Queen of Ash

𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂

"The king is waiting for you in the throne room." a servant said before quickly scurrying out. They feared him in this glass castle, they knew who Alexander was. The Bringer of Night and Shadows walked through the big wooden doors and into the throne room. The room was giant, made to fit the whole city and the Dark Lord's power. The walls and the floor were made out of glass, enabling the king to watch the servants and city from all angles.

But the glorious throne room was the only chamber made out of glass, the rest; out of cold stone. Alexander walked briskly into the room, shoving down his fear of heights. Rhoe had always mocked him for his fear of heights, calling him a wimp. The curly-haired warrior always seemed to love the wind and high places. But the Shadowwalker never knew why.

The Dark Lord sat on his glass throne, a crown of gold and dark flames atop his head. In his hand, he held a scepter made of gold and a small red flame glowed at the top. The only remains of his mate's power. But she would soon be back in his hands.

"Ah, Bringer of Night and Shadows you are back. Did you have a good trip?" the King asked, his booming voice echoing across the glass.

"Yes, your majesty. I'm glad to be back in Illyria." Alexander replied, kneeling on the glass floor. The room was silent except for the crackling of the small flame burning at the top of the king's scepter. Legend claims that if the flame ever stopped burning it meant the Queen of Ash was dead. But people seemed to have forgotten those legends, just like they forgot the King's mate.

"Rise, Alexander. I have a new quest for you." Alexander looked up and stared into the King's ebony eyes. Nobody but Rhoe and him were allowed to meet his eyes. Special privileges for being the King's finest warriors.

"Several years ago you made an oath to me. You promised to fight for me, kill for me, serve me until the end of time."

"Yes my lord," Alexander responded, his gaze drifting around the room. There was not one sentry, not one guard. Even when the King gave him orders, there were always one or two guards. The Bringer of Night and Shadows wondered where they were.

"Then I'm sending you to Misthaven" The crown of dark flames flickered "To destroy it."

The warrior struggled to hide his shock. Why would the king want to destroy Misthaven? It is one of the only cities where Fae and humans lived together. In peace.

"Might I ask why my Lord?" he questioned, his magic thrumming.

"At least a hundred rebels are hiding there. They plan on killing me," he said, boredom lacing his words. He inspected his nails, searching for a trace of dirt. The King hated getting his hands dirty and only killed when it was essential. Or just for fun.

"But why not just kill them and leave the city alone?" he dared to ask. His magic, recoil, taking refuge deep down inside of him.

"Do not question my decision!" the king snapped, darkness surrounding the room. Different darkness from Alexander's, death itself. The warrior kneeled down again.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you. I shall go to Misthaven and destroy the town," his throat bobbed. "And kill all living beings."

Darkness retracted back into the king. His Majesty sat in his throne of glass, scepter in hand and stared at the kneeling warrior. Alexander did not dare stand up, face the wrath of the king.

"You may go now. Take whoever you need with you," he ordered, his voice rattling the glass room.

Alexander rose and left quickly, his gut aching at the wrongness of his mission.

Behind him, the scepter's flame flickered.

***

Ashlyn opened her eyes and found Rhoe staring at her from above. He slapped her cheeks once. But when he reached to do it again she shoved him, pushing him off her. "Stop that!" Rhoe turned around but Ashlyn swore he smiled. Throughout the past few days, she hadn't ever seen him laugh or smile. He was a stone-faced warrior, cold-blooded and bred for battle. No wonder he could control ice.