Embrace the Fire (35 page)

“Lincoln.”

Sebastian motioned up the stairs. “I go now to dispatch her uncle as well—Nicholas Erlane. Will you help?”

Lincoln stared at him, and hatred blazed from his eyes. He flipped his knife across his fingers and slid it back into his boot, striding out the door.

A moment later, four of Sebastian's men crashed through the doorway, and Sebastian led them up the tower, taking the steps three at a time until they reached the top.

His soldiers made swift work of the two guards who blocked the entranceway to Erlane's inner sanctum. Sebastian gripped the door handles and shoved the heavy portals open.

His mouth dropped in shock as he took in the massive bed in the center of the circular room, the tables and chairs and furs. This had once been Sebastian's father's Council room. Wars were fought and won on parchment in this room long before they were carried outside the castle.

And Nicholas Erlane had made his bed in it.

Fury welled inside him so strongly, he hefted the nearest solid oak chair and hurled it against the wall. It crashed against the stone work and then skittered along the wall, coming to rest near the corner of the table.

A squeak pulled his attention back to the bed. Behind the headboard, cowering against the carved wood, hiding like the sniveling fool he was, Nicholas Erlane crouched, his terrified indigo eyes huge and round as he stared at the chair.

“Nicholas Erlane,” Sebastian spat. He advanced toward the man, who scrambled backward. Erlane snagged one of the candelabras and held it high as he stood against the wall, cornered. Sebastian's men blocked the doorway, and there was no escape.

“P—please, Sebastian. For the sake of my friendship with the Andrachen throne, for the sake of the Stars above, f—for the sake of your brother, Liam. I—I was his Guardian—”

“You were Liam's Pixie Guardian?” Sebastian's growl lashed across Erlane's face.

The Pixie flinched. “Aye, and I—I wasn't there to protect him when he died.” Guilt shuttered Erlane's terrified gaze. He cast aside the candelabra and clasped his hands. “Please—please allow me to live.”

“So you can worm your way back into my inner circle again?” Sebastian asked, kicking aside a fallen stand. “So you can use me, use my power to fill your flagging cup of it?” His sword sent a wool robe strewn on the floor to the side, and he continued his steady walk forward.

Nicholas Erlane shook. “We—we can—I can help you use the Amulet, m—make use of its powers, Sebastian. I—I am Pixie and my powerful relations among the Ancients will—”

“The
Amulet
,” growled Sebastian as he bypassed the last obstacle that kept him from the Pixie King, “has already given me its gifts.”

“You—you have the Touches?” Nicholas Erlane's eyes widened beyond all proportion.

Sebastian gripped the man's shoulder as Erlane let out a terrified squeal.

“I'll have my throne back, you whoreson.”

He plunged the weapon through Erlane's belly and into the wall behind the man. Ice erupted from his hands, lining the sword, flying along Nicholas Erlane's robes, creasing and cracking the Pixie's fair skin, glazing over his eyes, turning his long, white hair into a brittle mass, spreading across the floor and overcoming the tables and furs, even the bed.

Sebastian's men backed out the door, their eyes wide, and Sebastian released his sword with a huge mental effort.

Slowly, he pulled the ice back into his hand, watching the gradual thaw of the room.

He felt limp and tired and vaguely dissatisfied with how easy it had been to corner Erlane and slide his sword into the Pixie's center. The King had died with a weak whimper, and Sebastian gained little satisfaction or revenge for the years of torture the Pixie King had given him.

With a muttered curse, he picked up the frozen body at his feet and carried it to the open windows. But even when Erlane's body plunged headfirst, shattering on the cobblestones far below, it still failed to give Sebastian peace.

I
t took less
than a day for the battle to die down after news of Nicholas Erlane's death spread across the city of ClarenVale. Sebastian dispatched runners to nearby cities to spread the news eventually across all of Lismaria—a new King sat on the throne.

Sebastian sank into the throne in ClarenVale's massive hall, smoothing his hands over the marble armrests. Emotions crashed inside of him as eighteen years of blood and turmoil washed across his memories.

He had fought for this for so long. He'd strained every nerve toward this—the throne on which he'd wished to sit for the last two decades, jealously watching the movements of Erlane from across the waters. Now that he once again owned his rightful inheritance, he wanted to bury his face in the sleeve of his tunic and cry with the utter relief of it.

