Page 36

In three days, Mal Blackburn would be bound to Ash Acheron, tied to him by vows she had never wished to utter.

The weight of it sat heavy in her stomach, coiling tight.

She had expected worse, she supposed. The man she had been forced to marry had not turned out to be the cruel, merciless creature the whispers had painted him to be.

But that did not mean she knew him. He was still a stranger.

Ash was quiet, always on the edges of the world. He had not sought her out, had not attempted to bridge the chasm between them. Instead, he kept to the training yards, his days swallowed by steel and sweat, his nights spent in hushed conversations with his men.

The Champions’ Battle had revealed his skill.

There was no doubt—he was a warrior worthy of any battlefield.

But the thrill she had felt when fighting him, the rush of adrenaline that had lit her veins like wildfire, had slowly faded into something duller, something emptier.

Would this be their marriage? Would their only interactions take place in the sparring ring, the clang of metal the only words exchanged between them?

Would he ever speak to her beyond duty, beyond obligation? Would he ever truly see her?

Mal had waited, but the seat beside her remained empty.

Across the grand banquet hall sat Ash, on the other side of the room.

She had given him time, had willed him to cross the space between them, to come to her, to start something—anything—before the weight of marriage was forced upon them.

But he did not. He whispered only to his sister or the ever-present guard at his side, a silent shadow trailing his every step.

Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps if she did not truly know him, it would be easier to do what had to be done.

So why did it bother her so much that he ignored her?

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

‘I believe we have not met.’

Mal glanced up, chin still resting against her palm—an inelegant pose for a princess, she was certain, but she cared little for propriety. Her gaze fell upon the prince from the Kingdom of Light.

‘I’m afraid to disappoint you, but we have already met.’

Zahian Noor grinned, the amusement in his expression flickering like embers.

He was beautiful in a way that fascinated her—not for his drakonian strength or wyverian wildness, but for his strangeness.

He had no horns. A prince with no horns.

The thought amused her. His black hair was thick and shining, curling slightly at the ends, and his reddish-brown skin seemed kissed by an eternal sun. But his eyes… oh, his eyes.

Phoenixians were famed for them—deep, rich, red eyes, like the feathers of a phoenix.

‘We have met formally, princess,’ he said in a thick accent, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. ‘But that does not count.’

His robes were white, edged in gold, the flowing cotton of House of Sun. The phoenixians and drakonians had always been intertwined, worshippers of the same god, their kingdoms built upon heat and fire.

It was said that the Kingdom of Light was a paradise, a land where skies were streaked with the vivid colours of phoenix wings, where the streets were lined with palm trees and temples, and the scent of spice and incense clung to the air like a lover’s embrace.

‘Is it true you have phoenixes as large as horses?’ she asked, her curiosity slipping past her restraint. Perhaps he had brought one with him.

‘And bigger,’ Zahian replied, pride gleaming in his expression. ‘We fly on them.’

Mal’s eyes widened.

Without hesitation, Zahian vaulted over the table in a single fluid motion and landed beside her, far too close.

‘It cannot surprise a wyverian princess so much when you ride beasts larger than dragons,’ he teased, voice low.

Mal smiled .

‘It is true, but a phoenix sounds so… different. Is it true their feathers sometimes spark?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do they only have fire when they are about to die?’

‘No, no.’ Zahian shook his head, laughing. ‘Those are just tales. Ours can summon their flames if they wish. But usually only for battle. Though, when they are about to die, they turn to ash… and are reborn again.’

A chair scraped against the stone floor.

The sound was sharp, cutting through their conversation like a blade. Mal turned her head just in time to see Ash dragging his chair from across the hall. He placed it on the other side of her table, sat, and stared.

Zahian did not move. He simply leaned back, spreading his legs open comfortably, his red eyes flashing with mischief .

‘Something wrong?’ Mal asked.

Ash shook his head.

Zahian smirked, then turned back towards Mal, tilting his head until his lips were just a breath away from hers.

‘I believe the prince wishes to learn about my kingdom,’ he said. Mal’ s attention fell to Zahian’s lips, a mistake. The air in the room thickened . Heat swelled, a suffocating weight, coiling around her throat.

She turned towards Ash .

His golden eyes burnt—not with fire, but with something close to anger .

Mal exhaled slowly, leaning back, creating a sliver of space between herself and the phoenixian. The heat lessened as Ash’s shoulders relaxed, but only slightly.

Zahian, undeterred, reached for her hand, fingers brushing against her skin.

‘Do you wish to dance?’

‘No, she doesn’t,’ Ash grunted .

Both men stood. A table was all that separated them.

The tension was a living thing .

And then—

Kai appeared.

Mal barely had time to sigh before her troublesome brother took in the scene, sniffed the air dramatically, and pulled a face.

‘It smells like testosterone.’ He grinned at her. ‘Mal, why don’t you come along and dance with your dear brother.’ He extended an arm.

Mal did not hesitate. She took his offer and slipped away from the princes, casting one last glance over her shoulder.

‘What is wrong with the Fire Prince?’ she muttered as they moved onto the dance floor.

Kai snorted . ‘ Well, sister, I’ll explain.’ He twirled her. ‘Men do not like other men sniffing what’s theirs.’

Mal stomped on his foot. Hard .

‘I am not his.’

Kai winced. ‘I am glad to hear you haven’t fallen enraptured by his golden good looks.’ He arched a brow. ‘ Or have you?’

Mal lifted her chin.

‘I do not fall so easily, brother.’

The banquet hall was unlike the other places they had celebrated. It was smaller, more intimate , its walls lined with vines dotted with soft, glowing lights. The arches on one side led into the gardens, where the night air carried the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance.

Mal turned, catching sight of Ash again.

He was watching her.

Expressionless . Unreadable.

But his eyes… those golden, fire-filled eyes…

They held something. Something she could not name.

‘This place is beautiful, is it not?’ she mused, turning back to Kai.

His brows furrowed.

‘It is indeed, sister.’ He pulled her close, voice lower now. ‘However… all that glitters is not gold.’