Page 61

Ash swallowed, forcing words past the knot in his throat. ‘A k-king…’ his voice faltered, but he pushed through, jaw clenched. ‘A k-king cannot f-fear s-speaking in public. A k-king cannot s-stutter. A king must be strong.’

Mal tilted her head, considering him. ‘A king,’she said, ‘can be whatever he chooses to be. That is what makes him a king. And strength, Fire Prince, comes in many forms.’

She turned away, opening the doors and summoning a passing maid.

She ordered food for them both, declaring they would dine in their chambers.

Then she seated herself at the breakfast table, the breeze threading through her wild curls.

She looked unburdened. Untamed. A woman who had never let the world break her, even when it had tried.

The knock came minutes later, and the door swung open to reveal a small procession of servants carrying golden trays laden with food.

Ash watched, expression unreadable, as Mal reached for a roasted chicken leg with all the grace of a warrior unsheathing a blade.

She bit into it unceremoniously, utterly unbothered by the delicate etiquette of queens and princesses.

Ash’s gaze flickered to the plate before her—a spread of charred meat, seeping dark juices. Rotten. The kind of food wyverians thrived upon.

Mal caught his stare and smirked. ‘To each their own,’ she said, swallowing. ‘I imagine drakonians have their own… repulsive delicacies. We were raised on stories that you feasted on infants.’

Ash’s stomach lurched. ‘That is revolting.’

Mal shrugged, tearing off another piece of meat.

For a while, they ate in silence, until in a voice too casual to be careless, she asked, ‘Why do they call you a cruel prince?’

Ash’s grip on his fork tightened.‘W-who calls me that?’ Mal’s lips curved, but she did not answer.

He sighed, gaze dropping to his plate. ‘The world s-sees what it wishes to s-see. It sees a q-quiet prince that spends his t-time alone or with his men and be-believe he must be up to no good. So they deem him as c-cruel.’

He had never spoken this much in front of her before.

But Mal did not flinch at his stutter. She did not shift uncomfortably or cast her gaze downward.

She simply listened. And for the first time, Ash wondered if perhaps the weight of his words mattered more than the way they stumbled from his lips.

‘They see a girl with wild hair and bare feet and deem her a savage,’ Mal replied, leaning back in her chair.

Ash lifted his gaze to hers, something unreadable stirring in his chest. ‘I suppose we are all as b-bad as each other. We see what we wish to s-see.’

She tilted her head, studying him from across the table.

‘And what do you see, husband?’

His chest tightened.

A pause.

And then, in a voice steadier than he thought himself capable of, he answered, ‘You.’

…

Alina had missed her brother’s speech. She had run through the winding corridors of the castle, her skirts tangling around her legs, her breath burning in her lungs, but by the time she reached the Grand Hall, it was already empty.

The echoes of murmured conversations trailed through the castle like ghosts, whispers of what had transpired reaching her ears before she could even ask.

Her brother had stood before them all, had tried to force words past his lips, and failed. He had faltered, had suffered, and she had not been there.

Instead, she had been in the woods, with Kai.

A sickening wave rolled through her stomach. Alina stumbled into the gardens, bracing herself against the nearest bush, and retched.

What is wrong with me?

She was to be married to Prince Zahian, bound to duty, and yet she had let another man touch her—had wanted him to.

The rules of her kingdom forbade her from wielding a sword, and yet there she was, sneaking into the woods, training in secret.

Her brother had needed her, and she had abandoned him for the taste of stolen wyverian fire.

The Queen would throw her in the dungeons if she ever found out.

A voice, cool and amused, drifted towards her. ‘It would seem your brother’s wife is not as unkind as some would think.’

Alina turned sharply, wiping her mouth as Princess Flora Hawthorne approached, her emerald gown shimmering against the sunlight.

‘She swooped right in to give his speech for him,’ Flora continued, tilting her head in admiration.

‘My brother sometimes gets a little overwhelmed—’

‘Oh, do not worry, princess.’ Flora waved a dismissive hand, her dark skin glowing beneath the afternoon sun. ‘In my kingdom we do not judge. A butterfly is still beautiful even if it has a crumpled wing. Beauty should not be measured by looks, do you not agree?’

‘I think that is rather easy to say when the person saying it is deemed beautiful.’

