Kingdom of Fire

by Ana Calin

  “Not exactly orthodox, you say.” My mouth curls like I’ve got lemon on the tip of my tongue. “Is feeding them food that drains the life out of them also just a little bit unorthodox?” My voice rises, but I don’t care. How could I just accept the torture I’ve seen that creature go through? “Food that destroys them on the inside? Maybe it would have been better to just kill them.”

  “Believe it or not, what we do to them isn’t an act of cruelty. It’s a security measure. Fire fae aren’t the most dangerous creatures we keep here, but they’re the only ones who could form groups in order to work together to get out. They know they have a strong leader out there, one who indoctrinated them that they would one day command all the realms, and they’ve been set on that goal for years.”

  “That wasn’t the vibe I got in the Fire Realm, let me tell you,” I argue.

  “How long have you even been there? Hardly long enough to get a feeling for how those people think and feel.”

  “I was there long enough to be cheered on as their queen.” Until I betrayed the King, and lost everything. My heart cringes at the thought, but a lot is at stake here, so I push it away. This isn’t about me. “I know they were over the moon that the war was over. I see you are well informed, but not well enough, King Lysander. One of my conditions for marrying Xerxes was that he would relinquish all thoughts and desires of taking over the realms. I loved him, I couldn’t resist the mates’ bond, but I could have refused to become his wife. He agreed to my terms, and his entire kingdom was ecstatic about it. I can’t guarantee they’ll be as happy to remain peaceful now, not after what you’ve done to them. You’re purging the Flipside of them as if they were an infested people or something, a disease that could spread out. Try to rise above your actions, King Lysander, and I guarantee you’ll recognize the pattern thinking of a villain in yourself.”

  He doesn’t answer, but I can tell by his glowing blue gaze that I’m getting to him. Despite my bitter reproaches now, King Lysander is a force of good. He’s been keeping watch over the borders to the mortal realm, and he’s been in charge with capturing and punishing trespassers, and those who performed magic in the mortal realm for many years now. He’s been forced to take brutal action more than once, but he never does it gratuitously. I know that, if I can put things in the right perspective, I’ll manage to buy Xerxes’ freedom. With that hope in my heart, I continue.

  “Fire fae became villains because the others vilified them first. Yes, they turned abrasive after fighting cosmic behemoths and their heinous minions for thousands of years, and because of their PTSD they seemed odd and off. But it was those they protected that started committing crimes against them. If you think back long enough, you’ll realize that I’m right.”

  “She’s got a point, brother,” Sandros argues. He gets off the window ledge, gesticulating with the dagger and the polishing stone as he speaks. “I know it’s not official,” he tells me, “but I know it’s also obvious—I’m half fire fae. I was the target of prejudice more than once, before people learned I was the Ice King’s half-brother. Then, of course, they changed their attitude, and became all honey-tongued. But I’d gotten to see who they truly were, and I can confirm that you’re right, Miss Dark. Or is it now Queen Blazeborn?”

  I manage to smile. “I kind of like the sound of that. I don’t know for how long I’m going to keep that title, though.”

  “Yes, we know about your supposed betrayal of Xerxes. But you don’t strike us as a treacherous wife. In fact, you seem pretty obstinate to help your husband no matter what, so what is foul about the story?”

  I take a deep breath, my shoulders slouching. No point in hiding the truth anymore, not from them.

  “Kareim and Marayke Velduros set me up. They both had their reasons at first, but meanwhile Marayke has switched sides.” I puff. “She almost likes me now. Anyway, long story short, they arranged for Samael to teleport to my chamber three nights before the wedding. I didn’t share the royal master bedroom with Xerxes then, we kept to the traditions.

  “Samael demanded that I give myself over to him, if I wanted to save Xerxes and his realm. He gave me three days, but I just couldn’t bring myself to leave Xerxes at the altar. I couldn’t bring myself to break his heart, so I kept pushing the moment away. But then I pushed too far.” I look down as the memory of my bouquet catching fire flashes through my mind. The omen. Not even then did I take the hint, I should have left Xerxes then and there.

