Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
ARA
My eyes fly open, and I scan the room, unsure of what woke me. I strain my ears, my eyes searching for anything, anyone moving in the dark, but there is nothing. All the shapes are accounted for by the furniture in my room. My heartbeat slows, and my breath comes easier. I sit up.
Maybe it’s the unfamiliar surroundings, but something about the palace has me on constant alert. And Deliah’s talk about backstabbing didn’t help either. I wait for another minute, but when nothing seems amiss, I lie back down.
I roll over, trying to get comfortable, when something crinkles under my hand. It’s a stiff, rectangular piece of paper with a blob of wax—a letter. I jerk up again, my hand reaching for the dagger on my nightstand. My eyes fly through the room, checking for movement, but again, there is no one.
“Solaris?” I ask and find him wide awake, his signature so close he has to be on the balcony. “What are you doing on the balcony?”
“Keeping watch,” he answers. “I don’t like it here.”
That would make two of us.
“Was someone in my room?” I ask him even though I already know the answer. How else would the letter have gotten here?
“He promised not to disturb you.” An image of Tate accompanies his words.
“Tate was here, and you didn’t wake me?” I chastise. “You knew I wanted to talk to him.”
“Daeva told me not to wake you.”
“Oh, when Daeva said that…” I huff out a breath.
“How about you read the letter instead of swooning over it?” Solaris suggests, and I stop my thumb, which had been tracing the seal.
I light the candle next to my bed with my gift and melt half—okay, nearly all of it—before a small flame flickers to life.
IIan had started practicing my gift with me after I almost set the dining table on fire by accident.
The wick sits now in a big puddle of wax, sooting unsightly, but it’s burning, so who cares how it looks?
The paper is thick and heavy, a single word gracing its front. Sunshine. The wax bears the royal seal.
My hands shake slightly while I open and unfold the letter. His handwriting is sure and slightly slanted, and it makes me realize how little I know about him. I don’t even know if he always writes like this or if it means he was in a hurry. My finger strokes over the paper.
“Could you stop petting that damn letter and start reading it?” Solaris grumbles, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I do.
Sunshine,
I’m not sure if I’ll be able to catch you alone before I have to leave, and around here, you never know who is listening, so a letter seemed safer.
On patrol, a man approached me to warn you. He said his name was Tynan.
He didn’t say much, only that you need to be careful. He claimed to belong to the mist court and have your best interest at heart. I don’t know about that, but we both know something happened at Picking. I pray you remember soon, but since I don’t know if you’ll return…
What? What does he think I’ll do instead? Marry his brother?
The knock on my door startles me, but since my thoughts are still on Tate, I rise without hesitation. Only there is no one there.
I peer down the hall, and someone slips around the next corner. I hesitate, but when I reach out with my senses and find Tate moving in the same direction as the person who knocked, my curiosity is piqued.
I grab the dagger from my nightstand and rush out the door, with the letter still in my hand.
My bare feet are soundless on the cold marble floor. My nightgown is too thin for the chilly night and definitely not proper, but that is not enough to make me turn around.
I move swiftly. Twice more I spot movement ahead of me, and we are still moving toward Tate. Another set of footsteps has me slowing down. I creep around the next corner, but the corridor is empty apart from the curtains on a window and a few statues evenly spaced along the wall.
I pause. This is stupid. What am I even doing here? I’m just about to turn around when someone steps out of a corridor to the side, not ten steps in front of me. I freeze.
It’s Frederick. He pauses, and I squeeze my eyes shut, already searching for a reasonable explanation, but the questions never come.
His footsteps move away, and my eyes fly open just in time to see him step through a door into the same room Tate has to be in.
He leaves the door ajar. I creep closer, and the murmur of voices reaches my ear.
At first, I can only make out a few words. “Coldhearted bastard … father … hiding.”
I debate whether to turn around or go in, then Frederick mentions my name, and I move closer.
“Don’t you…” Tate starts, but Frederick talks over him.
“Don’t pretend you care, I know you too well for that. She is not your type. The women you used to be with were prettier, more polished, more obedient, softer…” The sneer of the seamstress pops back in my mind, the gazes of a hundred strangers taking my measure at the ball last night.
I shake my head. This is stupid, Tate told me I was beautiful. “But what made her irresistible is her brother’s position, isn’t it?” Frederick’s voice is scathing. “It’s rather brilliant. Fuck his sister, gain his loyalty, and then use my own army to take back your throne.”
I jerk back like someone kicked me. No, that can’t be true. He didn’t even know who I was before… But he met your brother before he took you to bed , a tiny voice disagrees.
I shake my head in denial, but my stomach is heavy. I bite my lip, straining my ears, willing him to disagree to make this better, but it gets worse.
“So she is good between the sheets? That’s a relief.” Frederick’s words make me sick. I press a hand to my stomach as bile rises in my throat.
“She means nothing to me.” Tate’s voice is cold, controlled, and foreign. There is a pause. “You were right. I used her for her connections. But I got tired of her…” His words strike my heart with brutal decision, slicing it into bloody ribbons. Blood pounds in my ears.
