenager, not yet bonded to Anya.
The cleaning maids found the bag I’d hidden under my bed, packed for escape.
I hadn’t even managed to react before my mother blasted me with the spell.
The magic was so dark it sucked the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping while my only parent cackled.
‘You thought you could leave us?’ Her boot struck my ribs, the crack echoing through the chamber. ‘Try to leave again, and before the week is up, this—’ She jabbed a finger at my chest. ‘will burn you alive.’
Weeks passed before I could breathe without agony.
The ribs had long since healed, but the curse remained, a living thing coiled in my chest, waiting to strike.
It must have killed me this time. I remembered the sensation of burning alive, ash filling every crevice, my organs boiling as my consciousness drifted away.
Yet through the darkness came voices, faint and distant.
‘It’s been too long. She needs a real healer.’
‘She needs fire, which is what she’s getting.’ Was that the king’s voice?
‘She was almost burnt alive. That’s about as much fire as she might need!’ Michael snapped.
Behind me, Dracon sighed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Wait… Behind me?
‘That was the curse. It’s not the same,’ he almost whispered.
They knew about the curse. And was I lying on top of my captor?
‘Why are you behind me, creep?’ I rasped, my voice raw and broken. Speaking hurt.
The king flinched. Whether from offence or surprise at my being awake, I couldn’t tell.
‘Rest,’ he ordered. ‘You’ve been drained.’
Only then did I notice the void where my powers usually rested. Nothing but motes of dust remained.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ I protested, feeling the enticing warmth of the energy he was pushing into me through his chest at my back and through his arms wrapped around my stomach.
His chin rested lightly on my head, and though the intimacy made my skin prickle, my body welcomed the heat.
It disgusted me that his touch calmed me.
‘I’m thirsty,’ I whined, ashamed to need their help.
Michael pressed a glass of water to my cracked lips and tilted it carefully so I didn’t have to move my stiff neck.
I couldn’t comprehend the king’s sudden change of heart. The last time I had seen him, he had been enraged and violent. It seemed he was as unstable as he was powerful. But I had survived. The curse should have worked. My heart had stopped. My lungs had burned to cinders.
‘How?’ I demanded weakly.
And in unison they replied, ‘The forest.’
Before I could ask more, exhaustion dragged me under again.
When I next stirred, the restlessness hadn’t faded. Dampness coated my forehead, sweat dripping from loose strands of hair that someone had tied back. How thoughtful. Perhaps the king wanted an unobstructed view of the purple marks he had left around my throat.
At least my hair, unbound, would have formed a small barrier between me and the brute at my back, who still channelled his power into me.
One minute, he had tried to kill me; the next he was saving my life.
It made no sense. He probably believed me too weak to drain him, not that I wanted to.
Still, it seemed Michael and the king were the only reasons I had survived.
Everything my mother did was about control. The moment I ceased being useful, I became disposable. The queen would stop at nothing to finish what she had started. But the king’s proximity was hardly comforting; his psychopathic tendencies ran just as deep.
The vastness of his power astonished me. It felt pure, benevolent even. How could a man so cruel wield something that felt so good?
Focusing on the warmth, I wondered whether I could ever see him differently. Could I trust him to conjure a dragon and not unleash it in war?
‘How are you feeling?’ His voice was groggy; my stirring must have woken him.
My pulse quickened. Now that I could think clearly, the realisation that the King of Fogoya lay behind me in bed was mortifying.
‘It doesn’t feel like an endless pit where my fire used to be any more.' I sighed, unsure of what to say. ‘Thank you.’
Dracon shifted, lifting his hands from my stomach, seemingly deeming the contact through my back sufficient. ‘And physically?’
‘Well, I expected to be dead. Anything less severe, I can cope with,’ I muttered.
‘Ah, back to the usual humour.’ Without even looking, I could sense the smirk in his tone.
I felt so lost. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘The worst I can do is not answer,’ he replied dryly.
Actually, there was far worse he could do, but I didn’t bother pointing that out.
‘The forest,’ I breathed, feeling one of his arms hook around my waist again. The gesture felt possessive, almost defensive, as though the mention itself unsettled him.
