Page 60 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

Cahra hesitated. But before he could lower his palm, and before she could stop herself, she stepped into his touch, the surprising gentleness of his fingers cupping her cheekbone.

What am I doing?

Astonishment flooded his features, then he exhaled, cradling her face in both hands.

‘You, Cahra,’ he breathed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers. ‘You are the one for whom my heart yearns.’

When he opened his star-flecked eyes, Thierre leaned in, pressed his lips to Cahra’s, and kissed her.

And she ran.

Cahra cringed, tossing and turning in the palace guest room bed, as she had for hours.

She’d fled all the way back to the safety of that room, locking the door behind her.

Thierre –PrinceThierre– kissed her, and she’d run. But not before basking in the lazy lust of his lips on hers. A dreamy, dizzying kiss. The best she’d had.

Yes, she’d been furious with him. Shocked, hurt, saddened and everything in between. All the reasons she was leaving with Wyldaern.

But she’d also wanted to kiss Thierre too. And she’d let it happen, let him talk to her, let him touch her face…

Maybe his royal status had finally spooked her. Or the fact that whatever was between them, it could never go anywhere. Not while he was engaged, and even if he wasn’t. But in that moment, when Thierre had kissed her, she’d forgotten who and what he was.

So why had she fled?

Burrowing out of the covers to squint at the clock, Cahra groaned. It was half-past five in the morning. She’d hardly slept. Rubbing her face, she sat up, looking around the lavish room. Its shadows were receding as dawn broke, the furniture lit with glorious gold. Like the grand wardrobe, dressing table and console weren’t extravagant enough, she grumbled.

Cahra sighed. There was no point idling if she couldn’t sleep. And having learned from the sheer embarrassment of Hael seeing her in her underthings, this time she’d left her clothes on before going to bed. She flushed at the idea of his red-hot flames roving over her bare skin.Seers, will he ever forget?

Crossing the room, Cahra shoved her feet into a pair of shoes and then stopped. Where did she think she was going? It was barely sunrise. She unlocked the door and strained to listen, one ear angled down the hall. Nothing. Everyone was asleep. She stood by the door, wondering whether she should stay or go. Glancing at the tapestries and vases, the outrageous chandelier that hung, as big as she was, before the mirrored walls and boundless bed, she shook herself into action and shut the door behind her.

Fumbling her way through the palace on hushed feet, Cahra somehow managed to locate the entrance, nodding to the guards as she slipped through the gilt doors and out into the glittering royal courtyard. It was a cool dawn and she wished she’d grabbed her jacket. But the scent of Luminaux’s jasmine sat heavy in the humid air and the sky was brightening to an optimistic shade of blue. She’d warm as she walked.

Cahra didn’t know where she was going, but as she watched Luminaux’s banners rippling overhead, she realised she had some quiet time to think now.

Hael.His name was there, on her tongue, before she’d taken her next breath. And the thought of him… Not just the mad thing she’d done by letting him steal away her sadness, or even the mad things he’d told her of the Seers, but the sheer shock of watching him go from a nightmare made flesh to – to what he truly was, an enthralling, powerfully built warrior… And that grin! As if he’d known how her body heated when he’d kissed her hand—

Cahra sucked in a breath. The sister kingdoms didn’t worship gods. But if they did? She had the feeling they would’ve looked a lot like Hael.

And this time, she remembered their conversation clearly. Was it the abreption? Had Hael’s new-found vigour helped her memory? She didn’t know, but he’d given her answers. Of course, all they’d done was raise more questions.

She ducked beneath a tree dripping with clusters of magenta flowers, the abundant blooms like feathery fingers reaching for her as she passed.

She’d been surprised to learn the Seers were Hael’stromian, like him. When Cahra asked Hael what had happened to them, his face had darkened, saying the scrying order had fled the city when its defences activated, locking him inside. The Seers had promised to free him, only the High Oracles had received a vision as Hael’stromia fell and shared it. The last they would see until the new era.

Hael had seen the vision, and its truths: the age of the Oracles would end and Hael’stromia would fall, until the rise of a new leader, a new Emperor, who would usher the kingdoms into the future. One of peace.

She’d laughed at Hael’s words. None of the rulers seemed up to the task, not even Thierre’s father, King Royce. She didn’t know of Ozumbre’s King, but she’d heard things. Things that made the Steward seem merciful.

Cahra blew out a breath, frustrated at Hael for not answering all of her questions, apparently best left for Wyldaern’s Oracle. She didn’t know what to expect from the visit, or the Oracle herself. Another disciple of Hael’stromia’s Seers, like Wyldaern, she supposed. Even Hael had been cagey about it, saying Cahra would see him again soon, in another vision.

One where she was actually dressed, she thought with a blush.

Cahra glanced up, finding she’d made it down the hill into the city’s flat streets, and the pearl-white of tall, tidy shops, and ornate chairs and tables under blue striped awnings. Then it came to her, subtly at first, a hint of a mouthwatering scent on the gentle breeze.Bread!Bread, sweet and sour and heady with yeast, the aroma so strong she could almost taste the crunch of its outer crust, the fluffy warmth of dough inside. Cahra searched for the source of the irresistible smell, surely the kingdom’s bread or pastry house. But then a sound snatched her attention away.

A hammer on metal.

She was in Luminaux’s Artisanal Emporium! All thoughts of food emptied from her head as she bolted for the blacksmith’s, following the telltale clangs. Cahra rounded a corner and there it was: big and dark and lit by fire, the sun’s rays yet to bless the shop with daylight. She could see not one but two forges in the back, two anvils in the middle and a counter just like the smithy in Kolyath, only it extended half-way across the shop, the rest an open door. She gazed at the miraculous find, squinting to see what the city’s master blacksmith was making as pure happiness flooded her chest.

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