But how could I have been so wrong? Why then, acting the way he did with Morgan?
“What can I say? I’m not good at sharing.” Tate answers that question as if he heard me. “Even if she is nothing but a willing body in my bed.”
No.
I stagger.
He can’t, how can… I shake my head, trying desperately to explain away what I just heard. How could I have been so wrong about him? But no matter how I twist and turn the words, I can’t change their meaning.
A whimper claws its way up my throat, and I press a hand over my mouth to hold it in. Then I back away, nearly stumbling in my haste.
How could I have been so blind? A spiky little ball grows in my throat, making it hard to swallow, to breathe. My hands shake as I watch flames devour the letter that had still been clutched in my hand. It shrinks and blackens until it is no more than ash, marring my skin.
I turn and run. The icy cold of the floor seeps into my bones.
He used me.
The sentence hammers in my brain like his betrayal pulses through my body. How could I have been so stupid? How could I believe someone would overlook my curse and my secrets to put me first?
I should have known better. Power and family ties, that’s what it always comes down to—priorities.
I wrench open the door to my room, and when I push it closed behind me, my hand leaves a perfect imprint on the wood.
My nightgown smolders, and I stare at it numbly while brown flowers bloom on the light fabric, black follows, before glowing lines eat away at it. It looks pretty.
I snap out of it when flames dance over my skin, realizing I will set the room on fire if I don’t do something. I rush to the bathing chamber, turn the shower to cold, and drop to the floor beneath it. The water hisses as it hits my skin, filling the room with steam. Smothering me, hiding me.
He used me.
I watch the water disappear down the drain while I fight to control the flames swirling around me. My nightdress is mostly black now and plastered to my skin. Inky trails run down my body and over the floor to the drain. I watch them curl and writhe and vanish.
I don’t even realize the flames are gone until Solaris’s screech pierces the icy numbness.
“Turn off the water right now, or I will burn down this damn palace.”
“Go ahead. I don’t care,” I tell him, but turn off the water anyway. I’m shivering, my body too cold to move. Maybe I’ll just stay here.
“No, you won’t. You’ll come out here this instant, or I will make good on my threat,” he snaps. I try to rise, but I’m so damn weak that my legs buckle.
“Now, Ara.” His command rips through me, so menacing that I don’t question it and start crawling.
“I’m coming, you bossy bastard of a Phoenix,” I grumble. “Why didn’t I see it?”
“You can cry, rant, scream all you want … once you are out here.”
I pull myself up on the frame of the glass door, stumbling out as soon as I unlock it, right into Solaris. I sigh when his heat hits me. He is in full flame and gently envelops me with his wings.
“Don’t do that again,” he spits. “You nearly drowned your flame.”
“My what?”
“Your inner flame. Dragons and Phoenixes have them, and it seems you do too. If your body temperature becomes too low, it will extinguish and you’ll die.”
“I’m sorry.” I bury my face in his side.
“You are fine, and had I known, I would have warned you. You can cry now,” he croons, his wing pulling me closer. I wish I could, but the tears are a frozen lump in my throat, pulsing painfully and making it hard to breathe and swallow.
Soothing, gentle memories wash over me. Images of a forest, Solaris growing up, other Phoenixes—probably his parents. All of it is light and calming, and I slip into his mind, leaving the pain behind, until it can’t touch me anymore.
Dawn breaks and brightens, the castle starts to buzz with activity, and I feel strangely removed from everything.
Ana enters and gasps when she catches sight of me, but I only shrug, not offering an explanation.
I let her fuss over me, sitting like a puppet on the chair she pushed me on. I refuse the dress she wants to put me in and grab a thin tunic and pants instead. Ignoring her protest.
When my brother comes to get me for breakfast, I go through all the motions, but everything flows past me, not connecting to the hollowness inside me. My smile feels brittle, my movements mechanical.
I’m a puppet playing a role in a game I no longer care for.
Tate isn’t at breakfast, which is a relief. I’m not ready to face him. I pick at my food, not eating much and not tasting anything.
I absently rub at the ache behind my sternum, but stop when I catch my brother’s worried look.
“I’m going to train,” I tell him as soon as I can excuse myself and rush out into the courtyard. I silently step behind a group of guards and join their training.
They don’t seem to notice me, and I’m grateful for that. I focus on the movements of the man in front of me and shut out everything else. I keep a steady distance while we run laps around the palace wall. The impact of my feet and the warming of my muscles are soothingly familiar.
Exercises for conditioning follow. The men give me curious looks at first, but I don’t meet their gaze, and I’m relieved when they ignore me after a while.
A thin sheen of sweat coats my skin, my breath comes heavier and faster, and I’m determined to push through.
Perhaps exhausting my body will stop the swirling thoughts in my head that I can’t seem to escape.
“Pair up for sparring,” an older man commands, then looks at me, sizing me up. “I’m up for a round or two if you want, Lady Blackstone,” he offers, and everyone falls silent. I know they all want to know my answer.
“There is no need, Corin. I’ll spar with her.” I close my eyes and do my best to suppress a groan at the voice coming from behind me.