Page 49 of A Storm of Fire and Ash

Misundranaryan’s voice slid through the shadows of my mind, deep and resonant, the words curled like smoke. “Flameborn.”

The darkness shifted, and there it was again—that massive iron door, its surface etched with silver symbols that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. But this time… this time, in the dream, it opened.

A whisper stirred behind me, soft and achingly familiar.

My mother’s voice. “I think your parents were more than just Fae.” Her words tangled with my own thoughts, with the memory of the Mage book that had claimed Mage Hand was not summoned, it was born.

I remembered the magic flowing so easily through my fingers, as natural as breathing.

The floor beneath me shifted, stone turning rough and damp. A cave. The air was heavy here, smelling faintly of ash and something older than the realms themselves.

From the shadows, a white-scaled nose emerged, the same one I had glimpsed before—its sheer size enough to blot out the space between us. Then came the flames, roaring around me but not touching me, and through the fire I heard Zayn’s voice—low, certain. “Dragon blood. Elementara Fae.”

Misundranaryan’s rumble followed, vibrating through my bones. “Yes… Flameborn.”

I reached out my hand, unafraid. And in that moment, the truth unfurled inside me like a banner catching the wind. I knew what I was—what I had always been.

“I know what you are,” I whispered.

“I know what you are.” He paused. “Say what I am.” His deep voice roared.

The word fell from my lips without hesitation. “Dragon.”

My eyes flew open. The dream dissolved, and I was back in the quiet warmth of the real world, my body curled into Zayn’s chest, his steady heartbeat anchored me to the present.

I blinked against the soft morning light that spilled across the wreckage of the room. My head still felt hazy, the dream lingering like embers in my chest.

Zayn stirred behind me, his bare chest warm on my back.

His voice came low and drowsy, curling around me like silk.

“Morning, Peach,” he murmured. I turned to face him, his fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from my face.

“You know, you’ve ruined me. You got me thinking about you all day long—from the second I wake up to the second my day is done—not a moment passes that I don’t think of you.

Crave you. Even in my dreams, you’re there.

” His gaze held mine, slow and deliberate.

“Your eyes… are remarkable enough to make even a god pause.”

Heat bloomed in my cheeks, though I tried to mask it with a smirk. I tilted my head up and kissed him.

We lay tangled together, skin to skin, the air still humming faintly with the aftermath of what we had done last night—six times.

The magic we had unleashed hadn’t simply faded; it lingered, swirling faintly in the corners, glimmering like dust motes made of glitter.

Every so often, the air crackled as though the room itself remembered.

The space bore the evidence of our storm.

The armoire stood shattered, one of its doors hanging from a single hinge.

Clothes lay strewn, glass gleamed across the floor in dangerous little constellations, and the bed—well, the bed had clearly lost the battle, its frame splintered and listing to one side.

A laugh burst from me, unexpected and bubbling. “Yara is going to be pissed with this mess.”

His grin was slow. “You’re confident Yara and Kalista won’t say anything about what you are?”

I nodded. “They won’t.” I paused. “But the Prince… I’m not so sure, honestly.”

Zayn’s demeanor shifted at the mention of Fintan. “I’ll talk with him.”

I rubbed Zayn’s hard chest. “He isn’t going to be happy. We had a lot of words exchanged last night. I was so close to freeing Father…”

Zayn kissed my forehead. “I know, Peach. We will get him out. I promise.”

“We have to get him out today. Will you help me?”

“It would be my honor to help you,” he smiled, and my heart nearly sank at how beautiful he was.

“Do you know anything of a dragon?” I asked suddenly.

Zayn’s body stiffened. “Yes. Do you?”

“Uhm, well… I’ve been having these dreams. And um… also someone—some… thing—has been talking to me in my head since the day I was whipped.”

I looked into Zayn’s eyes, and he didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Yes. There was talk that King Aymon has a dragon here somewhere and plans on using him to destroy the Fae lands.” I gasped. “What are your dreams like?”

I told him everything, and he told me about his.

“What do you think that means? Do you think they are… friendly?” I asked.

Zayn kissed my forehead, “I have many theories, but friendly isn’t one of them,” he chuckled. “You know what you truly are, don’t you?”

He didn’t need to say the words. I knew. And I think I’ve known for a while. So I just nodded.

“The thrones are yours, Elara. You are the rightful heir to them all and when you walk into the Fae lands, your magic will call to the fates and you’ll be marked heir to the thrones.

