Page 10 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)

Chapter Ten

The Lady of the Bedchamber stands amidst the charred remains of my suite the next morning, her presence slicing through the smoky air like a cold blade. Her impassive face is a testament to years spent navigating court intrigue and, I’m sure, no small number of temper tantrums and violent outbursts.

Her gaze flickers over the damage covering the entire wall, door, and floor. The chandeliers are wilted, the metal having softened during the worst of the blaze. Never once does she show any signs of judgment, good or ill.

“Your handiwork is quite…impressive.” Beneath Rhiann’s formal tone, I detect an undercurrent of dry humor, so I offer a tiny bow of my head as if accepting a compliment. “I appreciate that you didn’t burn your new gowns.”

Unintentional, since the fire started in the living space before traveling to the bedchamber, but now I understand the hidden blessing of not destroying any of Rhiann’s work.

Behind her, a troupe of wide-eyed workers hesitantly steps in, their gazes flitting between Rhiann’s composed figure and the scorched aftermath of my dream-fueled wrath. Their hands tremble as they begin to repair what my temper destroyed, though their glances toward me speak louder than their silence.

Fear colors their every move.

Once, I would have hated that. In fact, I took magic-suppressing tablets for years to ensure my power never inspired that reaction. Now, in enemy territory, it’s something I can work with.

“Another suite has been prepared for you,” she assures, her voice as smooth as the silk gowns she oversees. “Follow me, please.” There’s no hint of anger or rebuke for my destruction of the original rooms.

“Thank you.” The formality of her request hangs in the air, pressing against my shoulders like a weight.

As we exit, we pass a cluster of maids, their arms laden with garments and trinkets from the king—false tokens of care. Rhiann addresses the other women with the efficiency of a general commanding her troops.

“Ensure that Lady Lark’s belongings are transported to her new accommodations posthaste.” Her orders ring with authority, and her dark brown eyes do not miss a beat. She surveys the procession of workers and maids scurrying to obey.

We advance through the stone corridors, abandoning the smell of smoke, the taste of bitter memories, and the terror of my brush with death. The high, arched corridor echoes with the soft patter of footsteps as I follow Rhiann to my new quarters.

The three maids trail us carrying an assortment of velvets and silks, their arms overflowing with the king’s lavish gifts. I eye the finery with unease. All these luxuries only serve to remind me of last night.

I may have been dreaming, but that part rings true.

No amount of finery King Jasper supplies can change my status as a prisoner here.

A well-treated one, perhaps, but a prisoner nevertheless.

Each carefully wrapped package, every painstakingly chosen garment, is nothing but a bejeweled shackle meant to tie me just a little tighter to this place.

Rhiann gestures toward the open doors of my new suite. “Your accommodations.”

Stepping into the unfamiliar space, I sweep my gaze over the lavish setting which could be considered an upgraded copy of the one I just left.

This bed is just as large as my last one. The wardrobe has three doors instead of two. There’s a fireplace in the living area and another one in the bedchamber. The chandeliers are nearly identical, but this one’s crafted from shiny nickel instead of brass.

Which means it won’t burn quite as easily as the last.

Part of me aches to test that.

Then I glance at Rhiann and her calm, measuring eyes. “Thank you for your assistance.”

The bed linens, she tells me, including the curtains hanging from the corner posts, are made of a fine wool that appears silky soft. No doubt the material is intentional since wool is fire-resistant.

The metal frames of the windows and glass doors are also nickel. Although, something tells me I can create a fire hot enough to melt that. With just a little more effort. More time.

Wait. Is that why I was given these new rooms? Because they’re less…burnable?

I’m interrupted from watching the servants bustle around the new suite by the tromp of heavy boots.

Prince Knox strides in, his posture stiff, as if he’s been carved from the same cold stone that lines these halls.

But there’s genuine concern in his eyes. “How are you faring?”

If not for his intervention, I would have died last night. The guard outside my door left his post to eat dinner, not waiting for his replacement. Had he at least left the door unlocked, I could have escaped…wouldn’t have panicked in the first place.