Nothing was returned to its former glory yet. His soldiers still walked about the hall lacking formation, their mantles tattered and bloodstained. Bodies littered the courtyard outside of the throne room; the citizens who dwelt in ClarenVale peered in terror from their windows as they watched for destruction and terror to knock on their doors. It would take time to rebuild, but he relished the thought of doing so.

“Your Grace.”

A soldier hurried toward him. Sebastian recognized him as second-in-command to Commander Jerrus, a Leader named Gormond. He'd attended every military strategy meeting since Sebastian had left West Ashwynd.

“What is it?”

“Your Grace, the head of your Third Pixie Division requests an audience with you.”

“What does he want?” Sebastian asked, irritated. He wanted to revel in his victory in solitude a while longer. He had no interest in audiences yet.

“He will not say.”

A thought occurred to Sebastian. He stood. “What of the girl? Reports have reached my ears that the fire-haired girl and her Mirage were seen in the battle last night, as well as that silver-eyed Dragondimn from West Ashwynd.”

“Aye, Your Grace, I can confirm that.”

“Where are they?”

“We are holding them at the moment, Your Grace,” Gormond sketched a bow. “They have been causing an unusual amount of trouble in their attempts to escape.”

“What do you mean?”

“It appears the boy has the Fire-Touch.”

Sebastian's thoughts revisited the night he'd wrestled in the woods with the boy, and of the shattered sphere that had blown him across the clearing.

Gormond went on. “He's burned any structure we've tried to keep them in. They are currently bound in the open on the rock cliffs where the battle began last night.”

“And what of the Dragon-Master? Have there been any sightings of him?” Sebastian asked, nearly afraid to hear the answer.

“He has escaped, Your Grace. Reports this morning have said that he has crossed the Channel of Lise. We believe him to be in West Ashwynd.”

Fear struck hard at Sebastian's core, followed by white-hot anger. “West Ashwynd!” Cedric would take Sebastian's throne across the Channel, then. He had left his kingdom in the capable hands of his steward, Pomley, and another Commander, Banler, but the boy was insidious. He would snake his way into everything Sebastian had worked so hard to build.

“Your Grace, may I show in the Pixie leader?”

Sebastian roused himself from his thoughts. “Aye, send him in.”

“I'm already here.”

The dark-haired Pixiedimn strode toward Sebastian, bypassing Gormond, and stopping before the dais where Sebastian stood.

Sebastian had no time to greet the Pixiedimn; the boy spoke before he could open his mouth. “Your Grace, last spring, you decreed that I was to be wed to Kinna, Pixiedimn of West Ashwynd.”

“Aye, so I did.” It had been a way to put the girl in her place and keep her there. He could have had her killed, and he'd thought many times since of doing so, but at the time, she had been a pawn he used to bring the best Pixiedimn trainer into his ranks.

The boy's face flushed darker beneath his tan. “I came to ask Your Grace if you would allow me to set a date for the ceremony.”

Sebastian arched a brow. “I annulled your betrothal months ago. I have no wish to see your bride trotted before me when the banns are announced.”

“We could make it a quiet ceremony, Your Grace—family and close friends. We need not bother you with it, only we hope to gain your permission so that it can go forward.”

Sebastian's eyebrow crept upward. “That does not mean that I will not see my niece make her way slowly toward my throne. No,” he held up his hand when the Pixiedimn opened his mouth to protest. “No, while my niece is alive, my throne is unsafe. The betrothal is annulled and will stay that way.”

The Pixiedimn's tanned face paled. “Your Grace, I love her; please, if there is any pity—”

“Pity departed my heart long ago, Pixiedimn. Get you gone; I don't wish to hear any more said on the subject.”

Gormond stepped forward, his heavy hand resting on the boy's shoulder. The Pixiedimn stared at the king, his jaw tight. After a long moment, he bowed and turned for the exit.

When the Pixiedimn left the room, Sebastian called Gormond forward. “I want you to send what troops you can spare across the Channel to find the Dragon-Master and kill him and any Dragons around him.”

Gormond bowed. “It shall be done.” He turned to go.

“And Gormond.”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Have a gallows set up in the central courtyard, nice and high, off the battlements. I wish to honor my niece's visit to my castle, now that she is finished hiding and is in chains.”

Gormond bowed again. As the Leader left Sebastian's presence, he was left in relative silence on his throne. People passed through the massive hall, busy with the duties of establishing Sebastian once more as King of Lismaria.