  “If I’d only gone to Samael sooner, he wouldn’t have attacked the Fire Realm. By the time I was about to do it, though, Xerxes had gone to battle, and his people imprisoned me. They knew I was the traitor. There was a trial with the courts, and some suggested some really creative ways in which to punish me and make me suffer, but unfortunately for them, the only solution that would have made Samael pull back his forces was to turn me over. Some people saw reason and advised Xerxes to just let me go, but he refused.” My eyes meet Lysander’s again. “Instead, he decided that we should come here, and seek your help.”

  The King of Frost’s face warms with every one of my words. I can see he understands and feels more than I’m saying. And I know it’s because he knows the love that comes with a mates’ bond, he has a deep understanding of it.

  “Why didn’t you just tell Xerxes the truth? He would have found a solution, he would have gotten you out of your terrible predicament,” Lysander says.

  “Kareim threatened that, if I told Xerxes, he had everything in place so that the Council of the Arcane would unite all the realms against Xerxes and the Fire Realm—to which I feel deeply responsible. Those people are nothing like what you think they are. They took me into their hearts as their Queen, there are no words to describe the experience. They’re a deeply scarred, damaged people, but under all that they have souls of gold.”

  Silence falls in the room, not even the courts behind Lysander dare breathe. Soon Sandros resumes polishing his dagger, the sharp swish of stone on metal whipping through the air.

  “Say I do it,” Lysander finally says. “Say I come and help Xerxes against Samael. What happens to you when this is over? Xerxes thinks you betrayed him—even though after how you risked your life to save him today, jumping in front of my sword, he should at least question your betrayal. In his place, I would have considered it was a set up without you saying anything.”

  “Xerxes can’t be trusted no matter what, not even now that he knows the redeeming emotion of love,” one of the courts chimes in. “Think about his army of Undead. What sort of creature would create such an abomination?”

  “He doesn’t make them anymore,” Sandros corrects him.

  “But he still has them,” the man argues, and all the others murmur in consent. It reactivates my obsession with how Xerxes made these creatures.

  Discussion starts among Lysander’s closest courts, all of them positioning themselves against giving Xerxes a chance. One of them even suggests the worst.

  “Let him rot in the tower, Milord, and let war descend upon his realm. With Hell involved in this and no longer neutral, many realms will join the battle, and we’ll finally put an end to the reign of fear.”

  “Are you an idiot?” Sandros snaps. The man takes a step back, hiding behind a stouter one, but he still meets Sandros’ gaze defiantly. “Without Xerxes and his armies, who have been training to fight the cosmic behemoths for millennia, we don’t stand a chance against them.”

  “We were perfectly capable of defending against worse things,” another man says.

  “No, not worse things. We don’t have the experience or the training to do what the Fire Realm does,” King Lysander supports his half-brother. “We would need to at least work with them to learn at least a small part of what they’re doing, and how they’re doing it.”

  “If you’re considering letting Xerxes out of the tower and marching our armies to help him, I’m out of this Milord,” a third court threatens.

  “Really?” the oldest and wisest-look
ing one says, a man with a white glowing staff, and hair like white cotton candy. “And where exactly would you be going if you were out?”

  “He is right, Lord Iridion,” Lysander tells the old man in a kind voice. “He only voiced what many will think. The Winter Realm and the Fire Realm go way back with each other, a lot of things have happened, including a war that almost destroyed all the worlds. But there is one way to know whether Xerxes really changed, whether we can trust him, now that he knows what love is.” He turns to me. “There is a test that will tell us exactly whether Xerxes crossed to the side of the good, or whether he’s faking it. The only problem is...” He licks his lips, hands behind his back. He’s wary to say it, but he must. “There are only two possible outcomes. He either passes the test, or he dies.”

