Page 16 of Where We Belong

The word pulls me to my feet like puppet strings, halting me just behind him. Forced into stillness but so deeply desperate to grip his head and twist and twist. Smoke pours from my hands, rushing toward Ashley’s limp body. Beads of sweat trickle down my neck while I wrestle for control, trying to reign it back and wrap it around Vale’s throat instead. He glances at me over his shoulder as if suddenly aware he is alone in an underground prison with two of the most dangerous fae in this universe. He circles Ashley’s chair, mimicking Theron. But his sloppy, uneven steps are punctuated by wheezing breaths, undermining any intimidation he hopes to achieve.

“Now. This next experiment will require the Princess, er—prisoner’s entire hand. So, brace yourself, girl.”

Her eyes are half closed, and her head lolls to the side, completely unaware of what is about to come. There is something unbearably gentle about her. An unguarded beauty that has no place in a world built to break things. If I could just kiss her.

“Captain, if you will, please.”

Magic yanks my foot forward. There are no weapons in sight. He intends for me to rip her hand straight off her arm. Panic flares in my chest.

“Erm, halt!” Vale stammers. I stare death into the back of his head, awaiting his next blundered command. “I have a dagger here, and something for her to bite down on.” How kind. “You’ll be fine, Princess. After all the blood Kaed has lost, he hasn’t died… yet.”

He chuckles weakly and fumbles with his belt, the dagger clattering onto the stone floor. Muttering curses under his breath, he bends down to retrieve it, but the fool stumbles over his own foot. Toppling forward. Onto Ashley’s lap. A blinding flare fills the room, and a wave of heat unlike anything I’ve felt before slams into me. It’s something glorious and something violent, and it burns through my skin like the wrath of a god. I’m thrown against the thick iron bars with enough force they bend under me, but the magic streams from her body relentlessly. My ears ring, but something is there above the blaring noise, calling me, in the distance. The bond. Gritting my teeth, I put one hand in front of the other. Ignoring the pain coursing through me. I drag myself across the floor towards her. My vision swims, and I can barely make out her figure through a bright white haze. Though her eyes are glowing an unnatural, piercing black, and her veins writhe under her skin like spilt ink. The black flame. Vale screams, his skin blistered and bloody. His bleeding eyes are clenched shut as he roots around his robes for something.

“Lock her in! Back to your chair! Do not kiss her or speak. Resist the bond,” he bellows seconds after he throws a bottle of elixir my way. The glass bottle explodes in front of me. The vapour finding its way into my nostrils. The magic takes hold of me, seeping into my mind and dulling my senses. My near-broken legs drag me upwards. Away from her. Away from the bond. I slam her cell door shut behind me. When I take my seat, pain pulsing through me, Ashley’s head is tipped back, eyes ablaze. That’s it my beautiful Princess. Unleash.

Chapter 19

Aiden

I make peace with the notion I’ll never arrive,

remaining faithful nonetheless,

We have been invited to Ember Court. The summons arrived the instant the quake broke this morning. They only request a royal presence when Feye supposedly instructs them to. By law, we must comply. If the crown was mine, that would be the first law I dismantle. Too many force their own speech into the mouth of God. I have only ever come here for religious festivals. Gilded processions, dancers in thin silks, golden flagpoles sporting prayer banners. It always felt theatrical, but this journey is solemn. It would almost be peaceful, if not for the unrest coiled in my chest. The King, clad in golden armor, leans his head against the carriage window. He spent hours soothing the palace after the quake, and his face bears the cost. The weight of a realm never suited him. Compassion strains the body in the same manner cruelty does.

Nykholas flies ahead on his stark white Pheonix, and Kian sits behind us in the carriage. Vale, however, has vanished. Again. When the blast hit, it was felt across the whole of Sheyole. The palace wards faltered, and he is needed to reinforce them. Pyrelings were sent, tiny crimson messenger birds that appear in bursts of flame, but alas, they returned with the parchments unread. The Seers assured us they will find him before we return. Our carriage lands before colossal sandstone gates engraved with pictographs, flanked by obelisks. They stretch out across the perimeter of the territory, disappearing into the heat-blurred horizon. The script above the flaming archway reads ‘Burn or Bow’ beneath their golden crest, a crown of flames. I strain to read the wondrous stories carved there, the tale of Shinihue is my favourite.

Nykholas dismounts, swatting at his neck when a Pyreling whizzes past. Hopefully the message is regarding Vale’s whereabouts. A faint frown creases his brow before he burns the parchment slip to ash with his fingertips and speaks briefly to the bare-chested guards ahead. They strike their golden spears to the ground in honour and welcome him with the delight of old comrades. He beckons our drivers forward with a smooth wink and a nod.