But West Ashwynd, he'd left open to his nephew's dangerous ability to control Dragons. Sebastian didn't know which he feared more—a dark Dragon cloud smearing the horizon or an auburn-haired boy who was the exact image of his brother, Liam, a ghost sent from the grave to exact vengeance for his death.

He'd kill the boy first, and perhaps ask forgiveness later, just in case there
were
deities who disliked Sebastian's methods of regaining his throne.

K
inna sat
on a boulder with her hands chained around a stake, staring at Ayden, who sat twenty spans away on another boulder in the same configuration. Neither could move more than a length in any direction.

Lincoln had appeared midmorning. He had been gagged and then led beneath a tree a few lengths from Kinna. He sat with a guard on either side of him and kept his gaze on his lap.

Dread tumbled through Kinna. She was aware of Lincoln's resourcefulness, and if the Pixie sat captive, what was the likelihood that any of them would find a way out? Sebastian had won; she was in chains. She knew her uncle too well to believe that he would show her any mercy.

Chennuh crouched behind her, his rumbling snuffs mirroring Luasa's behind Ayden. Tether-chains pinned the Dragons to the rocks. The creatures were uneasy, and Kinna felt Chennuh's disturbance. She nervously twisted her wrists inside the manacles.

A stir at the base of the valley brought her attention to the tents again. Julian's familiar form appeared on the path. Sage, his turquoise-haired Pixie, walked closely behind him. Julian spoke to the Deputy Officer who commanded the soldiers around them, and then he and Sage strode past all of them toward her. When he drew close, he sat on a nearby boulder. Sage crossed her arms and stared at the ground.

“You're not here to release my chains, are you?” Kinna asked when he'd done nothing but gaze over the castle for several long moments.

He turned his attention to her, ignoring her question. “Kinna, I wondered if we could be married immediately instead of waiting until we get back to West Ashwynd. Now that the King is on his Lismarian throne—”

“Just stop,” Kinna cut in. She shook her head, her gaze on her chains. “A wedding isn't necessary until we return to West Ashwynd, and there's no need to rush the date. Also, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm in chains here, Julian.”

Julian reached for her hand, stilling when she pulled it back. “Kinna, I know you're not excited about marriage to me, but I can protect you. I have more now than I ever had before. Sebastian raised me up, gave me a place at the head of the Pixies in the regiments. My family is wealthy now, thanks to him.”

“So you honor him for gold.” Disappointment slunk through Kinna's voice. Her best friend was distant and cold because of Sebastian. Her uncle had been successful in shredding one of the most important relationships in her life, and she despised him for it.

“Nay, I have no care for gold, Kinna. All I care for is you, and I think you know that.” He faced her and brushed a strand of fiery hair behind her ear. Across the open space, Kinna saw Ayden go still on his boulder. Sage inhaled an audibly shaky gasp.

Julian withdrew his hand and placed it in his lap. “I still have some time to serve in the army, and I don't anticipate that Sebastian will release me to return to West Ashwynd for some time yet. Kinna, marry me now; we can live here in Lismaria until my service is completed. And then I can take you home as my wife. King Sebastian still holds your father in his dungeons, but our marriage will seal his safety. He's promised.”

Kinna's vision blurred as she glanced over his shoulder at ClarenVale. She'd hoped—but it hadn't happened. She'd hoped to somehow be free of Sebastian, to see his power broken, and to have gained freedom for her father. But instead, she sat in chains, bound to the rock and still bound in an engagement she did not want.

Who knew how much longer Sebastian would keep her father alive? He had what he wanted—the throne of Lismaria—and he could wield his power even more cruelly.

Two options spread before Kinna, and she surveyed them with a clarity she'd never before possessed: either she could march before Sebastian's throne and submit to whatever punishment awaited her, or she could marry Julian, somehow pacifying Sebastian's strange wish that she should be wed to the Pixiedimn. If she chose the first option, the rebellion would flounder just as it was gaining momentum. If she chose the second—despite the fact that she loved another, despite the fact that she would live a half-life shadowed beneath Julian's increasing coldness—she could perhaps find a way to instill hope in the hearts of the people oppressed beneath Sebastian's regime. And she could save her father's life.

In memory, the flash of Ayden's eyes accompanied his whisper: “
It's bigger than you are, Kinna
.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek as she gazed past Julian at Ayden. She took a deep breath. “All right,” she murmured.