  CHAPTER VI

  Cerys

  MY HEART BEATS LIKE crazy in my chest as we wait for Xerxes to be brought into the Hall of Truth. Lysander, Sandros and I are standing on a round, perfectly polished stage perched on top of a set of sumptuous stairs. The surface is so smooth I can see a blurry version of myself reflected in it, the patterns on the polish like a spiral, centering on the statue of what seems to be a wraith. A hooded figure, hunchbacked, its bones protruding through the sculpted cloak, its claws and knotty fingers curling over the edge of a mirror.

  It’s a special mirror, I could tell from a distance. Oval and tall enough to fit Lysander in it, with frames made of what looks like intertwining tree branches, the pane is as smooth and luscious as the floor. It’s also impossible to see a perfect reflection of myself in it, as if the glass has a special kind of frosting.

  Behind the sculpted hooded figure, the courts are waiting with their silver hoods pulled over their faces. I can still feel their hostility. Every cell of their bodies wishes that Xerxes will fail this test, while I go dizzy with angst.

  The muscles in my back contract the moment the grand doors open, and the guards bring in Xerxes, his hands bound behind his back. My heart sinks, and my chin trembles.

  “What in the cursed realms have you done with him?” I howl like a hurt animal as they drop him on his knees at the top of the stairs. I fall in front of him, tears streaming down my face. They’d kept him in magic ice chains that burned his skin, leaving wounds covered with an icy crust. His lips are cracked, and livid, and he’s so cold it seems that ice has crept into his very veins, freezing the lava in them. That’s why he could barely walk. He’s so exhausted he can hardly lift his head to look at me, his skin and his muscles making cracking sounds like the bones of an old man, but when he meets my eyes, there’s no denying what I see.

  “You,” he manages. “You never betrayed me. It was Kareim. Lysander told me everything.”

  “You did what?” I snap back at the King of Frost, but he looks down at me unapologetically.

  “This is Xerxes’ final test,” he says. “If he makes it out of it alive, he will have my support all through his war with Samael, and not even the Council of the Arcane will be able to dissolve the alliance. I will take a blood oath to fight against Hell at Xerxes’ side if he passes this test, because then I will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will never betray us. That he will never try to take over the worlds again. That’s why you need not fear what Kareim Velduros might try. Also, the only payment I require for my help, is that Xerxes gets to keep you. As for the other possibility, where he doesn’t pass the test, well.” He shrugs as if that’s nothing. “There will be no one out there to tell Kareim that you betrayed your agreement.”

  “But if he dies, she will have to fulfill her promise to Samael, and give herself over to him,” one of the courts adds, but he is met with a fierce glare from Lysander.

  “That won’t happen under any circumstances.” He looks down at Xerxes with a compassion in his ice blue eyes that tells me everything—he understands what Xerxes feels. “Even if the King of Fire fails this test and loses his life, I will protect his Queen to the death. I promise that.”

  “Forgive me,” Xerxes manages, making me turn my tearful eyes to him. I can barely see him through the blur, tears flowing uncontrollably down my face. There’s fire in his irises, but it’s low, dying.

  “His life force is leaving him,” I plead to Lysander. “How is he supposed to make it through this test in this condition?”

  “Oh, he will be fighting a special kind of enemy,” Lysander explains calmly. “One that will have the same amount of strength at every given time. The balance of power between the two of them is bound to be on par at all times. The only way one of them can defeat the other is through a different kind of power.”

  With that, he moves out of the way, and two guards grab Xerxes by his arms. They drop him again in front of the mirror. Panic fills me, and I want to throw myself at him, place myself in front of the mirror, but Sandros intercepts me.

  “Let it happen,” he says in my ear. “There’s nothing you can do to help him anyway.”

  When Xerxes raises his eyes to the mirror’s surface it starts to defrost, turning into a whirling mist. When the mist clears, it reveals a set of stairs, and down those stairs a figure comes, dark and emitting rays of shadow and smoke. The closer it gets, the harder it is to tell where the smoke ends and the shadow begins. The mirror goes dark with it, and a humming fills the hall, the finest hairs standing all over me in dread.

  The creature steps out of the shimmering darkness, and my fingers curl into Sandros’ studded leather arm guard. The creature’s eyes are flames, staring down at Xerxes like death. It seems entirely made of shadow and smoke, and it smells of Samael. Of Hell.

