Page 256 of House Ignis

Gods, Ezra looked just as dangerous.

His black suit fit him like shadow given form, the crisp white shirt stark against his sun-warmed skin.

His auburn hair had been swept back, though a few rebellious strands still fell across his brow, though a few rebellious strands still fell across his brow, softening nothing about the intensity of his gaze.

Ember’s hand was hooked through his arm.

A declaration. A challenge. A claim.

My chest tightened, a sharp pang of longing hitting me so hard I nearly faltered.

I wished—gods, I wished—my hand was wrapped around Asher’s instead. I wanted to show him off to my court.

I wanted them to see the male who had unraveled me.

The one who had ruined me and then left me standing here to face this alone.

But he wasn't here.

So I lifted my chin higher, letting the gold shimmer on my skin catch the light, and stepped fully into the fire.

As we walked past tables filled with nobles and royals from across the kingdoms glittering beneath glowing chandeliers—I swiped a champagne flute straight off a passing waiter’s tray.

Ember and Ezra followed suit, their movements as fluid and practiced as my own.

Aether and the rest of the boundlings peeled away toward the outer gardens, where a massive designated space had been cleared for them to feast.

I didn’t question where Aether disappeared to when he claimed his "personal space." He was likely hunting, terrorizing a nobleman's prize hound, or both.

I watched them go.

Ruin and Havoc immediately bounded after him, both of their heads snapping playfully at his obsidian tail.

Aether whipped around with a vicious, low-throated hiss, his ears flattening against his skull.

“Ava, please get these mutts away from me,” he seethed through the bond. “Their enthusiasm is offensive.”

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it, sharp and genuine.

“Ava, darling.”

My father’s voice cut through the music like a blade of flame. I turned instinctively.

King Solren stood at the center of the ballroom like he had been forged from the sun itself.

Tall, broad, and impossible to ignore His golden-brown eyes locked onto mine, achingly similar to my own—bright beneath a crown of sun-pale hair now streaked faintly with silver.

A beard framed his jaw, sharpening the brutal handsomeness that had made entire courts fear him long before he ever sat on the throne. Power rolled off him in waves, thick enough to make the air shimmer.

He was a true fire wielder.

Not only the King of Zymarra, but the King of Lyr’n’dell. The whole fucking continent.

The Fire Kingdom had claimed that throne for centuries. And one day, that same damn throne would be mine.

A king who had burned kingdoms to keep ours standing.

He opened his arms, and I went. Smoke. Ash. Heat.