Page 81 of Only Flames Remain

Sorin stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel his breath fanning across my face as he spoke. The smell of spice and ash filled my nostrils. My instincts told me to take a step back. Despite that nagging voice in my head, I stayed put, feet planted.

When he reached out to tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear, my skin sparked. His touch was warm against my skin, burning. I frowned in confusion.

“What is it?” he asked, concern evident in the lines of his face. His mouth parted, dark eyes assessing.

When he had touched me before—I felt smooth, glassy water coating my skin. The taste of salt and brine filling my mouth. Since his return to Stormgaard, I now felt the exact opposite. It was precisely what I had expected to feel the first time…fire and brimstone. A flame beneath his skin. Was this his Vireth magic at work? Or something else entirely?

I pressed my eyes closed, shaking my head as his large hand cupped my cheek.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said.

Sorin laughed humorlessly. “It should be, yes.” He allowed his hand to drop back to his side. The lack of his touch brought with it a sinking feeling. I cursed myself. “But it isn’t.”

He turned from me, toward the interiors of his chambers. He did not glance back to see if I followed. I swallowed hard, gathering my skirts as I dashed after him.

“What does that mean?” I asked at his back.

His stride was easily two of mine and I had to race to keep up as he opened the bedroom door to the corridor beyond.

“It means, you won’t be going to the dungeons. Today, anyway,” he replied, not bothering to turn back toward me.

I halted past the threshold of the doorway, dropping my skirts to the etched stone floor. I frowned at his retreating back.

“And why not?”

I had to muster the confidence to project my voice across the corridor knowing that other fae and servants would be milling about these halls and could overhear.

This time, he did stop. His shoulders rose as he took a heaving breath and turned back toward me, gaze sparking with amusement.

“Because I haven’t decided what to do with you just yet.”

I should be happy with his answer. That I wasn’t to be immediately sentenced to death and executed for my crime against him and the kingdom of Gothryn. My mouth fell open in confusion, and despite my better judgment, I pushed.

“Why is that?”

Sorin ran a hand down his face, suppressing a mirthless laugh. I was wearing on his patience, that much was clear.

“Aveline…return to your room and prepare for the ball. You’ll find a selection of dresses there for you to choose from. I will see you tonight.”

“Am I not to return to my duties as your indenture now that we have returned to Gothryn?” I asked.

Sorin gave an exasperated huff. “We can drop the charade. I will no longer pretend I did not have ulterior motives to keep you close, and you no longer need to pretend you did not come here to murder me.”

What did he mean by that? What ulterior motives?

I opened my mouth to protest one last time, but he was gone within a blink. He had disappeared either up the spiral staircase toward the higher reaches of the tower, or down toward the main hall.

I darted to the landing, my skirts pooling around my ankles as I came to a stop. I searched up and down, but there was no trace of which way Sorin had gone.

I was alone.

My hand pressed against my sternum as a hysterical laugh bubbled to my lips. I had tried to poison the prince and stood to suffer no consequence as a result.

I just might be able to escape this charade with my life.

With a smirk, I started toward the indenture dormitories.

I needed to get ready for the ball tonight—but there was one thing I needed to do first.