The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 46: The Fire Lord’s Table

Zuko returned to his chambers just as the last sliver of sun vanished behind the jagged peaks of the Caldera. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing away the murmurs of servants and the distant clatter of armor.

Katara sat by the balcony, her back rigid, her fingers tracing the rim of an untouched teacup. She didn’t turn when he entered.

”We’re dining with my father in ten minutes,” Zuko said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Her head snapped up. ”What?”

”The Fire Lord,” he repeated, slower, as if she were dull. ”Along with half the noble council and three generals. Consider it your first real test.”

Katara stood abruptly, the teacup rattling against its saucer. ”You’re joking.”

”Do I look like I’m joking?” He crossed the room in three strides, stopping just inches from her. The scent of smoke clung to him, thick and acrid. ”Remember your training. Every word, every glance, they’ll be watching. Especially Azula.”

”I know how to behave,” Katara hissed.

”Do you?” Zuko’s gaze darkened. ”Because last time you nearly slapped my sister for calling you a whore. If I hadn’t caught your arm...”

”I remember,” she interrupted, her voice tight.

”Good. Then you’ll also remember that in there, you’re nothing. A servant. A pet. You don’t speak unless spoken to. You don’t react, no matter what they say.” His fingers twitched at his side, as if itching to grab her, to shake the lesson into her. ”This isn’t a negotiation.”

Katara’s jaw clenched, but she held his stare. ”And what if they ask me something directly? What if your father decides to...”

”Answer in three words or less. Bow. And look at me before you speak.” His tone left no room for argument. ”This isn’t the South Pole, Katara. One misstep, and I won’t be able to protect you.”

The unspoken threat hung between them, ’your brother, the Avatar, their lives are the cost.’

She looked away first.

”Fine.”

Silence. Then...

”What do you want me to wear?” she muttered.

Zuko’s eyes flicked over her, assessing. He thought of the Fire Nation gowns he’d seen in another life, crimson silk, high collars, the kind that clung just enough to remind everyone of their place.

”A dress. Red. Nice and fitting for someone hanging around with the future Fire Lord.” He turned toward the door. ”A tailor will be here tomorrow to measure you.”

Katara’s brows furrowed. ”Tomorrow? What about tonight?”

”Tonight, you’ll wear what the servants wear. And you’ll stand behind my chair like you belong there.” He paused, his hand on the doorframe. ”This is the start of it, Katara. The real game. And Azula? She’s already ten moves ahead or atleast that is what she thinks. I have to make her keep believing it.”

Not for the first time since they’d arrived, something like unease flickered in Katara’s eyes.

Zuko didn’t wait for a response. He stepped into the hall, the shadows swallowing him whole.

---

The grand ballroom of the Fire Nation palace was a spectacle of gilded decadence. Crimson banners embroidered with the royal insignia draped from the vaulted ceilings, their edges licked by the glow of a hundred floating lanterns. The long obsidian table at the center gleamed under the weight of silver platters—roasted komodo chicken glazed in fire-pepper sauce, steaming bowls of lotus root soup, towers of delicate dumplings filled with minced eel-shark.

At the head of the table, Fire Lord Ozai sat like a statue of living flame, his crimson robes shimmering with threads of molten metal. To his right, Azula lounged in her chair, her smirk sharp enough to draw blood. To his left, Iroh sipped his tea with deliberate calm, though his knuckles were white around the cup.

And then there were the guests.

Lord Shinu, Head of the Shinu Clan, a hawk-nosed man with a voice like grinding stone. His family controlled the western mines, and his loyalty to Ozai was as unyielding as the iron they extracted.

Lady Hina, Matriarch of the Hina Dynasty, her face powdered pale, her lips stained black. She ruled the trade routes with a fist of silk and poison.

General Bujing, A grizzled war hawk, his armor scarred from a hundred battles. He had once overseen the Earth Kingdom campaigns… including the 41st Division.

General Mak. A quiet, calculating man who commanded the capital’s defenses. His silence was more dangerous than any boast.

And then there was Zuko, seated at the center of it all, his posture relaxed but his eyes burning with quiet intensity. Behind his chair, Katara stood rigid, her hands clasped, her borrowed servant’s robes itching against her skin.

Ozai raised his goblet, the wine inside dark as old blood. ”To my son’s return,” he intoned, his voice slithering through the room. ”May his… lessons in exile serve the Fire Nation well.”

Glasses clinked. Azula’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Lord Shinu was the first to strike. ”Tell us, Prince Zuko,” he said, stroking his beard, ”what wisdom did you gather in your travels? Beyond, of course, collecting… souvenirs?” His gaze flicked to Katara.

Zuko took a slow sip of wine. ”Wisdom? I learned that the world is full of surprises, Lord Shinu. For example, did you know sailing the season for months on end, men start to grow irritated by the slightest of things? I learnt that the primary reason for this is because men have needs that other men cannot take care of... and so we need our collection of souvenirs as you so elegantly put it.”

A beat of silence. General Bujing’s fork froze mid-air.

”Preposterous,” General Mak scoffed. ” There are other important things.“

”Don’t be so sure,” Zuko cut in, ”I am not aware of the last time you spent at sea but I doubt some one of your age would even care but for young and hot blooded men such as me, those important things don’t seem so important once you start to feel it.”

Lady Hina’s fan fluttered. ”And what of your… companion, Prince Zuko? Surely she isn’t here for her political insights as you just said.”

Katara’s nails dug into her palms.

Zuko didn’t even glance back. ”Katara? Yes, she’s here for some of those needs.” He smirked, twisting the knife. ”Though I suppose she could teach us a thing or two about resilience, Lady Hina. The Water Tribe winters are… unforgiving. I can atest to it myself.”

The Implied insult hung in the air, ’unlike your spoiled court.’

Azula leaned forward, her voice sweet as venom. ”Oh, don’t be modest, Zuzu. Tell them how you really caught her. Was it before or after you burned her village?”

Katara’s breath hitched.

Zuko’s fingers tightened around his chopsticks. ”Careful, Azula. You’re starting to sound jealous.”

Ozai’s laughter cut through the tension like a whip. ”Enough. My son has earned his pleasures. Though, Zuko…” His golden eyes locked onto Katara. ”One wonders why you bother with a peasant when the Fire Nation has so much… finer stock to offer.”

Zuko shrugged. ”Call it a taste for the exotic.”

Iroh’s teacup clattered against its saucer. ”Perhaps we should discuss the upcoming comet festival, Brother. The people are eager for celebration.”

Ozai’s smile was a blade. ”Yes. A celebration… and an end to this war.”

The table stilled. Even Azula straightened.

Zuko met his father’s gaze. ”I look forward to it.”

Behind him, Katara stared at the floor, her heart pounding.

The game was far from over.

[A/N: Can’t wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on .com/saiyanprincenovels.]