“My King, my Prince.” The guards bow as our carriage rolls to a stop. The flames engulfing the entrance archway burn so bright behind them I must squint. “Please step out of the carriage. We’ll begin the entrance rite.” The slender guard says. His skin is flecked with dots and lines in a marvellous geometric pattern. The King places his hand on my restless knee. A subtle reminder that panic is best experienced privately. We disembark while guards hold the pressing crowds at bay on the other side of the archway. The flames die down, and in their midst stands their leader. Nefret. Resplendent as ever. Her dark, blunt hair rests just above bare shoulders. A golden gown clings to the thick curves and rolls of her stomach, hips, and thighs. My gaze lingers too long on the soft flesh I imagine beneath my hands and teeth. She must notice because her eyes spark like flint against stone. What a mighty shame I cannot indulge.

“Please excuse my husband, he will join us in the temple.” She bows, her shadowed eyes locked on mine. “If you don’t mind.” She beckons us towards the archway, and the flames of intent blaze once more. A hush falls across the crowd before the fire parts around my uncle, turning white as he emerges on the other side. The crowd erupts into applause, and heat creeps up my neck. My turn. I know my intentions are pure, like his. And, even if they are not, they cannot take my life as is the punishment for a commoner, but these flames are said to read deep. Nykholas reckons it is a party trick, but I am not so sure. Nefret toys idly with a chain resting between her full breasts, watching me like a predator. The icy flames engulf me, threading through my bones and thoughts, as if binding them together and unbinding them again with a needle and thread. They turn the lightest shade of grey. Close enough. I exhale as the crowd cheers, only for it to be swallowed by the shrieks of females calling me. I smile and wave, just as I was taught. Let the people see a kind leader, you will gain their trust twice as fast. Nykholas follows. His flames burst into a deep, blood-red bloom, earning laughter and whistles. A mixture of passion and hatred. He bows and blows a kiss to Nefret. She rolls her eyes. It is common knowledge he holds no love for his homeland, yet no soldier serves more dutifully than he. Kian and the driver go last, both emerging in white flame.

We are escorted from the archway to a pier curving along a vast canal, the water clear as glass. A long open-air vessel awaits and the King boards first with Nefret on his arm. Priests toss handfuls of burning petals into the canal ahead of us. They hiss upon the water, trailing a path of light.

“You may notice,” Nefret says softly to Kian, whose eyes are greedily taking in everything for the first time, “the Temple can only be reached by water. Our gods should never be approached on foot. People must not rely on themselves. It is a lesson in humility.” For a fee, of course. The canal narrows as the pyramidical temple rises ahead. A vast black mass churns above it. “It appeared a month ago. A delightful gift from Ashen Reach. They refuse to disperse it until we agree to Cinder Cliffs’ terms. I’m sick of their alliance.” Nefret exhales sharply. “Cinder wants our holy books. We may read them but only in their libraries. Perhaps Your Majesty can convince them otherwise,” she purrs, stroking my uncle’s arm.

“And what is it you want from them?” He chuckles.

“Only the right to burn their heretical texts.” She smiles sweetly, fluttering her long eyelashes. “And yours too, if you’ll allow.”

The King lets out a hearty laugh. “I will not, Nefret.”

She pouts. “Perhaps, if you stay the night, I’ll persuade you.”

“You are barking up the wrong tree, my dear,” he says. “Now, Fareese, on the other hand, let him bark.”

They shriek with laughter, so enviously comfortable in their own power.

Once the boat docks, we are led onto the open-air roof, and Ember Court blazes below like a constellation, while above, the ash cloud churns. I hold my hand out, the flakes dissolve into thin air some inches before they reach my skin. They don’t seem to settle on any of the surfaces either. A priestess finishes a blessing over the food spread across a table carved from ruby. We take our seats, the wind swirling the smells of incense and vegetables. A tall, slim male emerges from the eastern archway, draped in black and gold, and Nefret rises, clasping her hands together as though the sun has returned.

“Fareese, my love.” The faintest sting of jealousy, an irritation more than anything, pierces my chest before my attention is stolen by two figures flanking him. Wren Senior and his wife Arita. Leaders of Obsidian Hold. The pair resemble siblings rather than spouses, with the same pale, angular faces and dark hair. They both sport the same single braid that falls onto their matching fur pelts. I glance at the King. Summoned by God on a day where an alliance is being formed. What a convenient miracle.

Chapter 20

Aiden

the value lies in my will to strive,