Empire of Flame and Thorns (Flame and Thorns #1)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

T orchlight illuminates the large gathering hall inside the Golden Palace’s south wing. I sweep my gaze over the burning torches that have been mounted on the pale stone walls. The swirling gold and glass lantern holders that used to contain faelights are still there on the walls too, but the faelight gems have been ripped out. So instead of the soft white light of our people illuminating our sacred palace, it’s lit by fire, which is the dragon shifters’ element. It’s a petty yet effective reminder that this is no longer our castle.

I cast a glance out the window. The sun has set now, which means that only the people who are in here with me now will compete in the trials. I shift my gaze back to the crowd around me. Some of them are standing in groups, speaking in soft tones, but most are standing alone on the gleaming white floor. It looks as if roughly three quarters of our original group made it inside.

“Alright, listen up, because I’m only going to say this once,” Imar declares as he suddenly strides in through one of the open doorways. “And if you’re too stupid to remember these instructions after only hearing them once, you don’t deserve to be here anyway.”

A ripple goes through the crowd as we all turn slightly so that we’re facing him. Most people simply ignore the insult in his words, but a little to my left, Alistair squeezes his hand into a tight fist before flexing his fingers again.

I’m so used to people treating me like the plague, both dragon shifter and fae, that I barely even consider Imar’s words an insult.

“When you entered the palace, you were given a key with a number on it,” Imar says. “That’s the key to the room you will be staying in for the duration of the Atonement Trials. There will be no switching rooms. What you’ve been given is what you get.”

I glance down at the golden key in my hand. The number forty-two is engraved on it. Despite what Imar just said, I fold my fingers around it and hold it tightly in case someone might try to steal it.

“There are shared bathing chambers at the end of each corridor,” Imar continues. “Food will be served for you in the south wing dining room.” A smug smile tilts his lips. “Both the cleaning and the food preparation is done by volunteers from your city. So whatever mess you make, they will have to clean up. Understood?”

The way he said volunteers made it clear that there was nothing voluntary about their decision. They were ordered to do it, and if we make trouble, they will pay the price.

Most people around me appear to have understood that too because several of them clench their jaw in anger. To my surprise, Alistair is one of them. I flick a confused glance at him. I didn’t think he cared about anyone else.

“Which brings us to the most important rule of all,” Imar says before pausing as if to make sure that everyone is paying attention. His blue eyes sharpen as he cuts a hard look across our group. “You are not allowed to harm each other outside of the trials. Anyone who causes physical harm to another contestant in the times between trials will be executed immediately.”

Several people shift their weight uncomfortably.

A fae woman with long blond hair raises a tentative hand. “I’m sorry, did you say exiled? Or executed?”

“Executed.”

“Oh.” She swallows. “What if it’s an accident?”

He just continues staring her down in silence, his expression unyielding.

She edges a step back and lowers her chin.

I blow out a soft breath. At least that means that I won’t have to worry about someone breaking into my room and slitting my throat while I sleep.

Draven’s words from earlier suddenly echo through my mind. An eye for an eye sounds too fair. I will be taking the whole head.

Uncertainty swirls through me, and I run a quick hand over my throat. Draven doesn’t have access to our rooms, does he?

“That’s all,” Imar announces, yanking me out of my thoughts and back to the present. “The first test will begin tomorrow at midday.” He flicks his wrist. “Dismissed.”

The sound of shuffling feet fills the room as everyone starts towards the doorways in search of their rooms. I do the same.

Just like the gathering hall, the white stone corridors are lit with torches. But the rest of the Golden Palace looks to be mostly unspoiled. Soft red carpets line the hallways, and in this wing, the gilded paintings on the walls depict breathtaking nature scenes. I gaze longingly at one painting of a beautiful forest that must be located somewhere close to our court. Or maybe that forest has now been consumed by the thorn forest that the shifters raised.

When I at last reach a door with the number forty-two on it, a few stories up, I find myself in a wide corridor with lots of other doors along the walls and then a larger one at the very end. I’ve never been inside the Golden Palace before, for obvious reasons, but if I were to guess, the entire south wing is probably a guest wing.

Several other people walk past me and continue down the hall towards rooms farther down. I quickly unlock my door and slip inside my room.

