For that reason, I also select not one, but two spare sets of clothing, including a spare pair of boots, and stuff them into a satchel.
We spin our clothing from fire-resistant thread, even our fine silks, which makes life easier for other Ember Fae. But it ultimately makes no difference for me. The fire-resistant material may burn more slowly but it can’t withstand my flames. Far better to be over-prepared than to stumble around naked.
Once dressed, I pull up the hood, tugging it low over my forehead, my fingers brushing the cut on my jaw where Cassia’s iron-tipped arrow cut and burned me yesterday. I may be able to heal broken bones in a flash, but an iron burn is not so quickly cured.
No matter. I’ll heal by tomorrow. I’m certain of it.
Quickly, I emerge into the blistering heat, my boots crunching in thesand.
I pull up short to find my sister, Zenaida, waiting at my cave’s entrance. “Zenaida?”
The dark-orange silks swathed around her body flutter in the scorching breeze as she takes a knee, her eyes lowered. “Brother.”
Only those at the top of the hierarchy call me anything but ‘my king.’ Zenaida is my only sibling and, to spare my people the threat of my presence, she takes care of day-to-day domestic matters for me. Similarly, my cousin Kaiba has proven himself a loyal General. He and Zenaida report to me each night.
Neither of them approaches me during the day unless there’s an emergency.
I’m immediately on guard. “What’s wrong?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She raises her eyes to mine and gives me a shrug. “Too many bad dreams. I needed a walk.”
My eyebrows rise at the irony of her calm reply, and I can’t keep the incredulity from my voice. “So you chose the very relaxing and completely safe option of strolling in my direction?”
In the scorching sun, no less.
The silks she wears over her head and body protect her tan skin from the sun’s worst effects, but the way the material clings to her forehead tells me she’s already beginning to sweat. Not a small thing for an Ember Fae.
The golden jewelry she wears close to her skin clinks softly as she rises gracefully to her feet. She folds her hands in front of herself, the first nervous gesture she’s made, although I’m not sure if she realizes it’s a tell—or that I recognize it.
“Perhaps I miss your company,” she says, tipping her chin.
“Or perhaps there’s something on your mind.”
The tension around her eyes increases as she says, “You need to choose a successor.”
Oof. Of all the problems I thought she might bring my way…
She may as well have punched me.
Asking me to choose a successor is akin to wishing me dead.
It also means she’s under pressure from the other families, and would have been for months, since I know my sister well enough to know she doesn’t move quickly. She never makes rash decisions. She considers all angles and strategizes thoroughly. It’s why I’ve trusted her to run my kingdom for years.
I force myself to speak past the tightness in my throat. “Is this coming from you or from the Ember Court?”
She doesn’t shuffle. Doesn’t flinch. “Both.”
It’s lucky my fire is so recently exhausted, or flames would lick around my hands. As it is, this might be one of the few times she can risk angering me.
Perhaps she chose her ‘walk’ at this time of day for that very reason.
I focus on breathing through the heat waves wafting around us, listening to the wind as it plucks at the sand and billows our clothing.
I guess she takes my silence as permission to continue speaking. “You don’t have a child, Maxim.”
“That’s fucking obvious.” My low snarl should deter her, but it seems she’s determined.
“It’s clear your ability to produce an heir is long past?—”