Julian's eyes lit up. “All right? You'll marry me and stay here in Lismaria with me until my term of service has been completed?”

Kinna nodded as misery pierced her. She couldn't follow her heart, not if it meant the death of her father. How could she ever face her mother again? She pulled herself together and forced a smile. “
If
I am released. At the moment...” She shrugged, holding up her chains.

Julian touched her cheek, his dark gaze intent. “Then Sage will release your chains, Kinna, and we can go immediately to ClarenVale's temple. I would not wait for Sebastian; he has yet to turn his attention this way, but—”

Footsteps interrupted him, bringing their attention back to the path. Several guards hurried toward her, a Leader at the front. Julian leaped to his feet. “Leader Gormand! What do you want?” he demanded.

Gormand's stare pierced Julian. “You were told to return to your Pixies. The King had no patience with your pleas. You heard him—there is no betrothal, nor will there be a marriage. What are you doing here with the girl?” His voice was clipped. “Your presence here calls your obedience into question, Pixiedimn. Shall I report this to His Grace?”

Kinna's ears buzzed and spots coated the edges of her vision as she swung her gaze to Julian, the boy she'd known and trusted since childhood. “Wh—what?”

Julian's tanned cheeks flushed redder than she'd ever seen them and then turned a sickly shade of white. His fingers fidgeted with the flap of his leather vest.

No one moved or spoke for a long moment. Julian cleared his throat. “I—I have no excuse, Kinna, except that—I love you and would do
anything
to—I hoped that if we were married, Sebastian would surely show lenience—”

“What about my father?” Kinna cried, confused. She turned to Gormand. “Tristan Pixiedimn of the Pixie Glades of West Ashwynd—he is Sebastian's prisoner in The Crossings, kept as surety for my obedience in this betrothal to Julian! What will happen to him if Sebastian has annulled the betrothal?”

The Leader gazed at her stolidly. “I do not keep the lists of His Grace's prisoners. I can tell you nothing.”

“But—but I received a letter that explained that Sebastian would force the betrothal upon me, if I resisted, and that he held Tristan in his dungeons—”

The Leader frowned. “Miss, I cannot tell you the status of the prisoner, but I can assure you that the King annulled the betrothal nearly four months ago, soon after the Tournament. He has no desire to see you wed to this boy.”

Kinna turned to stare at Julian. “You—you wrote that letter! Julian, you—betrayed me!” The words crept out of Kinna's throat, raw with anger. “You made me believe—you made my
mother
believe—
is my father even in prison
?”

Julian didn't answer. He couldn't meet her gaze.

Kinna slowly rose to her feet. She strained against her chains as she stepped close to Julian. Lowering her voice, honing each word to razor-sharp intensity, she said, “Get away from me, you snake. If I ever see your face again, it will be too soon.”

Julian blanched. “Kinna, please—”

Chennuh roared, heat distorting the air behind them. He raised himself off his haunches and advanced toward the Pixiedimn. Julian stumbled away as the soldiers flinched backward.

The last sight Kinna had of Julian was his slumped shoulders as he trudged to the Pixie quarters. She turned to Ayden. His silver eyes blazed in the sun.

Gormand motioned to the soldiers accompanying him, who moved behind Kinna and Ayden and released their chains from their anchors, pushing them forward. “You're to appear before His Grace within the walls of ClarenVale right away,” he said. “We will accompany you to the gates.”

Kinna swallowed. As much as she dreaded facing Sebastian, she hated this uncertain stalemate more. Lincoln had also risen to his feet. His chains were gone, but the gag remained in his mouth, and the soldiers gripped his arms tightly.

Despite the chains, despite the procession that would likely end in pain and punishment, Kinna couldn't help but take a breath of relief. Julian—that rat—would never bother her again.

Ayden moved as close to her as the chains and the soldiers allowed. “Are you all right?” he asked, his silver gaze searching hers.

She blew out a deep breath. “Aye, for now. Julian's betrayal hurt me, but it didn't crush me. At least, there is hope where my father is concerned.” She glanced at the soldiers and then back at Ayden. “We go to see Sebastian now,” she answered. “Are you ready?”

“That depends.” A half smile covered his face. “Are
you
?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you ready to be the queen your people need you to be?”

She stared up at him. “Ayden, Sebastian holds all the cards. It's doubtful that he will release me. If word has reached him of my involvement in an uprising, there is no hope of my life continuing more than a few moments from now.”

