Page 98 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

‘It will be okay,’ she said again, her tone soothing. The haze-filled air was pricking her lungs, but she didn’t let him go. She could feel the agitation amassing in her body, the buildup of red-hot energy that flashed between her nerves and limbs, sensing for any and all threats, because she knew the reality she faced. The realm’s three kingdoms’ rulers were out there. Steward Atriposte was out there. And Hael was right, this plan of hers had put her in danger, all to save Thierre. But when she looked into Hael’s eyes, she felt like she understood him. His last Scion had died and the capital had fallen. Hael feared for her life.

After what she’d seen the last time they performed the abreption, she knew he wouldn’t handle losing another Scion well. And if she lost him? Cahra refused to consider it.

But standing around wouldn’t get them anywhere. Wrenching her eyes from his face, Cahra cleared her throat, praying the iciness of her feet would draw the heat from her cheeks. It was so damn cold in here!

‘Hael, where are my boots?’ she complained, shivering.

He laughed, the sound so joyous that for an instant, she could forget about everything brewing outside the city’s black gate.

‘What is it?’

Lips still twitching with mirth, Hael lifted his arms. ‘May I?’

Confused, she nodded. He swept her from her feet to sit her lightly on the edge of the black stone altar. Then touched the sole of her right foot, tilting it towards her.

‘See,’ Hael whispered, the flames of his eyes soaring.

When the mark walks the path to enter the Nether in life…

Cahra gasped as she peered at what looked to be a tattooed Sigil of the Seers, the dark symbol’s eye within a downward-pointing triangle within a circle staring back at her from the ball of her foot. Below it, more new symbols appeared inked upon her skin.

‘I don’t know these,’ she frowned, pointing.

‘The sacred mark. The third omen is upon us.’ Hael inspected the sole of her foot, tracing the outline. ‘The first crest is that of the Seers, as you know. The second is your own: the House of the Scion, sovereign to this realm, scribed in the old tongue.’

‘I have my own crest?’ Cahra’s voice barely rose above a whisper as she gazed at the Sigil of the Seers and the symbols that formed her Imperial insignia. The first was a rectangle, open at the bottom like it housed a little doorway; the second, a flaming red phoenix atop a blackened crown. Together, the three characters made a pyramid in the centre of her sole.

‘Yes, and you shall need it to access this room, my shrine.’ Hael’s face grew serious. ‘This is the final time we will meet under these circumstances, between the veil and void. When you next see me, it will be once you unseal these doors. In order to do so,you require three things: the Key, your life – and a scarcity of boots.’ Hael attempted an affable smile, but she saw the worry clouding his features. She gave his fingers a playful squeeze.

‘I need to be barefoot? Thelaema didn’t tell me that. How unlike her,’ Cahra joked, trying to lighten the mood. Hael just nodded absently.

She quietened, wanting to stay but knowing she had to go. Who knew how long she had been gone already? But she needed to ask Hael one final question.

‘When you’re free, will you carry out my instructions, no matter what?’

She took a deep breath.No matter if I die?

In the murkiness of his tomb, Hael vowed, ‘I will.’ His words were rough, raw, with the same harshness she’d heard in her own voice in Thelaema’s mountain caves. The power, the Nether-magick, of the realm’s weapon. Silver lightning forked above their heads.

Cahra could almost feel his power coursing through her. She pulled her gaze from the slivers of electricity splaying above them.

‘It is time,’ Hael told her, Cahra nodding and raising her palms to meet his, as before, ignoring the stinging fear of pain she knew would rack her body. His Nether-powers would be her only defence now.

And with that, their abreption began.

A minute passed between Cahra’s vision with Hael and her return to the earthly plane. In that time, her horse had moved to the midpoint in between Luminaux’s army and that of Kolyath and Ozumbre, then halted, waiting.

When Cahra finally cracked her eyes open, her body thrumming with Nether-power as sandy winds tossed her hair, she didn’t need to search. She found the Prince instantly.

Thierre.

Steward Atriposte signalled to someone and Thierre was shoved forward, hands bound before him, still bleeding as he staggered towards his family. Towards Cahra.

He’s alive.

Cahra descended from the palomino mare.

Eyes narrowed, Hael’s black rage rising, Cahra’s gaze locked onto Thierre as she scanned, counting body parts and isolating where he was bloody, limping, and what his injuries might be. Overall, his wounds seemed to be non-fatal and she sighed with relief. Thierre was closing the distance between them, not without effort, but still.

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