Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 12

The throne room was as dark as the Annalindis’s family history.

It was such a stark contrast to the rest of the castle that Kindra almost did a double take upon entering, her terror quelled momentarily by shock. It, unlike every other part of the castle she’d seen, actually matched the exterior: black walls and floors with gold accents. And Scaldor—Scaldor was everywhere . The god and his fire were in the mural on the ceiling that domed so high above her head, on the columns throughout the massive space, even the stained-glass windows, which lined every wall except for the one with the entrance.

Kindra thought it seemed excessive, but then again, he did give them their power. The least they could have done, she considered, was decorate a castle with his face. Still, she found it painful to look at, given the circumstances, and she wasn’t even cursed.

They walked down a long red carpet that led to the steps before the throne. Her grip on Jasper’s arm tightened with every step they took. Her heart was hammering so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. Her magic was no better, coiling in her veins like a serpent gearing up to strike. Calm, she told herself, you have to stay calm.

All around her, members of the court gathered, peering over shoulders and around golden columns to get the best view. It made her skin crawl, and she focused on staring straight ahead, refusing to be overwhelmed by the immense crowd staring at her, or by the bits and pieces of whispers she could make out.

Staring ahead, however, was almost worse.

King Leofric Annalindis did not have Jasper’s soft gaze or Helena’s glow. In fact, Kindra found herself wondering how either of them could be related to the harsh, domineering man before her at all. His hair, receding at the temples, was blonde, though it was riddled with streaks of gray. His face was sharp and hard, but there —that was Jasper’s nose, she was sure of it—though the king’s jaw was wider, his brow more defined.

The throne he sat upon was cut from the same black stone as the room’s wall and floors, and was decorated with golden flames in a way that suggested it was engulfed by them. Kindra wondered how infuriating it felt to sit in a seat representative of such magical power and have none of it.

But King Leofric did not need magic to be powerful; she understood that very quickly. She could see it on his face as they grew closer, the sharpness and danger that lurked there.

Beside him sat Queen Cordilya. That, Kindra could tell, was who Jasper and Helena got most of their looks from. She was beautiful, her long light brown hair falling over her shoulders. Her skin, though beginning to wrinkle and show signs of her age, was aglow.

But it was her eyes that struck Kindra. They were gray, like Helena’s and Jasper’s, but they were utterly empty.

The queen was Alverin’s sole Oracle, able to receive prophetic visions and messages. A powerful and highly coveted type of Wielder. In a position so close to the king… Kindra took in her vacant stare and wondered if perhaps King Leofric had abused that privilege a little too much.

They reached the foot of the stairs. Jasper took his arm from her and bowed deeply. Kindra followed.

“Your Majesties,” a voice announced—Heinrich, who must have entered behind them with Cerulle and Sala, “His Highness Prince Jasper Annalindis, and his betrothed, Lady Kindra Bedelyn.”

A moment passed. They remained in their bows. Then, “You may rise.”

If a silent King Leofric was frightening, his voice made him downright terrifying. It was utterly devoid of any warmth or kindness, so different from Jasper’s smooth timbre or Helena’s bubbly tone. It was so cold .

They stood, and Kindra pressed her palms into the skirts of her gown, hoping it would absorb some of the sweat. The whole room was utterly silent, as if everyone was holding their breath.

The king’s gaze settled on her. She resisted the urge to squirm or look away.

“You are a Firefury, yes?” he asked .

She nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“They say you are quite good for somebody with no formal training.”

Kindra heard the insult behind those words. She prayed there was no bitterness in her voice as she replied, “Thank you, Your Majesty. I did the best I could.”

“Well, we are all eager to see what your best is.” The king smiled at her, but it was not kind. It looked more like he was baring his teeth.

There was a sharp intake of breath beside her. Jasper.

“Father, Mother, how have you been in my time away?” he started, and she did not miss the slight waiver in his voice nor, she was sure, did the king. “I have missed you dearly and cannot wait to regale you with stories from my travels. We saw so much—”

“You can regale us later, Jasper,” King Leofric dismissed him with a wave of his hand and she saw Jasper barely halt his flinch. Somewhere in the room, somebody failed to disguise their snicker.

Kindra began to feel like something was very wrong. She risked a look around the room. The crowd was still huddled behind the columns; it was as though they refused to cross the threshold into the main space.

