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

Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

S oft sheets caress my skin. Blinking, I rub a hand over my face and heave a deep sigh. I haven’t slept this peacefully and this deep in ages. I feel completely rested, and my body is filled with renewed energy.

I jerk upright in the bed.

Rested. Filled with energy. My body.

Memories of last night crash over me. The shock as Tommen and Jeb broke my door down. The fear as they attacked me. The pain as they hit me and stabbed me. The hopelessness as they were about to kill me.

And then…

Draven storming into my room like the Shadow of Death.

My breath catches.

Which oddly enough doesn’t hurt. I glance down at my body in stunned surprise.

I know that several of my ribs were completely shattered last night. And I might have increased healing speed, but it’s not this fast.

My gaze drifts to my arm and then my leg. The wounds there are gone. Not even a scar is left.

Which can only mean one thing.

The powerful healing magic from the leader of the Orange Dragon Clan.

For an entire minute, all I can do is to stare down at my body. My now completely healed and well-rested body. I haven’t felt this good in decades. Not only did that powerful healing magic fix my most recent injuries, it also got rid of the exhaustion and weakness and sheer utter tiredness that has clung to my bones for years due to the prolonged lack of food and the long hours of work. I didn’t even realize how much it has weighed on my soul until now when it’s gone.

Drawing in a deep breath, I marvel at the feeling of my lungs expanding fully. Without pain or pressure crushing them.

I rub a hand over the spot on my thigh where Jeb stabbed me. There is a tiny speck of blood on the hem of my short white nightgown, which means that I’m still wearing the same one that I wore last night. But someone has swapped the thin lace robe for a different one. No doubt since my original one had a slash through the arm. Not to mention that the fabric covering that arm was completely soaked in blood from the cut across my forearm.

The realization that someone has healed me and changed my robe brings forth another question.

Where in Mabona’s name am I?

Still sitting in the middle of the bed, I stare at the room around me. It’s certainly not my room. Instead of walls and floor made of the same pale stone as the rest of the palace, this room has the added luxury of floorboards and wall panels made of rich dark wood.

There are bookshelves along one wall, and a grand desk by the other. They’re all made of the same elegant wood. As is the double bed that I’m occupying. I glance down at the dark sheets that cover the soft mattress before I begin searching for the most important features of the room.

The doors.

There is one door on the wall to my right and another opposite me across the room. The wall on my left holds a series of windows. Sunlight which, from the angle of it, looks to be from a bright midday sun streams in through the windows and illuminates the luxurious room. I study it for another second.

I’m still somewhere in the Golden Palace, of that I’m certain. But it’s not the south wing.

“On your knees,” a harsh voice bellows from somewhere outside the windows.

My heart stutters as I recognize the voice.

Scrambling out of bed, I hurry over to the windows and look out at the scene before me. Or rather below me.

The windows overlook a courtyard on what appears to be the east side of the palace, close to the front doors. This room is up on the fourth floor, but I can still see clearly what happens on the ground below. And when I do, my mouth drops open.

All of the contestants who made it through the second trial are standing in a half circle with their backs towards my window. In front of them are three people. Draven, Tommen, and Jeb.

My two attackers from last night are on their knees while Draven stands behind them, looming over them like an executioner. He is holding his massive sword in his right hand, and his face radiates ruthless power and cold fury.

“You were given one very clear rule,” Draven says, his voice cutting through the air like the strike of a whip. “No fighting outside of trials. And yet, these two spineless cowards decided to attack another contestant in the middle of the night.” His eyes burn with threats as he sweeps a hard look over the half circle before him. “What is the punishment for that?”

Someone apparently answers, but because they aren’t shouting the way that Draven is, I can’t actually hear what they say through the closed window.

“Exactly,” Draven replies. He flexes his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Execution.”

On the ground, Tommen and Jeb tremble and cower down.

My gaze drops down to the two of them. Shock and confusion pulse through me as I take in their appearances.

Yes, the punishment for attacking another contestant is death. But these two haven’t simply been shackled and brought out to be executed. They have been tortured too.

Both of Tommen’s arms are bent at unnatural angles, and when he opens his mouth slightly, I notice that all of his teeth are missing. Blood and bruises cover both his face and Jeb’s. Jeb also has vicious-looking stab wounds and cuts all across his body.

My heart patters against my ribs as I stare at them. Based on the extent of their injuries, the torture must have gone on for most of the night.

Draven stalks around them until he is standing in the empty space on Tommen’s left. Tommen sways slightly on his knees but tries to keep his back straight as Draven comes to a halt.

“Beg forgiveness, and I will grant you a clean death,” Draven commands, his voice pulsing through the air.

Tommen’s mouth moves, but from up here, I can’t hear what he says. But apparently, Draven is satisfied with whatever it is that he says, because he raises his massive sword.

And then cuts Tommen’s head clean off his shoulders.

I gasp.

Down on the ground, several of the contestants jerk back as well.

Tommen’s head hits the ground and then rolls halfway around before coming to a halt. His body topples forwards and slams into the stones with a thud that I can hear even through the closed window. Blood spreads across the pale stones.

Jeb pees his pants.

The dark stain spreads across the entire front of Jeb’s pants as Draven flicks blood off his sword and then stalks around so that he is standing on Jeb’s right. Before Draven can even say anything, Jeb throws himself down on the ground, pressing his forehead against the stones before Draven’s feet. His hands reach desperately for Draven’s boots. The Shadow of Death kicks his hands away while a disgusted look twists his features.

