Page 42 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

‘Protect or imprison her?’ the Seer interjected, fervour in her voice. ‘What, exactly, are your plans for Cahra once you reach Luminaux? Atriposte would have clapped her in chains, then tortured and slaughtered her with relish. Will your King Royce be so different?’

Cahra recognised the pain blazing in Wyldaern’s peridot eyes, remembering Terryl’s words about the ancient Oracles. What hardships had Wyldaern endured as a Seer, blamed by the entire realm for Hael’stromia’s downfall?

‘Yes.’ Terryl’s voice rang out like a bell from a high tower. He opened his coach door and everyone stopped as he stepped from it. ‘It is not Luminaux’s King, but we, as a people, who are different.’

Raiden, incredulous, flashed his iron eyes between the lot of them. ‘For the love of…’ He leapt from his horse and unsheathed his broadsword, his people doing the same as they formed a defensive ring around Terryl – Piet hefting his great-hammer over a pale shoulder, Siarl springing from behind them, daggers out, Queran nocking arrows from the coach’s roof, hood shrouding his red mane – all twenty-plus eyes on some invisible perimeter.

Cahra dismounted, following suit. ‘Te—’

‘Prince Thierre,’ Wyldaern stated, standing tall as every weapon in the vicinity now trained on Cahra and the Seer.

Cahra raised her hands slowly, stepping between Wyldaern, and Raiden and Terryl. ‘Who is Prince Thierre?’

‘King Royce of Luminaux’s son, and the heir apparent, their Crown Prince,’ Wyldaern replied, not taking her eyes off Terryl.

‘That is one Hael of an accusation,’ Raiden spat. But he had positioned himself between Cahra and Wyldaern, and his lord. Just as Cahra stood between Wyldaern and them.

She stared at Raiden, then at the noble she’d met weeks ago in Kolyath.

And remembered.

The woman at Terryl’s house.‘It is done, H—’

Highness?

And in his private coach.‘Did the Commander mention the name “Thierre” to Lumsden?’

Prince Thierre.

And Terryl, talking to Raiden.‘I cannot keep letting you put my life above all others… I cannot be responsible for any more d—’

Cahra’s mouth went dry. Any more deaths?

Thinking about it, she’d only heard Raiden call him ‘Terryl’ once.

In fact, no one touched him. Because they revered him, like a god.

Because he wasroyalty.

Cahra wavered, knees weak, and it was Wyldaern’s turn to lend an arm to steady her.

‘Cahra,’ Thierre said – Prince Thierre, such sadness in his blue goldstone eyes.

Not once,not once,had she asked herself what could be wrong with him, or why he seemed so perfect. Now she knew. Because he was a Prince of the realm!

Cahra closed her eyes, feeling the prick of tears she was too hurt and angry to shed. These people –hispeople, from a rival kingdom – were just using her and Wyldaern to further their agenda—

No. She shook her head. They had been kind, had rescued her and saved Wyldaern. But was it selfless? It had to be. They didn’t know Wyldaern was a Seer.

She breathed in the sting of betrayal, each fragment of it cutting her like shards of a shattered mirror. She pushed her feelings down, down, crushing them, burying them under the low-born heels of her blacksmith’s boots.

And it worked, for a moment. But she could feel it. The hurt and fury, no matter how she tried to ram it into the ground. Cahra didn’t trust anyone. She’d spent the last decade avoiding crossing paths with people: other apprentices, potential friends, all because she didn’t know who she could trust after her dungeon escape. It’d taken years for her to open up to Lumsden after everything she’d been through. And this lord – thisPrince– shows up, and weeks later, her home, her safety, all hope isgone—

Raiden cautioned, ‘We need to get off this road.’

‘Cahra,’ Thierre pleaded with her.

She couldn’t even look at him. ‘Wyldaern, please show them.’

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