Page 47 of A Fate in Flames

Flames roared to life—torches flaring along the stone walls and fire pits bursting into brilliance.Shadows scattered like frightened insects, chased away by the inferno of his will.Heat licked at my skin, yet it wasnothingcompared to the fire pulsing off him in waves.

Every step he took sent a ripple of power through the earth.It was unbearable yet intoxicating.Everyone bowed in unison as he passed, their heads lowered, and hands pressed over their chests in unwavering devotion.

Jasila’s grip tightened painfully, her claws sinking into my flesh.Urging me to bow before it was too late.

But I couldn’t move.I could only watch.

The king towered over them all.He was carved from war itself—power and violence sculpted into a form so devastatingly perfect it stole my breath away.

The flickering firelight danced across him, tracing the deep grooves of muscle along his chest and arms.A dark cloth draped artfully over one broad shoulder before wrapping at his waist, while dark leathers covered his legs.Bracers encased his forearms, adorned with ancient embellishments that gleamed with each movement.Around his neck hung chains and relics, old and heavy with meaning.

His presence was a storm.The weight of him pressed against me, against all of us, a crushing force that bent reality to accommodate his existence.

My chest tight with something between terror and awe.

Still, my treacherous body betrayed me.My lashes fluttered as I dared to glance upward.

His dark hair was bound loosely, strands falling from the leather tie that held his braid together.The sharp cut of his jaw was shadowed with an unruly beard, framing his face that was both devastatingly royal and utterly savage.

He sensed my gaze and turned.

The moment his dark, ancient eyes met mine, a sharp gasp tore from my lips.The sound was lost in the vast space yet deafening to my own ears.It was not just the sheer power that bled from him, nor the raw might that made my legs weak.

No.

It washim.

The figure that haunted my dreams.The presence that had lingered in the shadows of my nightmares.My heart stuttered as something buried deep within me stirred.

His nostrils flared, his sculpted lips curling into a snarl of disgust and fury.A deep growl rumbled from his chest.

I had made a mistake.

I should’ve looked away.

I should’ve bowed.

But it was too late.

A ripple of shock spread through the gathered Jinn.My disrespect—my failure to bow immediately—had not gone unnoticed.

The crushing pressure of their stares sank into me from all angles.Jasila let out a frustrated huff, her slender fingers twitching uncontrollably, fighting the urge to grab me and force me down into submission.

Yet the true danger, the one that set my veins alight with terror, washim.

The king’s stare bore into me, blistering as fire.His fury lashed at me in invisible waves, each pulse a silent threat.I thought I might combust into nothingness under the sheer force.

I lowered my head into a bow, fighting the overwhelming urge to continue staring.

He stood motionless for three agonising heartbeats, then slowly turned his head forward and walked away.

All eyes were still on me, burning with judgement.I wanted tothrow upunder the attention.Thankfully, one by one, they faced their king, their collective forces shifting as he ascended his throne.

It loomed at the far end of the hall, framed by two colossal braziers that bled fire into the darkness.The throne was sculpted from gleaming obsidian, its surface laced with etchings of long-forgotten symbols that twisted along the frame.The armrests were shaped into serpents with jewelled eyes catching the firelight, quivering like living things.They seemed to watch—to wait, as though anticipating a command from their master.

Even hischairradiated dominance.

I forced myself to lookanywherebut at him.