Among them, closest to the throne, were Antone and Sebastian, who clearly took after their father in looks. Beside them stood their wives—Celeste and Myala, Kindra recalled—both images of beauty and grace in their own right. And just next to them were Helena and Emeline. Kindra met both of their stares. Dread filled her heart when she saw fear in both of their gazes. What’s happening? She tried to silently communicate. Help me.

Next to her, Jasper tried again, this time addressing his older brothers. But they did not deign to give him a response, as stone-faced as their father. Perhaps in a different situation, Kindra would have felt bad for him, embarrassed even, but she was too busy subtly assessing what was happening to feel anything for him at all.

Just then, Emeline’s hand moved. The movement was so small that Kindra almost didn’t catch it. But her index finger twitched ever so slightly, pointing to the guards. Kindra snuck a glance, and immediately went rigid. Their movements were so subtle that she would have missed it otherwise: the slight widening of their stance, their hands sliding higher inch by inch. These were Wielders, and they were preparing to do something .

What the fuck is going on? She readied her magic, preparing as best she could without drawing too much attention to herself.

“Enough of this,” King Leofric snapped suddenly, cutting off Jasper mid-sentence. “I grow weary of your babbling, son.” He waved a hand. “Go on, show them what they want to see.”

Kindra felt the Earthwardens’ vines before she saw them.

“What do you me—” Jasper started, only to cut into a scream as a wall of flame sprung up in front of him, swallowing the vines before they could touch the prince.

Cries of alarm and amazement rippled through the room as Kindra encircled her and Jasper with a ring of fire. Her flames stretched high above them, nearly singeing the ceiling. While Jasper sputtered in shock beside her, she paced in a circle, hands burning, waiting for the next strike.

The vines that surged towards them slammed against her fire and fell away burning. Even as the blows came more steadily, she held fast, hardly wavering. All the while, her mind whirled with a million different explanations for this attack, and too few ideas for what to do about it.

“What is this?” Jasper shouted over the crackling blaze. Sweat beaded his brow, and his eyes were wide with panic. It was not particularly reassuring that he had no idea what was going on. “Father, what are you doing?”

After another moment, Kindra heard the heavy clapping of hands—the king, signaling the attack had come to an end. She lowered the flames slowly, and once she saw that the guards were relaxed, no longer wielding vines at her face, she extinguished them entirely. Her hands, though, remained encased in fire, ready to set the whole room aflame at a moment’s notice if necessary.

King Leofric was standing, continuing his lazy applause. The rest of the room followed suit, oohing and aahing as if they’d witnessed some amazing entertainment and not an assault on a member of the royal family and his future wife. Helena and Emeline, she noticed, did not join the others. They were clutching each other’s hands tightly. Helena was on the verge of tears. Emeline looked downright furious.

“Well, look at that,” the king drawled, walking down the steps towards them. Still, he clapped, a nasty grin on his face. “Perhaps they weren’t lying about you after all. ”

Kindra remained silent. She was afraid if she began to speak, she would either scream or cry or both.

“When they told me they’d found a Firefury of worthy skill, I didn’t believe them, I must confess,” he continued, “You see, my idea of worthy is different from most people’s. I am, after all, an Annalindis. And we are Scaldor-blessed.”

Were, she thought as she tried to relax, snuffing out the fire in her hands. She forced herself to stand tall, to look him in the eye. I am not afraid of you. She tried to make herself believe it.

King Leofric came to a halt right in front of her. She could see each hair on his head, the dangerous glint of his dark eyes. Her insides twinged. “There’s a reason no Firefury has married into the Annalindis family in decades. We hadn’t found one worthy enough . But you?” His smile deepened, twisting into something ugly. “You might actually come close, girl.” He looked at his son, who was standing open-mouthed. “Take good care of her.”

Then he moved away, back up to his throne, where his wife still sat. Eyes still vacant. Expression still empty. As if she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary happening at all. The king turned and addressed the room. “You have seen for yourself the power of Alverin’s new hope. May you spread it to all that fire once again burns in these halls, and it is strong and bright.” With that, he sat down, and the room exploded into chatter and activity. Many surged towards Kindra and Jasper, but Helena and Emeline reached them first. Emeline quickly looped her arm through Kindra’s, the shock of her water-cooled skin a welcome reprieve against the hot magic still roiling under Kindra’s. Helena did the same with Jasper, herding her stunned brother towards the door.

“Let’s go,” she said softly, and together she and her wife steered the trembling couple out of the throne room, leaving behind a sneering king, nosy courtiers, and a singed, still-smoking circle in the carpet.