” Zayn’s voice was a dark promise against my ear.

“I’ll burn kingdoms to ash to see you on them…

and then I’ll kneel—not only in surrender, but to worship the queen who owns me. ”

I guess I never really thought about the other thrones… I’ve been so focused here at Irongate with everything, the Fae realms never even crossed my mind. Did I want this? I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t even sure if I could take the thrones… if I stood a chance against the other Kings.

I rested my chin on his chest, tracing the lines of muscle beneath my fingertips. Changing the subject, I said, “Tell me about your mother.”

The shift in his expression was subtle but warm. “She’s… lovely. Gentle. Her heart is pure in a way that feels impossible in this world. She’s the reason I know what kindness looks like.”

“Then why is she with your father?” I asked softly.

Zayn chuckled, the sound rich and amused. “She isn’t. My mother lives in the Water Court.”

“Luminara,” I stated, and he gave a subtle nod.

“That’s where I grew up—before I became my father’s assassin and ended up in Windaria.”

“Why did you do it? Become his assassin?”

“I had no choice. I am the King’s only heir.

I needed him on my side so I could take his crown and rule Windaria, and make it a safe place for others again.

My father… he is a cruel man. Uses Mages for their magic, hunts Mer and hangs their tales like trophies in his castle, treats Non-Royals either as slaves or forces them to fight in his army. ”

“Eryndor?” I asked.

“Yeah. That’s why she is the way she is. We became friends right away. She wanted to learn to fight after my father killed her parents. Her and I came up with a plan to one day take his crown. She is loyal. And she is my best friend.”

I smiled. “She’s mine too.”

My stomach growled loud enough to make him smirk.

“Let’s go get you some food,” Zayn chuckled, his voice still rough from sleep.

I sat up, letting the cool air kiss my bare skin as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The sheets slid down my body as I stretched, toes brushing the cold stone floor.

“Or,” he drawled, his tone wicked, “maybe I feed you something else first.” Before I could reply, he grabbed me and pulled me back onto him, his heat searing against mine.

His mouth brushed my ear as he murmured, “Let me make you fall apart again, Peach. I bet I can ruin you before you take your next breath.”

His hand slid between my thighs, fingers pressing firmly against my center. My head tilted back, a moan spilling out before I could catch it.

“Gods, you sound sinful when you moan,” he said, his thumb circling me with devastating precision. His eyes locked on mine, dark and hungry. “Ride me, my Queen. Show me how desperate you still are for me.”

I didn’t hesitate. He shifted beneath me, positioning himself as I rose onto my knees. My fingers curled into his shoulders as I guided him into me, both of us groaning at the connection.

I didn’t start slow. I rode him hard, my hips rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the quick strokes of his fingers over my clit. Each pass sent sparks through me, the heat inside built into something wild and uncontrollable.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his gaze devouring me. “You take me so perfectly.” His thumb pressed harder, faster. “Come with me, baby.”

That was all it took. The world shattered around me in white-hot bliss as he spilled into me, our release colliding like fireworks.

“I love you, Elara,” he breathed, voice low but unshakable.

“I love you, Zayn,” I whispered back, my body still trembling.

We dressed quickly—Zayn in his usual all black, a shadow made flesh, and me in black leather leggings and my fitted breastplate. As I fastened the straps, a folded piece of parchment slid from the breast pocket and drifted to the floor.

Zayn scooped it up, a knowing glint in his eyes. “What’s this?”

My cheeks warmed as he unfolded it—the note he had written me. He clutched his chest dramatically. “Peach, you’re obsessed.”

I rolled my eyes, shoving past him, but before I opened the door, he stopped me. “Glamour, baby. We have to put it back up.”

I almost forgot. Being in my true form made me feel like—me. Whole. Complete. I didn’t want to go back to being human—ever.

I sighed. “I know, I hate it too, trust me. But we have to.” He said.

“It dulls my magic, though,” I whined.

“I know. But you’ve been doing so well with it in your human form. You’ll be alright, Peach. I got you. Always.”

As we left the chamber. Our footsteps echoed down the stone staircase toward the dining hall—until shouts cut through the air. The commotion was coming from beyond the main castle doors. Then I heard it.

A scream. So loud. So crippling, I felt her pain. Her anguish, like it was my own.

We were running before I realized I’d moved.