Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,10

Mother on the step above, her white gown luminous in the firelight. The priestess settled at her side, quiet and graceful as a swan.

“How is Elodie?” Leena asked, abandoning her previous question.

“Better, but it will be far too dangerous for her to dance again anytime soon.”

“I am glad she will be well. Her kin depend on her.” Leena bowed her head, her stomach unknotting. Elodie would recover. Little Riya still had her mother.

“I give you my word that Elodie’s family will be looked after until she is fully recovered.”

“Thank you.” Leena exhaled, unexpectedly lightheaded. The Mother’s promise meant the world.

“You asked about the prince,” the Mother said. “Understand that the Great Temple holds the core of the Flame. If Juradoc enjoyed a taste of elemental power during your dance, he will gorge himself once he reaches Morran’s home. It is the difference between a glass of water and the entire lake. He will take what he can, even if that lake drowns him.”

As horrible as the idea was, it made sense. “The Flame will only answer the summons of a fire fae.”

“Precisely,” the older cat said, arching her back in a long, thorough stretch before resettling herself on the step.

The Mother nodded. “Perhaps that is why Juradoc is taking Morran to the Great Temple. Only a royal fire fae can unlock the core of the Flame, but, after that, Juradoc could take his fill.”

“What would happen then?” Leena asked, barely able to voice the question. “What would happen if the Shades devoured the Flame?”

“A world without heat or light? Faery would perish in an instant.” The Mother bowed her head, the firelight gilding her even features. Her expression was unutterably sad. “The Shades have promised us destruction from the day they arrived. When they first attacked, many fae fled for the human realms. Others declared a war of resistance. There was a time we hoped Morran would be our champion.”

“And now?” Leena asked softly.

“The Kelthian people have always been loyal to the prince, but he has lost his way.”

“What can we do?”

The Mother stroked the senior cat. The feline’s purr and the crackle of flames were a hypnotic duo.

“I dreamed a prophecy,” the Mother said, her voice soft and low. “I dreamed of poison and the prince, of his fall into the Flame. You were part of the dream, sowing his ashes in a newly plowed field.”

“I don’t understand. What does the dream signify?” Leena waited, barely breathing.

The Mother rose in a rustle of robes. “Morran’s death may be necessary to save us all.”

4

“What?” Leena’s voice faltered in surprise. “How?”

“That is yet undecided, though it is clear you might play a role in his end.” With that, the Mother glided away, silent as the cats who followed in her wake.

Leena sprang to her feet, mute with shock. She was a penniless Kelthian. How could she possibly have anything to do with Morran, let alone his death? And when would that happen? Before he left for Tymeera?

She pressed her palms into her aching temples, struggling to think clearly.

It was far more likely the Mother would put Morran out of his misery. Her magic was subtle, and her reach went far—as she’d said, the temple protected the surrounding streets against all comers.

Still, Leena had experienced Juradoc’s insistent power. After watching Elodie fall, nothing felt certain.

This was all beyond Leena’s understanding. She sniffed, fighting back tears of exhaustion. Her dreams were about a home she could count on, a sound roof, and a full larder. She wanted nothing to do with the fate of princes.

Not even mad ones who saw the Flame inside her heart.

She was too exhausted to decide what was right or wrong. This night had broken her.

Leena left the womb-like warmth of the Temple, shivering as the night wind caught her bare skin. She still wore nothing more than her sleeveless silk gown—lovely for dancing but no protection from the rapidly cooling desert air. Her rooming house was close, so she pushed into a trot, limping a little as stones bruised her bare feet.

Lanterns of pierced metalwork hung in doorways and sat on windowsills, lighting the path as she threaded her way between buildings so close together that she could touch the walls on either side. The air in the narrow passage was heavy with the smell of garbage.

The door to her building was missing, torn from its hinges long ago. Leena entered, then climbed the three flights of stairs to her room. Her mind still swirled like a churning