Page 59 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

Stop. Endure.

Cahra hurried from the sunroom, the night air nipping at her skin as she searched for her clothes, which were nowhere to be seen. Frowning, she yanked open a wardrobe and found replacements in the form of a linen shirt and trousers, not giving the extravagant dresses a glance as she pushed past them to a shelf with a pair of plain, leather slip-on shoes. She dressed quickly and moved for the door.

A note sat atop a silver dome, as she neared the parlour table.

You were still sleeping, so I brought you something to eat. Please, ensure that you do. We shall need the energy in the morrow.

Wyldaern

It was a kindness, and tears pricked at Cahra’s eyes. She scrubbed them from her face. No, she wouldn’t cry again. Not until she was free of this kingdom and its Prince. She turned for the door, leaving the food untouched.

Cahra needed air, space, to escape the hollow excess of the guest room and go… where? She was out in the hallway now, white columns seemingly endless in either direction. Frustrated, she turned, following the lanterns. She knew the view she’d seen from her room was along here somewhere. If she could just find an empty room with a balcony to sit on. And not fling herself from it, she thought drily.

Charging blindly down the hall, Cahra stopped short, whirling to stare at a dark arch to her left, a short tunnel that opened into—

‘The night sky,’ she breathed.

Cahra didn’t know why she felt such relief. All she knew was she’d awoken and felt like she was suffocating; those too-soft sheets, that too-big bed, the absurdly large space for just one guest. The impulse to upend every single thing in Thierre’s audacious guest room. Instead, she’d run for the fresh night air.

She set foot on the airy disc-shaped podium that jutted boldly from the palace’s side like an outstretched palm. The gleaming gold and glass of the building was a stellar object in the sky, a beacon far above the winding city below. When she looked up again, she noticed a faint blot against the darkness, blacker than the pitch of midnight and, squinting, realised it was the peak of Hael’stromia’s pyramid. The sight of the structure in real life sent a thrum of excitement through her as she remembered the feel of Hael’s warm breath on her earlobe and his wraithlike voice that gave her goosebumps.

Cahra took a deep, loosening breath and exhaled slowly, gently, watching the stars go on and on, past Hael’stromia and far beyond the limits of her sight. She wondered if Hael could see past the stars to other celestial objects. If he was asleep somewhere in that pyramid. Or if he was awake right now, like her.

Her gaze snagged on a silhouette in the corner, eyes twinkling as they turned from a spyglass angled to the skies above.

She whirled to leave.

‘Cahra,please.’ She gritted her teeth at the pain in Thierre’s voice, the only thing that made her hesitate. He rushed to reach her.

She cursed her feelings and, before she could stop herself, lashed out against her hurt. ‘What more could you possibly have to say to me? Better yet, whatshouldyou have told me? Let me start you off. “Hi, my name’s Terryl, I mean Thierre, well actually, it’s Prince Thierre of your enemy kingdom, Luminaux, and by the way, I’m to bemarried—”’

Thierre opened his mouth. Then shut it.

‘Exactly,’ she mumbled, turning to go.

‘Cahra,’ Thierre repeated, and it took everything in her not to run, down the hall and to the guest room, or Wyldaern’s room next door, anywhere she could pretend he didn’t exist. ‘Do you truly see me as your enemy?’

She raised her eyes to him. To his dark hair, swept to one side as he raked his fingers through it, chewing on his lower lip. Those lips she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss. To the refined angles of his face. And to his blue goldstone eyes, multi-faceted and sparkling like the midnight stars around them.

His eyes, which were gazing at her with such sorrow.

‘No, Terryl, Thierre – whoever you are. You don’t get to say my name and act like you have the right to ask me anything at all.’ She took a breath and the sweep of her own pain came out in one agonising sentence. ‘Youliedto me! About who you really were, and you knew. That I didn’t trust anyone, ever. But you deceived me anyway.’

It wasn’t just that he’d lied. He’d made her feel seen, like she was more than a low-born smith. Like she was someone who mattered. Now, standing before him, all she felt was just how wrong she’d been.

Thierre’s lips twisted with guilt. ‘Please, forgive me,’ he whispered. ‘I am sorry, for not being who, or what, you wished me to be. But after everything, do you not understand? Prince Thierre, the first in line to the throne of Luminaux, cannot exist outside this kingdom. There can only be Terryl, or else I am a liability to my father, my mother, my sister – to my kingdom, our forces and everything that Luminaux is and stands for and shall ever be, the moment I leave the safety of these walls. To anyone and anything that I have cared for, and to those who care for me. And it is not for nothing. I risk everything for the safety of my people, by gathering intelligence and knowing our enemies’ plans, their strengths and weaknesses, under their noses. Terryl does more for Luminaux than Thierre ever could.To keep the people I care for safe.’

‘And who are they?’ Then she blurted out, ‘How could you not tell me you were engaged?’

Thierre erupted. ‘Because I did not know! Not until this last week, that my parents had plotted thisfarceof an arrangement, and with someone that I would sooner tear my eyes from my own head than wed—’ He stopped.

So did Cahra’s heart.He doesn’t want to marry her!

‘And me?’ Cahra whispered, the events of the past week, of his hand touching hers, burning in the back of her mind. ‘What am I to you?’

Thierre – Prince Thierre – stared with such heat that Cahra feared for her own restraint.

‘You,’ he began, moving for her, ‘are who I wish to theOraclesthat I never had to lie to, never pained, never caused for you to look upon me with such regret.’ He took another step. ‘You, Cahra…’ They were barely inches away from one another now, and for the life of her, she could not will her feet to move. Thierre lifted his hand, stopping a finger’s breadth from her face, his own uncertain.

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