Page 95 of Death of a Mortal

The prince looked far from delighted. I was torn between amusement at his displeasure and jealousy over the thought of him dancing with this female.

At the sight of them moving toward the floor hand in hand, though, I found that neither feeling took over. Instead, it was red-hot anger. I needed to get this male out of my head.

Through the seething, I didn’t even notice that High Priest Malchior had taken the prince’s vacant seat beside me until he said, “You’re Naci Corren,” making me jump.

“Apologies, High Priest, I didn’t hear you sit down.”

He just stared at me. Gods, he was creepy. From this close, I could see the dark-blue veins running through his neck and face.

His eyes trailed from my face down to my chest.Gross. Who would have known that the priest was also a pervert? “I know you, Naci Corren. I know you are…unique.”

Unique was the same thing the banshee had called me.

“I’m sorry, my lord, I’m not sure I understand what you mean?”

His gaze then moved up from my chest to my scars. “Do you feel the magic?”

I guessed he meant Aemilia’s magic in my scars since that was where he was looking. “Sometimes, my lord. But not much anymore.”

He let out a small chuckle at my response. “Our queen is a marvelous queen, is she not?”

The abrupt change of subject left me confused and uncomfortable. Well, everything about this old male made me uneasy. But the way he was looking at the queen was endearing and…was it reverence or longing?

Was the high priest in love with the queen? That was gossip worthy of Ott and Moe.

While he stared at the queen, I glanced back to the dance floor, searching for the prince despite my desire not to see them dancing.

And then everything went dark as if night had turned on in the ballroom.

The music stopped, and everyone fell silent.

Someone yelled, “We are the flames of the night!”

And then absolute chaos descended as tall pillars of flame erupted in several places throughout the ballroom, turning the dark room eerily orange.

Fae ran in every direction, screaming, trampling others to get to safety as a row of guards withdrew their swords and formed a line in front of the royal table. There were already some fae on fire.

“Find them,” I heard the king shout over the noise.

Water magic started flying from multiple directions, trying to put the fires out, while more guards rushed in through the sea of fae trying to escape, various forms of magic in each of their palms.

Over the terrified screams, I could hear people yelling the same thing over and over. “We are the flames of the night.” I had no idea what it meant, but it was ominous.

Light came back to the room as the rest of the flames sputtered out, revealing a cloud high above us under the domed ceiling.

Except clouds didn’t flutter.

Everyone still left in the ballroom stopped running, pointing and looking up as a mass of white cards fell from the ceiling, each with the same picture stamped on both sides.

A single black flame.

From the dais, the queen had a hand clutched to her heart. The prince conjured a long shard of sharp ice in each hand as he ran back toward the royal table. But the king…he lost control and erupted into flames head to toe, screaming his fury, cracking the marble floor beneath him. I felt the intense heat from where I had backed up to the wall. I looked around frantically for an escape, but I had nowhere to go with the line of guards in front of us.

His eyes glowed white-hot, his hands grew into long, sharp claws, all covered in bright flames. His mouth was open too wide with his scream, which became unnatural. Otherworldly.

Gods, his vey form was a fire demon. The king was a Pyrrath Veythryn. Pyrraths were the stuff of nightmares. I hadn’t known they were real. It was more terrifying than the tales ever could have conveyed.

I was more scared in that moment than ever before in my life.