A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

There was no movement from the dais, where the Queen and King of Lasania sat upon their diamond-and-citrine-jeweled thrones, watching the approaching Lord. The golden crowns of leaves atop their heads shone brightly in the candlelight, and while my stepfather’s eyes held a sheen of fevered hope, my mother’s showed utterly nothing. Standing stiffly beside the King, the heir to the kingdom appeared somewhere between half-asleep and annoyed by the responsibility that required his presence. Knowing Tavius, he’d likely prefer to be at least three cups deep in ale and between some woman’s legs by this time of the evening.

Queen Calliphe broke the tense silence, her voice crisp in the warm, heavy air thick with the scent of roses. “I did not expect you to answer the offer our Advisor made to your Crown.” Her tone was unmistakable. The Vodina Isle Lord’s presence was an insult. He was not royalty. And his actions were clear. He did not care. “Do you speak on behalf of your King and Queen?”

Lord Claus stopped several feet from the Royal Guard, his unflinching stare tilted upward. He didn’t answer as his gaze traveled over the dais to the many columned alcoves. Beside me, Sir Holland, a knight of the Royal Guard, tensed, his grip on the sword at his waist tightening as the Lord’s survey glossed over me and snapped back.

I held his stare, an act I’d surely be reprimanded for later, but only a handful of people in the entire kingdom knew that I was the last of the Mierel bloodline, a Princess. And even less knew that I had been the Maiden promised to the Primal of Death. This smug Lord didn’t even know that the only reason he was standing here was because I had failed Lasania.

Even though I stood in the shadows, Lord Claus’s slow perusal was like a sweaty caress, lingering on the bare skin of my arms and the cut of my bodice before reaching my eyes. His lips puckered, blowing me a kiss.

I arched a brow.

His smirk slipped.

Queen Calliphe noted the direction of his attention and stiffened. “Do you speak on behalf of your Crown?” she repeated.

“I do.” Lord Claus shifted his attention back to the dais.

“And do you have an answer?” the Queen asked as a rust-colored stain spread across the bottom of the burlap sack. “Does your Crown accept our allegiance in exchange for aid?”

Two years’ worth of crops. Barely enough to supplement the farm’s loss to the Rot.

“I have your answer.” Lord Claus tossed the sack forward.

It hit the marble with an oddly wet-sounding smack before rolling across the tile. Something round spilled out of the bag, leaving a spattering trail of…red behind. Brown hair. Ghastly pale complexion. Jagged strips of skin. Severed bone.

The head of Lord Sarros, Advisor to the Queen and King of Lasania, bounced off a Royal Guard’s booted foot.

“Dear gods,” gasped Tavius, jerking back a step.

“That’s our answer to your shit offer of allegiance.” Lord Claus edged back a step, hand going to the hilt of his sword.

“Huh,” Sir Holland murmured as several Royal Guards reached for their weapons. “Was not expecting that.”

I turned my head toward him, detecting what I thought was a hint of morbid amusement in the features of his deep brown skin.

“Cease,” King Ernald ordered, lifting a hand. The Royal Guard halted.

“Now that I expected,” Sir Holland added under his breath.

I clamped my jaw shut to stop myself from doing something incredibly inappropriate. I focused on my mother. There wasn’t a single flicker of emotion on the Queen’s face as she sat there, her neck stiff and chin high. “A simple no would’ve sufficed,” she stated.

“But would it have had the same impact?” Lord Claus countered, that half-grin returning. “The allegiance of a failing kingdom isn’t worth a day’s worth of crops.” He looked at the alcove and continued backing up. “But if you throw the hot piece over there into the deal, I may be convinced to petition the Vodina Crown on your behalf.”

The King white-knuckled the arms of the throne as Queen Calliphe said, “My handmaiden is not a part of the bargain.”

Just like my mother, I showed no emotion. Nothing. Handmaiden. Servant. Not daughter.

“Too bad.” Lord Claus climbed the short set of steps to the entrance of the Great Hall. Hand on the hilt of his sword, his elaborate bow was as much a mockery as what spilled from his well-formed lips. “Blessed be in the name of the Primals.”

Silence answered, and he pivoted, strolling out of the Great Hall. His laughter seeped into the hall as thick and cloying as the roses.

Queen Calliphe shifted forward as she looked at the alcove. Her gaze met mine, and a strange mix of emotions crawled over me. Love. Hope. Desperation. Anger. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked directly at me, but she did now, and it fueled the kernel of apprehension. “Show him what a hot piece you are,” she ordered, and Sir Holland cursed softly. “Show all the Lords of the Vodina Isles.”