A Fate of Wrath & Flame (Fate & Flame 1)

Zander’s attention shifts to the hearth, the logs stacked neatly in the grate. “I’ve already provided my answer for that suggestion.”

“But that was before Quill was poisoned.”

“And for all we know, that has nothing to do with Adley, and it was a message to you to let you know that you still have allies within the walls.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “Wouldn’t it be good to know that?”

His lips purse. He knows I’m right.

“Next time it could be Annika or Atticus who is poisoned. Or you.” What would happen to me if Zander died? Would they simply let me go?

“We are far too careful to allow something like that to happen to us, after our parents’ demise.” He pauses. “You are quick and persistent with your offers of help. Why do you feign to care what befalls us?”

“Because I have nothing better to do?” My flippant answer rolls off my tongue before I can stop myself.

His eyes narrow. “Or this demonstration of fervent support is an attempt to gain my trust?”

I snort. “We’ve both agreed that there is nothing I can do to gain that.” But it is becoming increasingly clear that Zander weighs every action and word out of my mouth, looking for duplicity. “Do you think in any way other than in angles?”

“Betrayal rarely approaches from a straight line.” He watches me evenly.

“Fair enough. How about this reason”—I lean forward—“because it’s worth trying before someone else dies.”

A long exhale slips from Zander’s lips. “We will see how things progress.”

At least that’s not a flat-out no. “What happens now?”

He studies his fingernail intently. “Boaz and his men are investigating. I suspect they won’t discover anything of import. People will be fraught with tension until they settle their nerves or someone else turns up dead.”

“Something to look forward to, then,” I mutter, curling my arms around my chest. The rain has brought damp and chilly air with it, and the hairs on my arms stand on end.

“You are cold,” Zander says.

“You don’t miss much, do you?”

“I do not miss anything. It is best you remember that.” His gaze is steady on me for a moment before it flips to the hearth and a rush of flames engulfs the logs in the iron grate.

My mouth drops. It’s the first time I’ve seen Zander use his affinity.

He chuckles. It’s the same easy, beguiling sound I heard in the sparring square earlier. “You look like the children who watch the priestesses light lanterns for the first time.”

“I guess they’re as new to it as I am. Or as I feel,” I quickly correct. “How did you do that? You can just set things on fire?”

He nods to the sconce on the wall, its flame dancing within the glass as if disturbed by a faint draft. “As long as there is a source, I can manipulate it in whichever way I choose.”

“And it’s the same for me with water?”

“As fun as it might be to teach my enemy how to use her element the moment her cuffs should come off, I’m afraid I must abstain,” he says dryly.

I let my head fall back as I release an obnoxious groan, earning another chuckle from him.

Zander isn’t in any rush to leave my bedchamber, his attention on the flames in the hearth, his thoughts seemingly miles away. What must it be like to sit upon that throne and rule all these people? To have the ultimate power and yet be wary of all those plotting to take it for themselves? It would make a person perpetually paranoid. I don’t envy him.

“What do you suppose will become of you once this charade”—he copies my gesture from earlier, waggling his finger between us—“is over?”

I’ll go home.Not to Ybaris, but to New York. I can’t say that. Sofie warned me not to, and until I know more about the nymphaeum, her words are my lifeline. “You mean, if I’m not a prisoner here anymore?”

“I do find it odd that you did not negotiate your release as part of this arrangement. It is almost as if you don’t expect to leave.”