Page 106 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

Cahra bent awkwardly where she was bleeding to prise off her boots and socks, fumbling as the puddle of blood grew beneath her. Raising her head, she looked at Atriposte.

The Steward, the ruler of Kolyath.

Last time, she’d had a shiv in her hand, and she’d failed. Cahra wouldn’t fail again. ‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’

The Steward’s amber eyes regarded her with amusement. ‘That I do, girl blacksmith.’ He looked her up and down with disdain. ‘Jarett always said you were a bitter thorn.’

Shockingly, the man’s words didn’t touch her.

‘No, you really don’t,’ she murmured. ‘I always wondered how, why. The hair, the dirt, maybe? I guess it doesn’t matter any more. We’re here now.’ Cahra writhed, grimacing. It wasn’t hard to use the pain of her wound to colour her features, her movements. She shifted the placement of her hands, as though she sought better pressure. ‘And I will remind you of exactly who I am.’

She coughed, shivering. The man was right. She didn’t have long at all.

Cahra let one hand tumble limply beside her, on the opposite side of her breastplate, where Thierre’s people had reinforced her old smithing vest and added stitching for pockets. Or rather, for concealed weapons. She would miss Thierre, his people of Luminaux.

But she wouldn’t miss the Steward. Not this time.

Cahra thumbed Lumsden’s gold dagger from its sheath, the handle’s metalwork and raised details pressed against her clammy skin. She prayed that the old man had found peace.

That she might find it too.

Guide me, Hael…

Cahra exhaled and, in one fluid movement, raised her hand and threw, the dagger slicing through the air, a streak of gold in the dark. Time seemed to slow as the blade spun, and she watched it, her heart gradually flagging as the blade plunged into Atriposte’s throat with a sickening thud, the shock clear in his wide, disbelieving eyes.

‘My name is Cahra. I am the girl who tried to kill you in the dungeons ten years ago for being the monster you are. For sending children to war. For low-borns dying on your streets while your court laughed, drinking wine and eating cakes. For torturing and killing your own, in public, all for fun.’ She sighed, the air in her lungs feeling thinner, emptier, and watched Atriposte’s blood flee him in a scarlet torrent, his Kingdom Guards rooted to the ground as they stood uncertain, weapons half-raised. Should they fight or flee?

Their indecision spurred her on. ‘I never died. But I’ve watched plenty of others die. Because ofyou.’ She clambered to sit up, her agony and exhaustion fighting for dominance. Her vision was getting hazier and, in the quiet, she heard footsteps in the distance.

King Decimus was coming, his Royal Guards with him.

It had to be now.Now!A voice, Cahra’s own voice inside her, cried.

With her last ounce of Hael’s powers, shepushed, rushing Atriposte to grab the handle of Lumsden’s dagger, feeling a jolt of savage satisfaction as she plunged the knife in to the hilt.

Recalling Atriposte’s words to her child self.

‘The penalty is death,’ Cahra echoed back to him, her last dregs of energy spent, her eyes burning. Not with Hael’s Nether-magicks, but from a decade of uncried tears.

Then she wheezed, locking eyes with Jarett, the whites of his own bulging with fear.

‘You’re next,’ she whispered to him.For Lumsden.

The words had barely left her lips when a wave of dizziness struck so hard it sent her sprawling sideways to the unforgiving ground.

The footsteps had arrived.

‘What trickery is this?’ King Decimus said, glaring between her and Atriposte’s body. Grauwynn followed, something silver flashing in his hand before vanishing, like the smirk on the High Oracle’s wrinkled face. Precious moments passed.

Had Grauwynn seen where to arrive, after the Steward had been slain?

Decimus sighed. ‘Well, since the killing has begun.’ He unsheathed his sword, advancing on Kolyath’s Commander.

‘Sister kingdom sire…’ Jarett backed a step, eyes whipping to the Steward’s guards. ‘What are you doing? Seize him!’

‘Alliances run counter to my disposition,’ Decimus said, swinging his bastard sword. ‘Blood oaths, however…’ The Ozumbre King smiled, then signalled to his own men.

Kolyath and Ozumbre’s guards brandished their weapons at each other.

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