My breath catches as I stare at the room that meets me on the other side of the threshold. It’s elegant and spacious. Sparkling windows offer a view of the trees in vibrant fall colors that remain in the palace grounds outside. A white wooden closet stands next to them, and there is a gilded full-length mirror on the wall too. By the wall on my left is a massive double bed made of the same white wood as the closet.

Staggering forward, I run my hand over the fluffy covers and smooth sheets.

Something between a whimper and a sob escapes my lips.

It’s the softest bed I have ever seen.

I sweep my gaze around the room and suck in a stunned breath when I realize that, in here, the faelights have been left untouched. No flickering firelight dances menacingly over the walls. Instead, soft white light fills the room, making the walls shimmer.

My heart both aches and feels like it’s bursting with joy at the same time. This room is beautiful. And the most luxurious room I have ever stayed in.

I turn back to the bed.

A neatly folded pile of white fabric waits there atop the covers. Moving closer, I carefully pick it up. As I lift them, the garments unfold to reveal a white silk nightgown and a thigh-length robe made of sheer white lace.

For a few seconds, I just stare at those two pieces of clothing.

All I want to do is to put them on and jump into bed to see if it feels just as heavenly as it looks.

However, before I can do that, I catch sight of myself in the mirror on the other side of the room. Turning, I face it fully. A dusty and exhausted-looking fae rebel stares back at me from the mirror.

I drop the nightgown and robe in a flash, suddenly afraid that they’re going to start smelling like fish guts if I hold on to them for too long. Shaking my head, I take a step back from the bed.

I’m covered in dust and sweat from the sprint across the grasslands and the hike around the iron wall, and blades of grass still cling to my hair from the half-hour I spent lying on the ground after I made it over the wall. Not to mention that I spent all morning with my hands wrist-deep in fish guts.

Backing towards the door, I shake my head at the beautiful room again.

No. I need to take a bath first. Then, and only then, can I climb into that wonderful bed without fear of ruining it.

The hallway outside is empty when I slip back out of my room. I take that as a good sign and hurry towards the large door at the end of the corridor. Imar said that there would be a bathing chamber there. Hopefully, everyone else is still trying to find their rooms so that I can wash off alone.

For once, luck is on my side and I find the bathing chamber empty. However, voices start echoing from the hallway before long, so I finish washing off quickly. Right after I’ve finished getting dressed, another person strides in through the door.

It’s the woman with ice magic who jumped over the wall earlier. Her blue and silver eyes are sharp as she scans the bathing chamber. When her gaze lands on me, I give her a small smile. She doesn’t return it, but she does give me a nod in acknowledgement.

Since I can tell that she’s not in the mood for conversation, I leave it at that and instead walk back out into the corridor.

My heart jerks when I find Alistair and his gang standing clustered together close to my room.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.

Even though we’re not allowed to hurt each other in here, I don’t want to show him which room is mine. Just in case. So instead of heading back to my room, I slip past them and continue out into the next hallway. I might as well scout out this wing so that I know where the dining room and everything else is located.

Firelight dances over the stone walls as I make my way through the palace.

There are lots of twisting hallways containing doors with numbers on them, which further strengthens my assumption that this wing is entirely dedicated to guests.

As I skulk down an empty corridor behind the dining room, I wonder where all the dragon shifters are living. When I walked through the main palace doors, I was immediately ushered towards the south wing. But I know that there are several other wings too. The Icehearts are probably staying in the royal chambers, but I wonder where Draven and?—

I slam to a halt, yanked out of my thoughts, as I round the next corner and suddenly find myself face to face with the ruthless dragon commander that I was just thinking about.

Draven Ryat comes to an abrupt halt as well, looking equally surprised to have found me in this corridor at this hour.

I flick a glance out the nearest window, realizing that the night has grown later than I thought. Scouting through all the different corridors and levels and public rooms has taken more time than I had intended.

For a few moments, only the soft hissing of the torches breaks the tense silence.

Then Draven cocks his head, a sly smile spreading over his mouth. “Well, aren’t you a little rebel?”

Panic cracks through my chest like a lightning strike. Shit . Does he know that I’m a member of the resistance? How could he possibly have found that out? How could?—

“…sneaking around at night like this.”

My brain malfunctions for a second as his words register.

Then my mind finally catches up.

Oh. He didn’t mean rebel as in member of the fae resistance . He meant rebel as in someone sneaking around the castle late at night while she should be in her room .

Relief washes through me. Thank Mabona.