  The guards uncuff Xerxes and take distance, watching him come up to his feet heavily. My heart beats hard enough to break my chest. My first impulse is to try and drain the creature of whatever power supplies it, but when I feel my way into it, I stop breathing.

  His energy. It’s the same energy signature as Xerxes’. This is a creature of the underworld, and yet if I drain its power, or even try to kill it, I would be killing my husband at the same time.

  “There’s nothing you can do but wait,” Sandros says, quietly, just for me. I cling to his voice like to a rock in the middle of a raging ocean. “Only Xerxes can deal with it. The dice have been cast now. All we can do is stand aside and let it happen.”

  Xerxes

  I BURST INTO LAUGHTER, the sound filling the hall. Indeed, I should have seen this coming. There was talk of a magic mirror kept secret in the Winter Realm, one that could generate a creature that had the ability to defeat anyone. Absolutely anyone, no matter how strong or ancient. Even the devil himself. It could defeat even Samael. All except the cosmic behemoths.

  I know exactly who this is, and I’m not even surprised. It is indeed the best way to find out if my intentions are true.

  The creature in front of me, eyes blazing, and body emitting shadow and smoke, is known as the Dark Side of the Moon. The other face each of us sees in the magic mirror. He is that part of us that never sees the light of day. Even the darkest supernaturals, like me, like Samael, even Lucifer, we all have a Dark Side of the Moon that never turns to face the sun. Only that, in Lucifer’s case, it would be, for example, an archangel, a creature of the good. In the case of Hades, the Lord of the Underworld, Cerys’ father, he would probably be facing a god of life, one that would shed rays of generosity on the souls trapped in Tartarus. Now I’m facing a creature blazing out darkness, which can only mean that on the inside I’m not that dark after all. Not anymore, and I don’t even know if that’s good or bad.

  It’s hard to make out the features of the creature’s face beyond the rippling darkness that he consists of, but I can feel the pressure of his stare. I hold it, blankly, not a muscle moving on my face. What’s about to happen is going to determine not only whether Lysander and I will become allies, but also which side of me will take control for good.

  The creature roars in a metallic, gritty, collective voice, as if a horde of demons were swirling inside of it. A blade o
f fire takes shape in its hand—my blade of fire—and he swings it at me full force. I duck to the side, my own blade of flame forming from my own field of energy. I drive it sideways into him as I duck to the side. But the blade cuts through him like it would through mist, and he regroups into one entity before I can blink.

  Cerys screams from the edge of the stage, the courts are watching intensely, and the vibes I get from Lysander tell me that he’s actually hoping for me to win, but I have to tune them all out. I knew from the start that fighting myself won’t be the same as fighting just another enemy. The blade is only going to help him, but not me. All I can do is move out of his way as he attacks, the fire in my veins coming back to life, melting the frost away. Soon the exercise and will to win have restored me to my original temperature, and my moves become quicker, swifter, and more efficient.

  The creature roars in frustration, shadow and smoke curling off of it, making him look like a frustrated ball of black energy. But that doesn’t bring me any closer to my goal. I need to eliminate the creature, or—Wait.

  It hits me. We come face to face, moving in a circle, eyes trained on each other, waiting for the other to make the next move, and I understand. This creature is a part of me. I can’t kill him without eliminating a big chunk of myself as well, one that I’ve spent years building up and strengthening. He stepped out of the mirror, and that’s where he has to return. The solution is to banish him.

  And how do you banish a creature of the dark, if not by making its stay in your dimension unbearable. So I take the risk when, circling the shadow with my eyes trained on it, I reach the spot where Lysander stands, watching us closely. I spin around, and grab the hilt of his royal ice sword from its sheath at his hip. Gasps and screams travel everywhere, but I’m too quick for anyone to react, since the element of surprise was completely in my favor. I can’t give them the chance to jump me, and return my attention to the creature, making it clear I have no intention of attacking the King of Frost.