‘Um, it was. The trees were eager to connect,’ I rushed to explain myself. ‘The forest felt lonely.’
His curiosity unsettled and electrified me. Men like him thrived on hidden motives. When his eyes suddenly grew sharper, he snarled, ‘Do anything to my land and I will break your neck. I’ll enjoy it.’
I believed him. Yet his words lacked the venom I’d expected. It was as if he merely wanted to make sure I stayed in line. He confused me. Though I feared him or what he might do to me, I had to admit that being around people again felt… pleasing. It was pathetic. At the Ortensian court, no one spoke to me unless required. Life as a fire-wielder among water people had been one of silence and isolation.
But here in Fogoya, I’d spoken more in two days than in weeks at home. Even if most of it consisted of threats and complaints, he still made me feel more alive than I had in years—if only because he forced me to keep my fire constantly in check.
My mother’s orders were clear: keep him from bonding with a dragon, but he was my best chance at freedom, and I would not waste it.
After the king declared he needed to tend to some of his duties that afternoon and ended our session, he sent me back to the castle to have dinner with Michael. I roamed the endless maze of corridors, trying to find my way back to the dining room, but there didn’t seem to be any staff, and shouting for Michael’s help proved useless.
Exhausted and hungrier than I had ever been, I eventually gave up and sank onto the polished floor, afraid I might pass out. Connecting to this land was as phenomenal as it was draining.
Across from me, a dim light illuminated an old family portrait. I studied it, hoping someone would find me. It feltlike hours as I counted the buttons on the women’s dresses over and over again, trying to focus on anything other than the growing ache in my stomach. I must have drifted off because I woke to a prickling heat spreading across my arm.
When I opened my eyes, the king towered over me, one of his flames curling up my cotton sleeve. The fabric yellowed and sizzled, the smell of it burning making me nauseous as I scrambled to smother the fire. The skin beneath was already blistering.
So that was how he decided to wake me... Again, I was reminded how badly I needed to hone my fire if I wanted to survive near him. Near anyone. One day, I would have my vengeance.
‘What are you doing here?’ His tone dripped with mockery, the smirk on his lips infuriating. ‘Didn’t I tell you to get dinner?’
‘Oh, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?’ I shouted, daring to meet his gaze. ‘Only I don’t know this castle. There’s no staff anywhere. How was I supposed to find the dining room after seeing it once in my life? This place goes on forever.’
Disrespecting someone like him was reckless, but I didn’t care. I braced for the outcome: a slap, a blast of fire, maybe a cutting remark. Instead, his lips curved into a slow, dark smile that raised the hairs on my arms.
‘I see hunger’s a sore spot too. Who would have thought.’ Gaze lingering on the smoke rising from my sleeve, his eyes gleamed with amusement. The less I held myself together, the more it entertained him. ‘Follow me.’
We walked through endless corridors and staircases until I was certain he’d taken the longest route on purpose. When we finally reached the dining room, a feast already covered the marble table.
My head spun and my stomach growled viciously. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this hungry. Connecting to nature always took its toll, but this felt extreme. Theforest’s power had drained me more than I realised. It felt like I was on the brink of starvation.
We took our previous seats, and I barely noticed Michael sitting opposite. Too focused on the food, I piled potatoes, salad and eggs onto my plate and took a blissful bite that melted in my mouth.
A quiet moan slipped out before I could stop it. Both pairs of eyes snapped in my direction. Of course. Fae hearing.
My cheeks burned, and I froze, then carried on eating. Let them judge. My stomach was a bottomless pit, and I wasn’t stopping until it was full.
Once I had eaten enough to feel whole again, I finally noticed how quiet the table was. Michael was there with us again. Was staff having dinners with their king a regular occurrence in Fogoya?
‘I’m sorry, princess,’ Michael murmured softly, his expression tight.
‘What are you sorry for?’
‘I was supposed to walk you back,’ he explained. ‘I was late and you suffered.’
My brow pinched. The only reason I’d suffered was because his monarch decided to set me on fire, but that wasn’t Michael’s fault. ‘You’ve nothing to apologise for. I got lost, that’s all.’
His concerned gaze shifted to his king. ‘I thought you were angry that we left you to fend for yourself. I heard your conversation with R—’ He caught himself under his monarch’s glare. ‘With the king. You seemed very displeased.’
So he’d been eavesdropping. Wonderful.
‘I wasn’t myself, actually. I’m sorry,’ I admitted, feeling heat creep into my cheeks again. The monarch noticed, of course. His gaze dropped to my flushed skin, eyes glinting. Every bit of my discomfort pleased him.
‘If there’s one thing we fire-breathers share, it’s that we don’t handle hunger well,’ he claimed after a moment ofpause. Then his eyes darkened, shifting from molten amber to hazel—the same look he’d worn when he threatened me earlier.
‘What does that mean? Are fire-breathers more prone to hunger?’ I asked, genuinely curious.
They exchanged puzzled looks. It must have been common knowledge to them, but it wasn’t a symptom water-wielders suffered from, so how could I know? Witchcraft could sometimes cause bodily reactions like exhaustion and hunger, but it wasn’t common among strong witches. I wasn’t one.
