Page 29 of Fated Flames: Volume Two
Alarming heat spreads through me as I continue watching Soren. I’ve never seen such an elegant fighter. While all Seltzen’s maneuvers are stiff and heavy, the king moves like a ribbon in the wind, quick and sinuous.
Since when do I find violence attractive? Or fully-fledged dragons?
As if I called his name, the king’s eyes suddenly find mine, and my gaze shies away.
You’re in the middle of a fight, I can’t help thinking.Pay attention.
The crowd’s clamor rises to a frenzy, compelling me to look again. Soren’s posture has turned predatory, his focus lethal. The venomous tail lashes out once more, and with savage accuracy, the dragon seizes the length just before the barbed end, and with a sickening crunch, crushes it between his teeth.
Seltzen releases a wail so piteous that I flinch. Those watching must not feel the same, because they unleash a deafening cry of triumph as the wyvern tries pulling free and Soren gives him a violent twist, throwing his opponent on his side. Before Seltzen can even attempt a recovery, the king, flames licking at his exposed teeth, is standing over him.
And just like that, the bout is over.
The Pit erupts in celebration.
“Do you think there will be another challenger today?” I hear through the din.
“I hope so,” comes the shouted reply.
For the first time, it occurs to me that no one came because they feared a dethroning; they came to watch their king win, as they knew he would.
I was the only one who was afraid.
Seltzen appears shocked, confused even, but when Soren’s flame intensifies, the wyvern turns his face aside, his eyes snapping shut.
“Is that an act of surrender?” I ask Yarl.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
There’s no triumphal blaze from the king this time. The second Seltzen indicates his surrender, Soren is off him and shrinking down. I occupy myself with straightening the folds of my gown, only peeking up once I think he might be clothed.
He’s coming this way.
“I would be grateful if you would wait for me here,” I tell my guards as I stand and start down the rim.
Soren, shoving his arms into the sleeves of his robe, charges my way. He’s still angry with me for speaking out; he must be. I hold my head high, determined not to let my rattled nerves show.
In front of me now, he stops and fixes me with pupils still slitted from the fight.
“Why are you angry at me?” he demands.
I gape at him in astonishment. “Pardon?”
“I have done as you asked,” he says, scowling. “I didn’t make a single protest to you coming here even though you would distract me beyond all reason.”
My mouth positively falls open now. Did heexpectme to cause a disturbance? “I apologize. My guards and I had a misunderstanding.”
“Do they need disciplining?”
“What? No.”
“Then why are you telling me this?”
“You just said I distracted you!”
“Of course. Your very existence distracts me.”
A blush rushes over my face, both at his words and the sudden hunger in his eyes. I glance down and blush all the deeper. He’s closed his robe as carelessly as he did the first time he transformed.