Staying clear-headed around his flames was nearly impossible. His power filled me like bursts of light, caressing wounds I hadn’t realised were still there.
My defeated magic leapt to meet his, eager and trembling. I never realised crumbs of it had been replenished.
It was pathetic that even after he mistreated me, the fire within my magic was desperate for him. My body relaxed even as my mind screamed not to.
‘It’s natural,’ his low, husky voice cut through my thoughts.
‘What?’ I stilled, his proximity scattering every coherent thought.
‘Your fire reacting to mine. I can feel you tense every time they cross. Let it be.’ He leaned back, shifting our position a little and yawning. ‘The forest helps those it deems worthy.’
The forest thought I was worthy?
‘It’s just… I never shared my power with anyone before,’ I said quietly. ‘My fire’s excited to connect.’
The king laughed softly, not mockingly but almost warmly. It unsettled me more than his anger ever had.
‘Don’t overthink it. Fire-breathers don’t go around connecting left and right either.’ His voice turned much softer, almost conversational. ‘Most of my people see power-sharing as an intimate thing.’
The confession deepened my blush. The skin beneath his palms grew hot, my body betraying my confusion.
‘Ortensians like to share,’ I managed, trying to sound casual. ‘Though with the trust issues, they all wear enchanted moonstones to protect themselves.’
He shifted a little to look at my face and frowned. ‘What’s the point of sharing if you think they’ll drain you?’
I glared into his bright eyes. ‘Aren’t you scared I might drain you?’
‘Would you, princess?’ The whisper brushed my ear as he doubled the flames flowing into my body.
My head dropped forwards in pure bliss as warmth caressed every part of me, coaxing my muscles to relax and my mind to surrender.
It enveloped me like a blanket of intoxicating heat, and it took every ounce of will not to lose myself in it.
I was losing that battle. The world narrowed to fire and heartbeat, mine and his.
‘Would you steal it, little witch?’ he teased softly.
My breath caught. ‘I wouldn’t steal it.’
A rumble of laughter vibrated against my back. At least one of us found it funny.
My mind couldn't comprehend what was happening.
‘Is that what you'd do if someone tried to drain you?’ My imagination ran wild. ‘I assumed it would hurt.’
‘No,’ he murmured, a little taken aback. ‘That’s what I would do to you if you tried.’
I snickered. ‘Makes sense. Wouldn’t want to damage your tutor any more than she already is, right?’
The king paused.
‘Right.’ The curt tone signalled the shift in his mood; his fingers twitched on my stomach before he asked, ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
The words sounded accusatory, yet his voice remained gentle. As I searched for an answer, everything I thought of felt too fragile to offer. I would not bare my soul before him. He didn't deserve my trust or to understand my hardship, especially when he was part of it.
‘I asked you to let me leave,’ I said quietly.
‘I didn't know.’ His chest rose with a slow sigh, and I felt his heartbeat quicken against my back. ‘Everything would've been different if you'd told me. I wish you had.’
When I dared glance, he looked almost mournful.
‘You said a good witch is a dead one,’ I reminded him bitterly.
He tensed behind me. ‘I wish I had a better explanation for what I did, but I thought you’d bewitched me. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.’
There was nothing for me to say, so I stayed silent.
The last few days had shown me exactly how terrifying he could be.
They called him the Monster of the Fire Lands, yet lying there, listening to his steady breathing, he almost seemed...
normal. It was difficult to understand how someone so cruel could also be so gentle.
‘I thought you were going to kill me,’ I murmured, the terror of the past few days finally catching up with me. My heart had started racing again, and it took a conscious effort and several slow breaths to calm it. He'd already admitted he enjoyed causing palpitations. I didn't want to tempt him.
Dragging a hand down his face, he sighed again. ‘You may not believe me, but I won’t hurt you again.’
I wanted to laugh at that. But as my limbs grew heavier and the rhythm of his heartbeat lulled me, disbelief faded into exhaustion.
Resting my head against his chest, I let the warmth and steady pulse draw me into a fragile calm.