Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 22

The guards did not say a word as they escorted her back to her rooms.

She did her best to hold her head high as she walked, to not look like she’d just been screamed at by the crown prince. She wasn’t sure how many people managed to walk away from one of those encounters in one piece, so she supposed she should be grateful screaming is all he’d done.

He did say that if it weren’t for the king’s interest, he would have thrown her in the dungeons. So though she was enraged—more than that, humiliated—by how he’d treated her, she knew she’d been lucky today.

She only hoped that she didn’t just make Jasper’s already strained relationship with his family even worse.

When they got to her rooms, Cerulle and Sala, wide-eyed, opened the doors for her. The guards hovered behind her, and she shot them a sour look. “What, are you going to lock me in?” she snapped, uncertain that they wouldn’t

The Firefury cocked his head. “Do we need to?” he replied.

She balled her hands into fists, grinding her teeth together. Humiliating. This was all so humiliating. “No,” she bit out, and stormed into her rooms.

The doors slammed behind her, and through them, Kindra could hear muffled, agitated conversation.

Fear shot through her. Were they actually going to lock her in? She wasn’t stupid; she wouldn’t try to force her way into the meeting now that she’d been rejected. But the guards didn’t know that.

She wrenched open the door. Cerulle and Sala were gone, replaced by not one, not two, but six guards, who turned and regarded her with compassionless expressions.

“Where are Cerulle and Sala?” she demanded.

“They’ve been released for the day,” one of the guards replied. “We will be watching your chambers instead.” Then, as if he wanted to rub salt in the wound, he added, “Let us know if you need anything, Lady Kindra.”

She huffed angrily and shut the door.

So she was not going to be leaving her chambers for the rest of the day. That much was obvious. Technically, they weren’t locking her in, but they may as well have.

Rather than sit and fume over something she couldn’t control, she decided to keep herself busy. She finished unpacking her trunk. When the guards brought her dinner, she ate it, forcing food down her throat but not really tasting it. She even tried to calm her mind with one of her breathing sessions, but she gave that up not even fifteen minutes in and instead opted to pace about her rooms.

Lots of pacing.

When Emeline strode into her rooms a couple hours later, Kindra was so relieved to see another human who wasn’t a guard she nearly cried.

“Kindra,” Emeline began before she could even greet her, and her relief vanished.

“I know, Emeline,” Kindra all but shouted, exasperation and shame fueling her outburst. “Spare me the lecture, please. Gods know I’ve gotten enough of them in the last week.”

Emeline’s mouth hardened into a firm line, her eyes storming. The last time they’d spoken, Kindra had snapped at her and stormed out of the room. The princess was probably debating whether or not she should tear into her for doing it again.

When she spoke, her voice was low and serious. “I was going to ask if you were doing all right, that’s all.”

“Oh,” was all Kindra could say in response, embarrassment heating her cheeks. Then, “Sorry.”

“You should be,” Emeline replied curtly. Kindra stared at the floor. Emeline’s next words were gentler. “We are not your enemies, Kindra.”

Silence hung between them for a few heartbeats, before Kindra admitted, “It doesn’t feel that way right now. I feel… I feel very…”

“Lonely? Isolated?” Emeline guessed, and Kindra nodded. Emeline sighed, some of the tension leaving her body. She eased herself onto the sofa. Kindra remained hovering near the fireplace. “I’ve decided to forgive you for how you spoke to me earlier today,” she declared, voice jarringly authoritative. At Kindra’s shocked expression, she continued, “That’s not some royal declaration. I’m deciding to forgive you because you are my friend.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, Kindra.”

“I thought friends were supposed to be more understanding,” Kindra grumbled, so tired of being talked to as if she was a stupid child.

“Have I not been?”

“You’ve spent an awful lot of time telling me to just get over it. All of you have.”

“That’s not what we intended—”

“Well that’s how it feels , Emeline,” Kindra shot back hotly.

Again, silence stretched between them.

“Then you will have to forgive us. We only want this transition to be as easy as possible for you. Maybe we don’t know what it’s like to be in your shoes, but we do know how cruel the people in this castle can be. We can help you settle in here and get used to your new life. That’s all we’ve been trying to do.” Emeline paused. “There’s—there’s no going back, Kindra.”

“I know,” Kindra whispered.

Emeline nodded. “Then all is forgiven?”

The assumption in Emeline’s voice grated on Kindra’s nerves. There was more to be said—more she wanted to say, at least, even if Emeline felt otherwise.

But she was so exhausted. And she knew Emeline was telling the truth: they were only trying to help her adjust to this life as best they could, even if they sometimes dismissed Kindra’s feelings in the process.

But that discussion was for another day. Several days, if she was being honest, because their perspective wasn’t likely to change any faster than hers.

“Fine,” Kindra muttered, then repeated more firmly. “Fine. All is forgiven.” She shrugged. “Jasper and I have made up, anyhow.”

Emeline smiled. “Well, thank the gods.”

Kindra frowned. “He’s not getting strung up at the gallows for what happened, is he?”

“No, no. The king was probably pissed, though.”

She shuddered. “The gallows aren’t much worse than that.”

Emeline chuckled. “No, I suppose not.” The princess studied her for a moment. “You shouldn’t give up this part of yourself, by the way.”

“What part?”

“The part of you that pushed you to try to get into that meeting. Your sense of right and wrong.” With something akin to hope flashing in her eyes, she continued, “There’s a way to hold onto that here. You just have to learn how to play the game.”

“And what part of myself will I sacrifice in order to do that?”

“Probably the part that makes you scream at crown princes, unfortunately.”

Kindra laughed. “Unfortunate, indeed,” she murmured.

Emeline departed soon after, the peace between them restored, and Kindra was left with a dark cloud of worry around her.

She couldn’t help but think of her mother. Was she safe? Was Harthwin still standing? All the horrible possibilities danced in her mind, laughing. And you aren’t there, they cackled. You’re tucked away in a castle, doing nothing.

She snarled, running her hands through her hair, begging her mind to be silent. Her magic thrummed, desperate and aching to be expelled, to be useful in some way. But she was trapped here. Her power couldn’t help Harthwin from hundreds of miles away.

I have to get into those meetings.

That was the only way she could try to help Harthwin and Mistbarrow and all the other villages along the border. She had to get into the War Chamber. There had to be some way to get the king’s permission. She’d beg him, if she had to, though the thought made her stomach turn.

After distracting herself by changing into her nightgown and wrapping herself in a blanket, she settled onto the sofa. The clock on the mantle was approaching eleven. Outside, the night sky was clear, her balcony bathed in silver light from the full moon. The fire in the fireplace was getting low, and she lazily waved it back to life.

Kindra relaxed, settling into the plump cushions, studying the flowers now standing in a vase on the end table. Her eyelids drooped, and she struggled to force them back open. All the stress from the last few hours—few days—was bleeding from her body, and she became acutely aware of how exhausted she was .

Jasper will wake me , she reminded herself as her eyes slipped closed again. I can rest my eyes, just for a bit…