Flora laughed, a soft, lilting sound, before looping her arm through Alina’s, guiding her into a gentle stroll through the gardens. ‘Let’s go for a stroll. Do not worry about your brother. He is in good hands.’

‘He may need me.’ Alina hesitated, glancing back towards the castle.

Flora’s expression softened. ‘I am sure he does. But his wife stepped in and is now with him. I would let them be.’ She pointed at the garden. ‘It would be rather foolish to not make the most of the day. It is rather exquisite.’

Alina swallowed, nodding stiffly as she bit her lip.

‘Are you excited about your engagement to prince Zahian?’

Alina’s eyes strayed towards Zahian, who stood by one of the fountains, speaking to a desert princess with the ease of a man accustomed to admiration. Her throat tightened. ‘Of course. I am truly honoured to have been granted such privilege.’

Flora leaned in, her breath warm against Alina’s ear. ‘You might want to rehearse more, princess. It is not really believable.’

Alina’s blood ran cold. She turned to the Fae princess, searching her face for malice, for amusement, for anything that might betray her intentions.

Flora only smiled. ‘Do not worry. I won’t tell anyone. I think almost everyone knows you do not truly wish to marry the prince. Oath marriages have began again and soon we will all be married off to other kingdoms as we did all those years ago.’

‘You are lucky, I suppose. You are to be a queen. No one can take you away from your kingdom.’

Flora’s smile thinned, turning into something unreadable. Before Alina could apologise, before she could take back the sting of her words, Flora’s gaze shifted past her.

Kai Blackburn was making his way through the gardens.

Flora’s lips twitched, as if she had unraveled something Alina had tried so desperately to keep hidden.

‘I shall leave you to it, then.’ She unlinked her arm and stepped away, but before disappearing, she added in a whisper, ‘Do not let them clip your wings.’

Alina barely had time to process her words before Kai was upon her, his steps quick, purposeful, unstoppable. Her heart slammed against her ribs. No . Not now.

She turned abruptly and strode in the opposite direction.

‘Princess.’

She ignored him and forced a smile for the noblewomen who turned their heads in curiosity, willing herself to keep walking.

But Kai was faster. His fingers wrapped around her arm, pulling her towards him, turning her to face him with a force that sent heat rushing up her spine.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ she hissed, her voice low, trembling.

‘What am I doing?’ Kai’s breath was warm against her ear. ‘You are the one that ran off as if the seven demons of the underworld had come for you.’

‘I was in a hurry.’

‘You were running away—from me .’

Alina released herself from him. ‘No, I was not.’

‘Then why—’

‘Because it was a mistake.’ Her voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut between them like a blade.

‘I am to be married. I am to leave my home to be taken to another. It was a one time occurrence and I felt trapped in my life, and I wanted to kiss you. But that is all. Now we can continue on as if nothing happened.’

‘I don’t want to pretend nothing happened.’

Alina glanced around at the watching eyes, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into the nearest corridor, down a quiet hallway where the air was thick with shadows. ‘Well, you must. In a few weeks you will be returning home.’

‘Then come with me.’

Alina’s breath stilled in her chest. She looked up at him, her mind roaring at the impossibility of his words. She searched his face for jest, for something that would prove he wasn’t serious.

But there was only sincerity. And something far more dangerous—hope.

Her lips parted, but she had no words. Could she? Could she forsake everything—her duty, her name, her kingdom—to follow this man into the unknown?

Kai reached up, brushing a stray strand of golden hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. His lips ghosted over hers, and fire curled deep in her belly. She wanted to taste him again, to burn in him. Right here, in this hall, in this cursed castle, she wanted to be his.

But instead, she placed trembling hands against his chest, pushing him away.

‘I can’t, Kai.’ His brows furrowed, his lips parting to argue, but she continued before he could speak. ‘If I do that, what difference will there be? I’ll still be a princess sent off to another land, without purpose.’

Kai’s breath hitched.‘You won’t. You will be choosing.’ His dark eyes searched hers, desperate, pleading. ‘You will be choosing me .’

Alina’s chest ached. She had never heard his voice so raw, so fragile.

She lifted a hand, pressed it to his cheek, let her fingers memorise the shape of his face.

‘But for once,’ she whispered, her voice breaking. ‘I want to choose me .’