‘Don’t you feel it after you use your fire?’ Michael asked. ‘When it settles in your stomach, don’t you feel the urge to eat?’
‘No.’ The word came out quietly. Not ever feeling it in the stomach was one thing, but not recognising the potential havoc it wrecked on my body? It felt soul-crushing, but I doubted my minuscule fire could even evoke such a reaction. I could have told them my fire wasn’t strong enough to do that, but I didn’t trust them. Not yet. They’d judge me, maybe worse. They’d find out eventually, but for now, I wanted something almost normal. Conversation. Company.
‘That’s why you’re so small then,’ the king barked, still addressing Michael, though the insult was aimed at me. ‘You keep starving your power. Our women aren’t usually this dainty unless they’re sick.’
I blinked, stunned. ‘I’m a perfectly normal size for a witch, thank you.’
‘Fire-breathers are sturdier,’ he said mockingly. ‘Females usually reach at least five ten.’
‘Well, I’m a halfling,’ I shot back. His wide grin told me he was enjoying this. ‘Besides, haven’t we established I’m not one of you?’
‘That’s no excuse. You breathe fire, yet you look half-dead. It’s because you don’t feed your powers.’ The toneof his voice was infuriatingly calm. ‘Fire-breathing is a privilege. Clearly wasted on you.’
The words hit deeper than I expected. Yes, I lost weight; stress did that, but to say I didn’t deserve my fire?
I pushed back my chair. This was enough. I was used to insults in the Ortensian court, but hearing them here cut differently.
‘Thank you for dinner. It’s late, and I should go,’ I said, keeping my voice polite. There was no point in arguing. Like everyone else, they would never see my worth.
‘No, stop.’ Michael’s eyes softened as he stood. ‘You don’t have to leave yet, we—’
The king huffed. ‘She’s not leaving.’
Both our heads snapped to him. Tone calm but commanding, his words didn’t make sense.
‘You want to train this late?’ I asked.
‘Don’t,’ Michael warned quietly.
Dread twisted in my chest as something deep inside me, a sense that usually remained dormant, now thrashed, making the situation all the more dangerous.
‘You’re not leaving, princess,’ the king said, watching me closely. He flicked his wrist, and a wall of fire roared across the doorway. ‘You’re staying here from now on.’
His gaze caught mine and held it like a spell, rooting me to the spot as though he were waiting for me to respond, only so he could crush it.
Hopelessness clawed up my spine. I couldn’t fight him; he’d crush me. My mother wouldn’t reach me here. I had to think.
‘Why would I do that?’ I challenged, struggling to stay calm. ‘The treaty says you can’t imprison any Ortensian during training unless they commit a crime. I’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Indeed, but you’re a fire-breather, princess. That alone bends the rule. Technically, your power falls under mydominion; that makes you my subject. Being a halfling complicates things, of course, but now I know your dragon originates from Fogoya, too. That makes it easier.’
His aura pulsed with satisfaction. My stomach turned to ice.
No.
I refused to trade one cage for another. He was supposed to help me get rid of my mother’s chains, not shackle me in his own. Tears welled in my eyes. ‘You can’t do this. My mother will do anything to get me back. She’ll slaughter your people.’
For a heartbeat, something like compassion flickered behind his eyes. Then it vanished under a cold laugh. ‘Your mother,’ he said, spitting the word like an insult, ‘has been trying to do that for centuries. What makes you think she’ll succeed now?’
He stepped closer, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Knowing his mind was set, I still warned him that the Ortensian Queen wouldn’t stop until she got me back… and he savoured every single one of my pleas.
Chapter Six
Avari
The following day was perhaps the most uneventful of my life. My days in Ortensia had never been thrilling, but I'd never felt chained to the castle. Now I did.
All I managed through the long hours of my new predicament was lying in bed and wallowing in self-pity, encased within the greenish walls of my newly acquired Fogoyan room, which I tried hard not to think of as a cell. The more I dwelled on what had happened, the more paralysed I felt, and the walls seemed to close in around me.
