Page 7 of Only Flames Remain

The Vireth fae had been cursed several millenniums ago by Mordecai, the god of death. They were cursed to drink blood or perish. They were an abomination, brimming with the sinister magic the god had doomed them with. Their magical abilities were derived from the darkness, where Veytari power was derived from the light. Vireth were power hungry and ruthless. They weren’t allowed to step foot on this continent.

But that had never stopped them from wanting to take it for themselves.

I traced the hand not currently in Enora’s grip against the damp wall, guiding us around the twists and turns of the underground tunnel.

The guard ahead of us skidded to a stop, and we almost bounded right into him in the darkness. I could hear him fumbling with a key on his belt. Once he finally found the right one, he clasped it, unlocking the door I hadn’t even noticed in the darkness.

The access to the castle from the tunnels was locked. My mind was swirling with too many questions at once. What were these tunnels used for? Who had keys and thus access to the castle from the outside?

The guard swung the door open, and the access beyond was mercifully lit by torchlight. I snatched one of the torches from its metal post and pressed forward, toward the end of the narrow corridor and the second door that lay beyond. I could hear a murmur of voices filtering down from above. The guard was turning back toward the door, fumbling with his keys to lock it behind us.

Enora held one slender finger to her lips as her gaze traveled upward, listening to the conversation above. There was a grate over us, but the only thing I could see through it was the light from beyond and the shadows of the figures above.

“You call this a warning?” King Faris’s voice roared, his feet thundering against the floor as he paced back and forth furiously.

Someone above took a deep, centering inhale. “No one was killed, merely injured. This was to hurt our pride more than anything. A threat. To show us that they have the upper hand, and they always will. That we stand no chance against them.” It was Queen Dyata’s voice that answered.

I would know that voice anywhere.

“How dare they!” The king stopped his pacing only long enough for something to clatter to the floor and break into a million pieces.

“Mother is right. This was merely a show of power. They retreated as quickly as they appeared. There were a few fires, but they are already well on their way to being put out. No casualties have been reported thus far. If they had wanted to march against us, they wouldn’t have only sent the princes.” My cheeks warmed at the voice of Prince Kallias above.

“The princes,” King Faris seethed with distaste. “Those demons. They are a shame to the fae. Cursed, blood-drinking monsters. Their rule is a disgrace to the entire realm of Aeloria, and I will not stand for it!”

“While I agree,” Prince Kallias began, his steps nearing the grate above us, “I don’t think we should retaliate rashly. We need to be smart. Calculated. The realm already thinks us weak and complacent. To retaliate and fail would mean the ruin of our kingdom and our reputation.”

“You think I don’t know that?” King Faris roared; his voice so close above us that the muscles in my neck grew taut with anxiety.

We couldn’t be caught listening down here. It wouldn’t matter what I meant to the prince. It would be considered spying and would be punished as such.

The guard started toward us, and Enora and I moved away, the sounds of the voices above growing distant as we ascended the steep incline toward the castle proper. I disposed of the torch in one of the empty metal grips along the wall.

“King Mavros grows weak on the throne of Gothryn. His eldest—the bastard—is being forced to take a wife before he can claim the throne and take his father’s place. They will ally with Sylvaris or Ravenscar to the north, bind themselves in marriage to secure their rule of the continent. Then they will move against us to take ours.” King Faris’s voice was barely a murmur as we passed through the second door, toward the staircase beyond that would lead us up.

The guard met my gaze with a sharp look but said nothing.

“It would certainly be difficult to secure their reign if King Mavros had no heirs…” Queen Dyata trailed off.

Was she truly suggesting we murder the Blackwater princes? But…they were Vireth. They were dragons. How did she think we could accomplish that?

“We have heard your plan, Mother. It isn’t that simple.” Kallias sounded exasperated.

I imagined he was running a hand down the blond scruff that had grown on his face over the last week. The negotiations had been long and taxing. We had all thought peace had been achieved at long last.

The guard pressed ahead, and we begrudgingly followed on his heels, ascending the stone staircase as the voices above floated off into the distance. The guard pulled another lever, and another trap door popped open. It led us into another tunnel above that appeared much the same.

Dark and damp.

The guard pressed down the short walk, shouldering open the door beyond which led directly into one of the arteries on the first floor of the castle. Blessedly, this hallway was empty.

The worn, familiar stone footing greeted us as we shuffled through the door, and the guard allowed it to close behind us. There were so many doors in the castle, I hardly knew where each of them led to. It was entirely possible for someone to find this one purely by accident.

“I will bring you to the prince,” the guard announced, nodding his head once and turning on his heel.

Enora and I followed.

As we traversed the northern wing of the castle, every door I passed had me questioning where it led. How many of these doors led to the hidden tunnels beneath the castle? Why had Kallias never thought to share this with me?