Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,3
guests were motionless, their expressions appalled. Morran picked up his goblet, sipping the wine slowly. He sat back in his chair with an air of boredom, giving an approving nod to the vintage.
“My captains and I were generous,” Juradoc continued, a snarl creeping into this tone. “We stayed our hand because Eldaban bought our mercy. You swore the ancient power you shelter within your walls would be ours for the taking. And yet, tonight, you try to amuse us with clowns.”
“Blame the Master of Revels,” Dorth stuttered, his small eyes wide. “He insists on leading up to the highlights, building anticipation.”
Leena winced, suddenly worried for Tovas.
“Building anticipation?” Juradoc’s tone dripped with incredulity. He stopped, robes eddying around him. “Are we peasants at a fair?”
Blood draining from his cheeks, Lord Dorth sat without uttering another word. Leena almost pitied him.
“Do not think for a moment that we can be handled or impressed by trifles.” The Shade came to a stop before the high table, raising a hand to point at his host. “Do not presume upon my goodwill.”
Juradoc jumped onto the dais with a surprising lightness, then reached across the overflowing table to snatch the goblet from Morran’s hand. The Shade turned to the crowd, the heavy metal cup held aloft. Jewels winked along its golden rim.
Then, a pulse of green fire covered it—so quick, it was gone in a blink. But then the heavy gold powdered to black ash, sifting through Juradoc’s gloved fingers like sand.
Shade magic consumed all while leaving nothing behind.
Leena’s throat closed as memories of her home’s devastation crowded in. Entire villages and fields had turned to dust. The Shades had stripped the life from the mountains, leaving nowhere to live. Nothing but barren rubble.
Eldaban didn’t stand a chance. The banquet hall was still as a tomb.
“I grow bored with your cringing,” Juradoc sneered. He jumped off the dais as lightly as a temple cat. “Summon the fire dancers.”
Lord Dorth made a frantic gesture. In response, Tovas spun to face Leena and Elodie. “Get out there, now.”
Leena froze, struck by a horrible certainty. Juradoc had spied her tonight, and he knew what she could do. He’d seen the Flame inside her.
What Shades saw, they took. Terror threatened to turn her knees to jelly.
“Hurry.” Elodie pulled Leena’s shawl away, tossing it aside.
Mouth dry, Leena kicked off her sandals. She needed nothing special to perform. Her straight, coppery hair fell to her hips, and her simple blue dress was all the costume she owned.
“There’s no need for panic.” Elodie’s tone was firm. “This is what we do.”
She was right. The Flame was the soul of the fire fae, and it was as pure and unrelenting as the sun. It wasn’t so flimsy that one enemy, not even a Shade, could steal or sully it. They were priestesses, and the spirit burned hot and proud inside them. Leena would personally show the enemy she was unbowed.
By the time they were ready, Juradoc had retreated to a place by the wall, giving them the floor.
There was no music to accompany their entrance. Elodie went first—a spark of energy unleashed. Her white dress hung to her knees, leaving her tanned legs bare. She spun, curls flying, coming to rest only when she reached the far end of the room. Then Leena leaped forward, her motions long and liquid. She and Elodie were excellent foils, playing off each other like instruments in a duet.
Yet, when she turned to face the high table and bow in reverence, she faltered. Until now, she’d seen Morran only in profile. From this angle, she could see his face clearly. Her first impression was the same as before—an unbidden wave of attraction. His cheekbones were high, his dark brows slightly slanted. The overall impression was of strength and intelligence. A dark blue tunic stretched across his broad chest, embroidered in gold and silver thread with a firebird surmounted by a crown.
Shock momentarily numbed Leena into stillness. There was only one man who could wear that sigil—the Phoenix Prince, Lord of Tymeera. He was the mightiest of the fire fae and a warrior without equal. He had beaten the Shades back for years, protecting the south with magic and sword until his sudden disappearance.
Without him, Kelthia had lost everything—and here he was at Juradoc’s side. He’d betrayed them all. The knowledge was like a fist to her belly, robbing her of breath.
When Morran’s gaze met hers, his eyes were as dead as stone.