Page 4 of A Storm of Fire and Ash

I chuffed, “Yeah, okay. Dragons haven’t existed for centuries.”

He shrugged, “I beg to differ. My father says they still exist; they are just really good at hiding because they don’t want to be found.”

Gods, that would be amazing if those magnificent creatures actually did still exist…

I shook off the weight of those thoughts, surprised I had shared such an intimate part of my past. Turning to him, I caught the pity in his eyes, and it made me want to crawl out of my skin.

Just then, he reached up, brushing a crumb from my lips with a warmth that sent a shiver of electricity coursing through me.

“What you said, that has to be the most real thing I have ever heard anyone say…” he whispered like a prayer through the night, his voice sincere. At that moment, the world around us faded away, and everything changed.

“Mother said it’s just my sadness—the shadows encroaching on my mind.

But deep down, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s something entirely different.

The urge to soar. It doesn’t feel like darkness; it feels like liberation.

” I chuckled to myself, feeling embarrassed that I just shared that information with the prince, of all people.

I turned to face the prince, ready to see him bolt once he realized how broken I was.

He just stared at me in silence for a moment.

“Gods... your eyes. Has anyone ever told you that you have the prettiest eyes? I have never seen anything like them.” We locked gazes, suspended in a moment that felt like an eternity.

Landen always said my eyes make me look otherworldly, but I’ve never had anyone—let alone a Prince— tell me they were pretty.

I cleared my throat—an action meant to break the tension—and leaned back on my elbows, fixing my eyes on the horizon, unable to withstand the intensity of his taunting stare any longer.

“Growing up, some kids had thrown rocks at me, claiming I was a... witch,” I hesitated with the word.

“Witch” was a derogatory name for a Mage and was quite an insult.

“If only they could have seen you now...” he whispered.

I snorted. Yeah, if only.

As we devoured our hand pies, warmth and laughter enveloped us, and I found myself swept away in the ebb and flow of our conversation.

We talked for hours.

He shared tales of his tumultuous childhood, painting vivid pictures of the suffocating castle walls that had confined him and the bitterness he felt toward his father, a man whose throne he had no desire to inherit.

He told me about his daunting training and how he had to be the very best at everything—that explained his incredibly muscular form.

I became utterly absorbed in Fintan, his words wrapping around me like a delicate tapestry, and for a fleeting moment, I nearly forgot the very reason I had ventured into the market that day.

“Why were you crying?” he questioned, his voice a soft murmur that cut through the stillness between us.

“Hmm?” I replied, caught off guard.

“You mentioned crying when you first stumbled upon this place. What was troubling you?” His striking brown eyes sparkled under the golden sunlight, revealing dazzling flecks that danced like tiny stars within their depths.

He was actually listening… to me. No one ever paid attention to me.

“Oh, um,” I hesitated, choosing my words with care as a storm brewed in my chest. “It was the day my father was taken from us. It was an incredibly challenging time for my mother and me, as if we were cast adrift in a storm of sorrow. Watching my mom break under the weight of grief was the most excruciating part of it all. It’s like I could feel her pain, plus my own, and I just couldn’t stand the pain any longer.

Since that day, I return to this place—my sanctuary—every single day.

I come here to escape the relentless ache, to feel the sharp edges of my memories, and to ponder whether this deep-seated pain makes living worthwhile… ”

Fintan gently placed his hand over mine, and I felt a warm current of energy flow through me as though his touch could mend what was broken.

“What is life if we cannot feel both the elation and the heartache?” he said softly, his voice sincere.

“I’m truly sorry for what my father has done.

He is not a good man.” He paused, his gaze searching mine, and I could see a flicker of understanding as he leaned in closer, bridging the distance between us.

“I could… I could find your father and talk to him if you’d like. ”

My eyes widened in disbelief, a rush of emotions swirling within me. “You would do that?!” I exclaimed, my voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

He grinned, a warm, disarming smile spreading across his face. “I have a feeling I would do anything for you,” he replied, his tone earnest and sincere.

I was at a loss for words, utterly shocked by his bold declaration.