I haven’t seen that guard since last night, and I’m afraid to ask what’s become of him. I didn’t know his name, but perhaps that’s for the best.

My memory gets a little fuzzy after Knox carried me from the wrecked chamber. He carried me to an empty room and summoned the healer, refusing to leave my side until Rhiann arrived and chased him out. Even then, he acted reluctant. But the king would undoubtedly be displeased if he caught wind of his brother staying the night in my room.

When Knox clears his throat, I realize I haven’t given him an answer.

“I’m fine…or I will be.” Thanks to potent tonic the healer gave me last night, my throat is no longer raw. “A little drained. But that’s all.”

He lifts his hand as if to touch my cheek but drops it before making contact. “Good.”

With an unreadable expression, he shifts away to engage Rhiann in conversation. Their words are polite and inconsequential, yet she treats him with a warmth I’ve not witnessed from her before.

I suppose they are cousins, after all.

A few minutes later, the door clicks shut behind Rhiann, and I’m left alone with Prince Knox. He hovers near the bed, evaluating me the same way I’ve seen him examine a saddle-shy alicorn.

Soot smudges his cheek, and his clothes are disheveled. Proof he never retired to his room last night to clean up and rest. Does that mean he spent the entire night sitting outside my door? My fingers itch to wipe the grime from his face, but I rein in the urge.

No more touching him. Period. That only leads to further confusion.

And what’s to say he won’t betray me again?

“Your face…” The words die on my lips as I straighten my spine. So much for my pep talk. “Thank you for saving me. I could have died.”

An agonized look flits across his features. “I’m just glad you’re all right. If anything had happened to you…”

Pleasure zings through my body before I can control it, but I manage to stomp the sensation into oblivion. “Yes, well, I imagine tracking down another dragoncaller would be a bit of a challenge.”

“Tracking down a…” A muscle tics in his jaw. “If you hadn’t just been through an ordeal, I’d turn you over my knee.”

Clearly there’s something wrong with me. Otherwise, why would that threat heat my blood up? “Aw, are you saying you’d be sad, then? If I died?”

“Sad?” His throat bobs. “That doesn’t even begin to cover what I’d feel if I lost you.”

If I lost you.

Which implies I’m his.

Though his words should irritate me, they don’t. Because I’d feel the same way if I lost him.

Devastated.

Gods, I’m so stupid.

“At any rate, I don’t believe my new admirer the king would appreciate it if you turned me over your knee.”

He growls. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?”

His hands curl into fists. “Why? Do you want it to be true?”

The fact that he’s even asking the question pisses me off. “Well, he can be rather charming at times…”

At his pained expression, a humorless laugh tumbles from my lips unbidden. “You can’t possibly believe I’m interested in your brother. I’ve known him for less than a week. He threw me to the dragons, he murders people who disagree with him, and he’s using my ability as a dragoncaller to improve his popularity. Though please don’t tell him I said that.”

“Surely you don’t think I’d betray your trust that way.”

I shoot him a wouldn’t be the first time look. “Actually…”

He holds his hand up in surrender. “I get it. I deceived you. Kidnapped you. But if I hadn’t, who knows what King Xenon would have done. At least here, I can watch out for you.”

I scoff. “You can’t just apologize, can you? Instead of saying ‘I’m sorry,’ you keep trying to explain away your lies and deceit.”

His shoulders sag. “You’re right. And I am sorry. Truly. I haven’t been in Tirene in a long time, and my brother is different than I remember him.”

“Yet you’re still following his orders. You’re still loyal to him.”

“It’s not that simple. I love my brother, and I believe he wants what’s best for this kingdom. But I don’t always agree with his methods.”

I guess Agnar was right when he told me they had a complicated relationship.

I release a sigh. “But you’re loyal to him.”

“I’m loyal to Tirene.”

“What happens if your brother does something radical? Starts killing more innocent people? Like me, for example?”

Knox snarls. “I’d never let that happen.”

Before I can respond, there’s a sharp knock and the door swings open, revealing Agnar.

Behind him, a figure emerges from the shadowed corridor. When she steps into view, my heart stumbles.

“M-mother?”