“While life continues, Kinna, hope does as well.”

Kinna raised an eyebrow. “You wish me to return to the people and creatures of West Ashwynd and stir an uprising, Ayden, but I don't see a way out of these chains.”

He tilted his head to the side. “It is well, then, that others have better sight than you do.”

Kinna's gaze flew to his, and then followed his glance over his shoulder at Lincoln, who strode behind them, keeping pace with the Dragons at the ends of their tether-chains, his arms securely in the grip of two of Iolar's Clansmen.

Hope stirred inside of Kinna for the first time that morning. A smile tilted her lips. “Bless you, dear Linc,” she murmured.

T
he drawbridge was already lowered
when they approached the castle, and a sense of foreboding shook Kinna's confidence as the silence of the procession hit her. She and Ayden walked side by side between guards, and behind them, more guards struggled with the Dragons' tether-chains, though they maintained a lengthy distance from the creatures. Chennuh and Luasa followed, their tails swinging and their hot breaths hissing at anyone who came too close.

“It's quiet,” she muttered to Ayden as they stepped onto the drawbridge. The mouth of the courtyard yawned before them, but it appeared deserted on the inside. Guards lined the battlements, though, and the drawbridge over the swiftly-moving moat. “Where are the people of ClarenVale? The crowds should be out in the streets.”

“Celebrating Sebastian's takeover?” Ayden shook his head. “I would be hiding, too.”

“But the people don't know Sebastian as we know him. They only knew Nicholas Erlane's rule, which I've heard was pretty poor, as well. At least the curious should be out.”

They crossed the drawbridge. Chennuh and Luasa attempted it, but spears blocked their way. Kinna's dread deepened. What would Sebastian do to Chennuh?

The Dragon crouched on his haunches. His displeasure was contained by the tether-chains, but they didn't stop him from singeing the clothes of the soldiers who got too close. He roared, making the soldiers cringe, but the tether-chains held him too tightly. Kinna could hear his distress. Lincoln remained standing in the middle of the two Dragons, much calmer than she'd ever remembered seeing him when he was so near them.

Kinna and Ayden entered the silent stone courtyard. Kinna's stomach tightened as the soldiers turned from their posts on the outer wall to watch her progress with Ayden.

The portcullis crashed to the ground. Kinna turned with a gasp. “Ayden—”

“Touching, touching,” Sebastian's voice resounded from the stairs leading up to the battlements. At the top, a hangman's noose dangled in the cold breeze.

Kinna's heart leaped into her throat.

“So kind of my niece to come to visit.” Sebastian spread his hands, a wicked grin parting his beard. “As you can see,” he waved toward the noose. “I've decided to keep the home fires burning.”

A roar shook the wall at the back of the courtyard, and at Sebastian's nod, two doors opened, and two massive Poison-Quills lumbered into the open area. The blood drained from Kinna's cheeks as they released flaming rivers into the air.

“They're angry,” Ayden whispered unnecessarily.

“You think?” Kinna glanced back at the portcullis, to Chennuh, and gasped. The soldiers who had kept Chennuh and Luasa back with tether-chains were striking the creatures with heavy maces. The Dragons' mouths were open in thundering roars that were only drowned out by the closer and louder ones of the Poison-Quills.

“Ayden, what do we do?” Kinna shouted, panic paralyzing her body.

Lincoln yanked the gag from his mouth, and began to sing, but over the pandemonium of the roaring Dragons, no one heard him. The soldiers saw him, though. One raised a sword, but the Elf beside Lincoln blocked it with his own. Lincoln drew a blade from his belt and engaged the soldiers on the drawbridge with the second of Iolar's Clansmen.

Hands grasped Kinna, yanking her away from Ayden. A dagger pressed against her throat. “Ayden!” she shouted.

Ayden struggled between two soldiers as they dragged him toward the stairs and Sebastian. He yanked an arm free and rammed his foot into one soldier's stomach. The man bent double, and Ayden turned on the other, but the remaining soldier clung to his arm. “You'll kill her, mate!”

Ayden jerked his head toward Kinna, pain shimmering in his brilliant eyes. His hands in their chains blazed.

“If you want to see the blood drain from her pretty throat, continue your actions!” shouted the soldier who held the dagger to Kinna's neck.

“Do it, Ayden!” she wheezed, but the flames died from his skin. He couldn't risk it, or wouldn't.