My heart raced as I instinctively cleared my throat, searching for something, anything to say.

“You don’t even know me,” I retorted, my voice steadying though uncertainty lingered beneath.

“What if I were just waiting to push you off the cliffside?”

He burst into laughter, a rich, infectious sound that filled the air around us. His head tilted back, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with each chuckle, a strange, magnetic pull urging me to trace my tongue along his throat.

“I have a feeling you won’t do that,” he said, still chuckling.

I raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Don’t tempt me, Golden Boy,” I countered, a playful challenge sparking in my eyes.

“You won’t... especially not after what I just told you I would do for you. Unless, of course, you don’t want me to pass a message to your father?”

“No! I do!” I practically jumped up, leaning forward to face my entire body toward him. “I want you to give him a message.”

Fintan raised his eyebrows. “And what is the message you would like me to tell him?”

I tread carefully, not wanting the prince to know I planned on sneaking in to free my father. “Tell him…” I paused and bit my lower lip, catching his attention. Fintan’s eyes kept going from my mouth back to my eyes. “Tell him it will be alright, and that… and that I will find a way to free him.”

Fintan’s expression changed, not in a bad way, but a curious one. I could tell he was pondering something. “You know I could have your head for trying to free one of our prisoners?”

I swallowed hard as he said ‘our prisoners’. Shit. I started to sweat. I shouldn’t have said that! I’m so stupid.

Fintan flashed his dimples and stroked my cheek, “I’m only joking, El, relax.” He paused and then asked, “What’s in it for me?”

Crap, I hadn’t thought that through… I had nothing to give him.

“You have everything you could possibly want. I—I don’t have anything to offer you,” I responded, irritation creeping into my voice as I crossed my arms defensively.

He leaned back slightly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “I may have a lot of things, Elara, but I don’t have everything I need,” he replied, his voice low and velvety as he looked me up and down.

I blushed.

“How about a kiss?”

You’ve got to be joking.

Laughter bubbled up from deep within me, escaping in a series of rich, unrestrained laughs. I threw my head back, my shoulders shaking with the force of my amusement.

He joined in, his laughter deep and infectious.

“A kiss? What, are you twelve?”

But then the laughter faded from his eyes, replaced by something more serious.

Oh crap, I’d offended him. The weight of my words sat heavily on my chest; I could kick myself for being so stupid. I knew I would beat myself up about this later.

“Perhaps, I’ll bend you over and fuck you right here, in this open field, for anyone to see us,” He licked his lips.

Oh gods, yes please!

My mouth fell open, and heat exploded throughout my body. I had never been spoken to in such a way before.

Before I could even say anything, he continued. “Elara…” His voice dropped an octave, deep and resonant, sending goosebumps racing across my skin. He hooked his finger under my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “I’m not joking. Kiss me.” He leaned in closer, the space between us evaporating.

His breath, warm and invigorating, brushed against my lips, and I caught a whiff of him—sandalwood mingled with cedar, an intoxicating scent. My eyes fluttered shut, and when I opened them again, his lips hovered just a whisper away from mine. “Right here, right now.”

I wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on mine.

Heat crept up to my face and down between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together. Fintan’s eyes dropped as if he understood what I was doing, and he smiled. My body buzzed with electricity again.

Before I could catch my breath, a figure emerged from the shadows of the dense woods—a man on a magnificent black horse, his silver hair cascading behind him like a shimmering waterfall caught in the breeze.

The air crackled with an electric energy that coursed through my veins, but just as quickly as it ignited within me, it dissipated.

I instinctively leaped away from Fintan, who caught my gaze, eyes wide with both urgency and concern. Without hesitation, he stood and then offered his hand, which I grasped as I rose to my feet beside him.

The rider drew closer, the resonance of his horse’s hooves echoing in the stillness of the forest. “Zayn, what can I do for you?” Fintan’s voice betrayed a hint of annoyance as he regarded his guard.

Zayn.

“You are needed at the palace, Your Highness,” Zayn responded, his tone dripping with what I felt was condescension.