Draven takes a step closer and narrows his eyes at me, and I suddenly realize that I still haven’t actually responded to his statement.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he declares as he advances on me.

Instinctively, I back away. But then I remember myself right before my back can hit the wall behind me. Raising my chin, I stop a stride away from the wall and meet his eyes instead.

“Roaming the halls isn’t forbidden,” I state. That burst of relief has filled me with pulsing confidence and makes me feel bold. Arching an eyebrow, I give Draven a look full of challenge. “No one ever said that we’re not allowed to leave our rooms at night.”

“No.” He takes a step closer. “But that’s not what I meant.”

He moves until he is standing barely half a step in front of me. This close, I can almost feel the heat radiating from his skin. His intoxicating scent envelops me. Dark and mysterious, like night mist and embers. It makes my head spin.

While his intense eyes are locked firmly on mine, he flexes his right hand, as if he’s barely restraining himself from drawing his sword. I inhale softly to steady myself, but that only makes me breathe him in more, causing my head to spin yet again.

Draven holds my gaze with hard eyes. “What I mean is, you shouldn’t be in this tournament.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I spilled my drink on you,” I blurt out.

“Spilled?” A laugh rips from his lungs. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he advances on me again. “You threw it in my face.”

Since he’s both taller and more muscular than me, I’m forced to step back to avoid being mowed down by him. My back hits the stone wall behind me with a soft thud.

“It was a mistake,” I reply.

He adjusts his wings, spreading them wider, as he closes the final distance between us. Even though he’s not touching me, his powerful body and massive wings now block off any escape route and trap me completely against the wall.

“A mistake?” he echoes. “It looked very deliberate to me.”

Since there is no point in trying to further deny that, I instead just hold his gaze and repeat, “I’m sorry.”

Apologizing to a dragon shifter makes me want to vomit, but having Draven Ryat as an enemy is a really bad idea. If he decides to start interfering, my chances of winning the Atonement Trials are going to be very slim.

“It’s too late for apologies.” His eyes are as hard and unyielding as iron as he stares me down. “Do you know what I do to people who step out of line?”

A jolt shoots through me as he draws his fingers over my throat. The soft brush of his fingers against the sensitive skin on the side of my neck sends fire licking through my veins. The touch is gentle, but the implied threat is clear.

He braces his other hand on the wall next to my head and leans down until he’s so close that I can feel his breath against my lips.

“This is your last chance,” he warns. “Drop out of the Atonement Trials before the first test tomorrow.”

My heart beats erratically in my chest as I hold his gaze. “Or what?”

“Or you’re going to regret it.”

An absolutely insane burst of laughter rips from my throat, but I can’t stop it. Because I have just come to the crystal-clear conclusion that there is nothing that I can do or say to stop this man from hating me. I’m pretty sure that I could even get down on my knees and lick his boots and grovel for his forgiveness, and he would still never accept my apology. He hates me for humiliating him in front of everyone in that tavern, and he’s going to do whatever it takes to ruin my life. And there is nothing I can do to change that.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t even care. Because I despise him and everything he stands for too.

To my surprise, that realization is so liberating that I almost feel lightheaded. I don’t have to make myself less in front of him. I don’t have to be polite and self-sacrificing. Because he is going to hate me regardless of how I behave, and I don’t care if a ruthless enemy commander, and the biggest threat to our resistance, likes me anyway.

Another chuckle slips from my lips. This one is a lot more mocking.

“Oh?” I taunt with a sly grin. “You’ll make sure of that, huh?”

In a flash, his fingers go from lightly tracing my throat to gripping my jaw. The back of my head is now pressed against the wall, and with the firm hand right underneath my jaw, I can no longer open my mouth.

Draven leans down until his lips almost brush against mine. “Watch your mouth.”

My heart flips and then pounds against my ribs. But it’s not out of fear.

Tension crackles around us like lightning in the air.

“And do as I say.” He slides his hand down to rest around my throat instead. Firelight from the torch next to us flickers in his eyes as he stares me down. “Or you’re going to wish that I had killed you here in this corridor tonight.”

Before I can unscramble my brain and form a reply, he abruptly takes his hand off my throat. His wings flare before he tucks them in tighter and turns around.

I remain there, slumped against the wall, and watch as he stalks back down the hall.

A deep sigh escapes my chest.

Well, that went splendidly.