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He picks out a ring that has an empty oval-shaped mounting. Then he picks out a green gemstone from the flames, which glows slightly on its own, and sets it in the base. He uses his fire to melt the surrounding metal to hold it in place. “This is a stone from my court. It’s a green fire gem. Green fire can heal cuts and burns, and sometimes even save lives. I want you to have one. My father invented these.”
He comes over, putting the bottle on the side next to me. My heart is in my throat as he lifts my hand and slides the ring onto my middle finger. “Now when you cuss me or anyone else out for being a dickhead, I’ll know you’re safe with this ring.”
I snort with laughter, running my finger over the stone. I think this is the first gift I’ve ever been given by a guy. Finley never bought me anything. “Isn’t this ring considered cheating in the race?”
He shrugs. “What Matron doesn’t know won’t kill her.”
Kill her. For a moment, my mind flickers to thoughts of Desmerda and Lysander killing her for hurting me. But Arden brings my attention back to him. He lifts the potion bottle to me. “Try some. Don’t worry. I’ve taken the heat out of it. It won’t burn you.”
He drops the potion in my hand. I frown before taking a sip, and my eyes widen as the sour taste takes over. The world goes hazy for a second before everything’s so intense. Every colour in the room is brighter than it was. I can see flecks of dirt and dust in the air. I can see so much more. And Arden? Wow. He’s so much more like this. My mouth parts as I look at him like he is the sun. He’s truly beautiful. “I invented this. This way, you can look through our eyes as shifters. I thought you might be interested in seeing the world like we do.”
“It’s incredible,” I breathe out.
“Come,” he says, taking my hand. Where his fingers touch my skin, it burns to life like there’s something alive between us. I just want to touch more of his hand, so I end up grabbing his hand with my other one, linking our fingers. I feel a bit dizzy on my feet for a moment. He looks down at me. “Maybe I should have lowered the dosage. I haven’t given it to a mortal as short as you. You look drunk and it’s giving me flashbacks about you begging to ride our dragons.”
My cheeks burn as I lift my middle finger. “Shut up.”
He grins, looking at the ring, and something possessive flashes in his eyes. I lower my hand as he leads me to a wall where there’s a row of half windows, showing the storm outside as it blasts against the glass. Arden opens two of them, and he leans out of one. I lean out of the other, watching over the mountains. It’s so beautiful. I can see so much more. I can see for miles, even through the rain and thick grey clouds. Some of the mountains have an inch of snow on top of them. I can see villages and old ruins, woodlands and the distant sea. “I might be from a court where it never rains, but I like the storms here.”
“I’ve always loved storms,” I breathe out. “They are loud, demanding and frightening, but also calm and beautiful.”
“Reminds me of someone I know,” he murmurs. Looking at me. “Princess, I know you want to escape my world, but there’s so much more to it. I hope you don’t always want to leave,” he tells me truthfully. “I know you don’t want to be anyone’s queen or owned by anyone, but if you came to my court, you wouldn’t be owned by me. Yes, you will be my queen, but you’ll be my equal at my side. I won’t make you have dragon babies. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” He looks me dead in the eye. This close with that drink in my system, I can see his eyes for what they truly are. Beautiful and intense flames. “I haven’t extended that offer to anybody. I’ve lived in my castle on my own for a very long time. Yes, I spent my summers with the other kings, but the rest of the time it was just me, but now I’m imagining more. I’m imagining you there too, at my side. I could show you so much more than this. You’d love my court if you gave it a chance—if you gave me a real chance, Ellelin.”
I turn away, feeling so many things at once. I watch the pouring rain, feeling his eyes watching me. Only me. “Where’s the rest of your family? Someone said that you’re the last of the Fire Court.”
He is quiet for so long that I don’t expect him to answer. “I lost my mother, my father, and my little brother in a dreadful accident when I was only seven years old. Lysander lost his father at the same time and his mother never recovered. Gray’s family were destroyed that night too. I barely remember them, to be truthful with you, and what I do remember is bits here and there, but I miss them. I miss the warmness my court was said to have when they were alive. My mother had red hair. My father had black hair, and my little brother had little bits of red hair, too. He was only a baby. I remember my mother singing to me and chasing me around the castle while she was pregnant. I remember my father locked in his laboratories, shouting and barking orders. He always had a smile for me when he saw me, but those memories are slipping away with time even now.”
My heart clenches. “Arden, I’m so sorry.”
He clears his throat. “They died and I don’t have any cousins. I don’t have any distant relatives like the other courts do. There is only me. My people have only me. If I don’t make an heir for them, the royal family of the Fire Court will die with me. Truth be told, I wonder if that wouldn’t be a bad thing. My family fuck everything up, always have done, and I doubt I’m much better.”
What Lysander is asking of me is so, so much worse now. “I know it must have been horrible to lose them. I lost my parents when I was six,” I say quietly. “And like you, I don’t really remember them. My memories feel like they are lost in a fog. I vaguely remember them having black hair. I think my mother had really dark blue eyes and used to sing to me. I don’t remember my father, other than a tall man that I see in my dreams sometimes. I wish I remembered more. My grandmother told me a lot about them, but she didn’t have any photos, and I somehow morphed her memories into my memories.”
He leans back. “I do that too. Emrys’s mother told me a lot about my parents. They were best friends, and she looked after me the best she could, but she had her own court, her own children to look after. The summers with her were the best, with the others too. I’m lucky I have them.”
You’re not that lucky, if you knew what Lysander is doing. He isn’t your friend. He is your enemy. He is my enemy, too. Arden takes two steps closer to me, placing his hands on my shoulders and very slowly drifts his fingers down the back of my arms then back up, making my whole body shudder. He leans a bit closer to me, and I find my lips parting for him. I find myself wanting him to kiss me, wanting more as my butt hits the window ledge, leaving no space between us as he presses his body into mine.
I arch my neck up to look at him, and he stares into my eyes right before he leans down and finally kisses me. God, it feels like coming home. His hands tighten on my shoulders before drifting down to my waist as I wrap my arms around his neck, letting myself fully lose myself in him. He groans, his tongue slipping into my mouth as he picks me up, pushing me against the wall, pushing himself into me. A moan escapes my throat, and he tilts my jaw and presses his warm lips on my throat, sending shivers down my spine.
I freeze as I look over Arden’s shoulder, seeing Lysander watching from the door. He holds his hand out, and cold water starts to form in my hand, shaping into a dagger before hardening to ice. My blood goes cold as I realise what he wants me to do.
Stab Arden as he kisses my neck, as he is distracted by me.
Kill Arden and I can be free. My grandmother will be safe.
Lysander watches with a cruel smile. My heart pounds, the seconds feeling like minutes as Arden keeps kissing down my jaw, down my neck, lightly nibbling at my skin. He feels so big between my legs, pushing into me, and my body wants so much more.
But the dagger feels so heavy in my hand, and I realise I can’t do it.
I mouth, “The deal is off.”
And I drop the dagger. Lysander’s eyes narrow, the dagger melting away into pure mist before it hits the ground.
“Arden, we have a problem,” Lysander angrily shouts, banging his fist on the door.
Arden lifts his head, a growl ripping out of his throat. “Get the fuck out, friend.”
“It can’t wait, but she can,” Lysander comments, sounding bored. “You can fuck her later. It’s not like she has anywhere to escape to or anyone waiting for her.”