“Please, I don’t want to die,” Jeb cries. And his words I can actually hear, because he too is screaming. “Please. Please. I’m begging you.”

Draven only stares down at him with merciless eyes. “You really should have thought about that before you dared to attack Selena.”

“Please—”

“You have five seconds to raise your head and face your death like a man. Or I will kill you right there in the dirt like the spineless worm you are.”

A ripple of fear courses through Jeb’s already broken body, and he presses his forehead harder against the ground while frantically begging for mercy.

Draven spins the sword in his hand so that the point is facing downwards. Then he simply rams the blade through Jeb’s back.

A scream of pain rips from Jeb’s throat. Draven yanks the blade back out. More screams echo through the midday air as Jeb rolls over on his side. His body convulses and he coughs blood onto the pale stones before him.

Draven doesn’t even bother to watch him as he dies slowly and in pain instead of the quick death Tommen got. Instead, he raises his bloodstained blade and points it at the other contestants. Several of them flinch.

“Let this serve as a reminder.” He points to where Jeb is still writhing and coughing blood on the ground. “This is what will happen if you try to kill Selena, or any of your fellow contestants, outside of the trials. Understood?”

Everyone quickly nods.

“Good.” Draven yanks his sword down and effortlessly slits Jeb’s throat, at last ending his torment. “Dismissed.”

Everyone scatters immediately.

I pull back from the window while confusion swirls inside my skull. There was something odd about what just happened. It didn’t look like a simple execution of a random contestant who broke the rules. Instead, it felt almost… personal.

Shaking my head, I push those strange musings aside. I have more important things to deal with right now. Like getting out of here.

Moving away from the window, I hurry over to the closed door on the wall opposite the bed. I pause for a second, pressing my ear against the wood, and try to see if I can hear anything.

No sound makes it through the door.

After casting a glance over my shoulder, I carefully edge the handle down. Thankfully, it’s not locked. I open the door a tiny crack and glance through it.

Disappointment flits through me when it turns out to just be a spacious private bathroom. After checking to make sure that there is no one in there, and no way out either, I close the door again and instead hurry over to the other door.

I repeat the same process. First, I just listen against the wood to see if I can pick up any sounds. Then I push the handle down.

To my great annoyance, this door turns out to be locked. I glare at it and rattle the handle a few times too for good measure. The stubborn door remains uncooperative.

With a sigh, I move back from the door and instead sweep my gaze over the rest of the bedroom. There might be a key somewhere in here.

I get to work.

When I’m halfway through one of the bookcases, a metallic clicking sound suddenly comes from the door. I whirl around and grab the closest hard object I can reach. Which turns out to be a book. I have just managed to raise it in a position ready to swing when the door is pulled open.

My heart jerks as Draven walks through.

Without even looking towards me, he pulls the door shut behind him and locks it again. Then he at last turns towards the bed. He stops. Blinks. Apparently surprised to not find me in the bed, he casts a stunned look around the room.

His gaze lands on me.

For a moment, no one says anything.

Then he flicks a quick glance at the book I have raised to swing with both hands. And for a second, I swear that a hint of amusement blows across his lips.

Then that arrogant expression is back on his features, and he nods towards the book. “Planning to hit me with that, are you?”

The sound of his voice yanks me out of my stupor. With a huff, I set the book down and then cross my arms over my chest instead. I wait for Draven to say something else.

He doesn’t. He only continues watching me with an expression I can’t read.

That flustered feeling in my chest falters, and the memories from last night once more flash before my eyes. I let my arms drop back down by my sides, suddenly feeling awkward and uncertain.

“You saved me,” I say, my voice coming out sounding as confused and uncertain as I feel.

The unreadable mask stays on his face as he simply replies, “Yes.”

“How?”

“I’m pretty sure you were still conscious for that part.”

“No, I mean, how did you know that I needed help?”

“It was a very loud fight.”

“No one else in our corridor heard it.”

“I have better hearing than they do.”

“But—”

“Most people just say thank you when someone saves their life.”

I snap my mouth shut as my cheeks flush. Because Goddess above, he’s right, isn’t he? Regardless of everything else that he has done to me, he did save my life last night.

So I swallow and then clear my throat before saying, “Thank you.”

A small smirk plays over his lips. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I shoot him a scowl, already regretting that I ever thanked the bastard. Then my gaze flits down to the smooth skin on my forearm, where the deep cut used to be. Raising my gaze, I meet his eyes again.

“You made the leader of the Orange Dragon Clan heal me,” I say. It comes out like something halfway between a statement and a question.

Draven shrugs and then starts towards one of the closets. “Yes. I couldn’t very well have you bleeding all over my room, now could I?”

Shock hits me like a brick to the face. My mouth drops open as I just stare at him.

“This is your room?” I manage to blurt out eventually.

“Yes.”

I blink at him in stunned disbelief. “Why did you bring me here?”

He stops halfway to his closet and instead turns to look at me again. After flicking a dismissive look up and down my body, he arches an eyebrow at me. “I didn’t do it because I care about you, if that’s what you’re wondering. I just saw a chance and took it.”

Heat flushes my cheeks, because for a moment there, I did wonder if he might actually have done it because he cares about me. About my safety, if nothing else. But apparently not.

Trying to block out that flash of embarrassment, I instead ask, “A chance for what?”

A truly villainous smile spreads across his lips as he holds my gaze. “A chance to keep you locked up in here so that you will miss the next trial.”