Usurper of flames

Chapter 3: Petals and Thorns

Chapter 3: Petals and Thorns

"Come walk with me around the gardens, Arlo," she says, her tone casual yet commanding.

I hesitate, an instinctive urge to resist rising within me. "I think I'll pass," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. The thought of strolling alongside her, the queen who usurped my birthright, ignites a fierce conflict in my chest.

Her expression shifts slightly, surprise flickering in her eyes before it hardens into determination. "It's not a request," she replies, her voice smooth, though there's an edge to it. "You may want to resist, but it would be in your best interest to join me."

I feel the anger coil tightly in my gut, the realisation that she won't take no for an answer only fueling my defiance. "You think I'll play along with your charade?" I shoot back, holding her gaze.

"Whether you want to or not, you're part of this now," she insists, her tone unyielding.

With a reluctant sigh, I rise from my chair, my feet heavy as I follow her toward the door, the weight of our circumstances hanging thick in the air. As we step outside into the winter air, a chill wraps around us like an unwelcome shroud. The garden is a stark contrast to the vibrant blooms I'd expected, with frost clinging to the bare branches and the ground dusted in white. I can't help but feel a sense of foreboding in the stark, cold beauty of it all.

Rani walks ahead, her posture confident and disciplined, yet I can't help but notice how small I feel in comparison. Despite her my tall frame, the way she carries herself feels almost commanding, her defined muscles to her strength, in comparison to me a scrawny a man. It's honestly no surprise  how someone like her could topple an empire.

The thought gnaws at me as we walk, the crunch of frost underfoot echoing our silence. She exudes authority, yet there's something almost surreal about the power she wields. I find it hard to reconcile the woman beside me, commanding and self-assured, with the fact that she once stood against my family, defeating them with ruthless precision.

What kind of ambition drives a person to rise from the ashes of their homeland and seize a throne, all while maintaining an air of elegance? I glance sideways at her, watching as she gazes out at the winter landscape, her dark hair whipping slightly in the cold wind. There's a fire in her eyes, a hunger for control that is both terrifying and compelling.

Even now, with the chill nipping at us, she seems unbothered, as if the cold were merely an afterthought. I can't shake the sense that I'm walking beside a storm, one that has already laid waste to everything I once held dear.

"You know, in my homeland, there'd still be beautiful plants about," Rani says, breaking the silence as she surveys the desolate landscape. Her voice carries a hint of nostalgia, almost surprising against the backdrop of our frosty surroundings. "This country is so desolate in the winter months."

I glance at her, caught off guard by her remark. The winter garden is indeed stark, the skeletal branches stripped bare, and the frost-covered ground looks as if it has been drained of life. "Is that so?" I reply, unable to mask the scepticism in my tone. "Seems fitting for a place ruled by the likes of you."

She shoots me an amused look, the corner of her lips curling into a sly smile. "You think I enjoy the desolation? Hardly. But even the harshest winters yield beauty in time."

Her confidence makes my stomach churn. "Perhaps," I mutter, "but beauty doesn't exactly inspire warmth. Maybe that's why you're drawn to fire."

She laughs lightly, but there's an edge to it. "Or perhaps it's the fire that's needed to transform the cold. It's how empires are built and maintained, after all."