Free Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords Book 3) by Kelly St. Clare Page B

uneasiness. The advisors are unsure whether they can trust me—and with good reason after my mother’s actions. I barely take in their reaction, though. I’m locked on Jovan. His gaze is narrowed on me. I tilt my head to the door once more and restrain laughter as he understands my hint at last. A Solati could have picked up from the shortness of my responses that I wished to speak alone. It took several hints for a Bruma because they were so forthright. I found I’d largely adapted to their ways, but I supposed some traits were too ingrained in me. To the error of my people, the Bruma’s boldness didn’t mean they were unintelligent. They were just straightforward, not used to hints and subtlety. Most of the time I preferred it.
    “The Tatuma and I will speak privately.” The King rises from his throne to his full height and I’m left staring at his chest. As always, it makes me feel tiny, but I don’t find his towering frame intimidating anymore. Perhaps because he doesn’t try to intimidate me this way anymore.
    “Jovan, are you sure that’s wise? It would be easier to advise you if we hear the account directly from her,” an advisor says.
    The man is ignored as Jovan turns for the door in a swirl of fur, weaponry, and leather.
     
    Jovan slams the door as soon as I’ve moved through behind him.
    Then, in three long strides he’s in front of me, hands at my veil. He rips it off. Did I really expect any less? The king of Glacium peers down at me. And I stand tall, refusing to be self-conscious of the way I appear. I cringe as another thought strikes me—or the way I smell.
    “When was the last time you slept?” he growls. I wince and snatch the veil from him.
    “Do you want to know what happened or not?” I attempt to put the veil back on, but he grips my hand and peels my fingers off the material, one by one. I let out an exasperated noise as he tucks the retrieved veil into the pocket of his tunic.
    “Of course I do. But first let me tell you I’m glad you’re home,” he says with a grin.
    “I am glad to be back at the castle ,” I say. His eyes glint in an unusual way.
    “You’ve been at the front?” I ask. He nods, while his deft hands make quick work of the straps holding his chest armor in place. His blue eyes don’t leave mine during the process. The heat in my cheeks rises and I let my gaze slide away as he stretches, pulling the plate over his head.
    I squeeze my eyes shut. “There are a few things I need to tell you.” I open them and gesture to a seat.
    He doesn’t take the hint, silently staring down at me, massive arms folded over the planes of his chest. I shake my head and take a deep breath, launching into a comprehensive recount of my time in the Ire.
     
    King Jovan is statue-still, mouth slightly open when I finish. He started pacing during the middle of my account and has only just stopped.
    “It’s a lot to take in …” My words seem to jolt him out of his stupor. I didn’t realize how much information I’d just unloaded on him. I’ve had months to process the discovery of the Ire and the events that have happened since.
    “I’d figured the flying people were on the Great Stairway. But you say they’re all mixed? You showed your face to the leader to gain their help, almost got caught while destroying the pathway, and were sighted by the soon-to-be-dead uncle who used to beat you.” He summarizes. I nod slowly. I can’t tell if he is annoyed or angry.
    “How the fuck do you get yourself into this stuff?” He’s angry.
    “I … don’t know.” The truth of my words hits me and I let out a giggle. The storm on Jovan’s face breaks briefly before coming back full-force. I’m surprised he didn’t lose his temper when I’d told him about Cassius, but somehow he reined himself in.
    “Why did you show the leader your face?” he asks, jaw ticking.
    I shrug. “It was the only way to prevent war.”
    His eyes are narrowed. Oddly, I’m much more comfortable