he got lost inside the burning walls, he might never make it out.
The maze-like palace corridors finally took on the more familiar colors of the royal quarters. “Vasili, you slithering bastard, where are you?” He wouldn’t be dead. Not yet. He’d survived eight years as a prisoner to the elves. He’d survive this until Niko could get to him. He had to.
Niko’s heart pounded, hot and heavy behind his ribs.
Smoke laced his nose and throat. He coughed into the crook of his arm, trying to filter the smoky air through his sleeve. His eyes burned, making the bright royal colors swim.
Gods, this was insanity. Returning, for the prince, just like the prick had said Niko would. I will not ask or order you, Nikolas Yazdan, but you will return. Niko almost laughed at the memory. How was it Vasili always got what he fucking wanted?
“Niko!”
He whirled at the sound of his name, and, squinting through the broiling smoke, saw the figure looming ahead, hand reaching. Niko lunged, laced the slim fingers with his, and threw his shoulder against a nearby door, pulling the woman inside. He slammed the door on the smoke and stepped back, watching it seep beneath the door and creep toward them.
“Niko?” Lady Maria coughed hard and slumped against the wall. “Walla, save us. This infernal fire has taken everything!” Her voice was wrecked, her layered silk gown stained by soot, but she didn’t appear hurt.
“Maria,” he caught her shoulder, helping to hold her up and offering some support, “where’s Vasili?”
“Darling Niko,” she smiled fondly, red eyes streaming tears. “You came.” She reached for his face.
He caught her hand. “Where is he?”
“The library.” New tears glistened in her eyes.
He released her and glanced at the door. This room was typically royal in its flamboyant decoration. He vaguely recalled the palace layout. The library was in the same wing, but deeper within the palace, closer to the firestorm’s eye.
“He went for the books,” she said.
“No book can be worth his life.” Niko started for the door.
“Wait!” Maria took up her shawl and tore a great strip from the fabric, then dumped it in the nearby washbasin. She brought it to him, wrung out the excess water, and handed it over. “Cover your mouth and nose. You’ll need it.” Her warm hand was suddenly on his cheek, her gaze intense. “Take him away from this cursed place. Take him and go. Never come back.”
He nodded, easing her fears. “There are tunnels. Take the northern corridor—”
She smiled a strange, defeated smile, cutting him off. “I cannot leave Amir.”
“This place is cursed, and that prick isn’t worth saving. Leave while you can.”
She smiled sadly. “The poison has him. Nobody else can slow its course. Go free our bird, Niko. He needs you.”
There was too much to say, too many questions, but the fire raged with every second, and Vasili might already have succumbed.
Maria captured his hand and squeezed fiercely. “Take him or Amir will. You must save him.” She shoved Niko back a step. “Go!”
He left her inside the room, wondering if he’d just abandoned her to the flames, but he couldn’t save them both. With the cloth smothered against his nose and mouth, he plowed deeper into the choking smoke, recognizing the twists and turns of the wretched palace layout.
Sweat ran down his back and dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision. The walls he brushed against simmered hot beneath his hands. No ordinary fire could consume a stone palace in such a way. The timber windows and doors and trusses, yes, but this fire had a life of its own. Did Amir start it? Was it part of the flame?
He’d think on it later, if they survived.
The library door lay open ahead. Fire danced up the doorframe and boiled from inside.
“Vasili?” Smoke poured down Niko’s throat. He smothered his mouth and nose with the cloth again, but a fit of wracking coughs doubled him over.
It was too late to turn back. He had to go in there, had to find him. Nobody else would save the “tainted” prince. Damn that bastard for being right, but Niko prayed to Walla that Vasili still breathed.
He calmed his head and heart and plunged through the flaming doorway.
Chapter 2
The world burned.
Heat made his skin crawl. Burned his eyes. Singed his face.
How anything could survive among an ocean of furious flame was a miracle, but someone did. The tall, cloaked figure stumbled from amid the inferno. Impossibly, the flames appeared to bend around him,