“Is it comfortable?” I ask the King, without taking my eyes off the throne. “Imagine the size of the ancient tree that yielded this! Gods, I love it. It’s just as beautiful as I imagined.” “There is one thing that could make it more beautiful.” The Ash King’s voice is as cool as ever, but there’s a heat simmering within it that makes me turn and look at him. He mounts the steps, sending his fire orbs up to float high above our heads. Then his warm hands close around my waist, and he’s lifting me bodily, placing me on the cushioned seat of the throne. I’m speechless, my throat dry and my heart
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