Page 36 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame (Fated for Hael #1)

‘How did you find me?’ Cahra asked. The sun was breaking over the jettied buildings on the quiet streets of Luminaux. Moving from the main road, the kingdom’s pearly shops gave way to small timber-framed homes with cream walls and royal blue criss-crossing beams.

Even the slums were nice here, Cahra thought.

‘I heard you leave,’ Wyldaern said, strolling beneath the low awnings with her hands clasped neatly at her waist. She tilted her face to Cahra, her soft, dark curls falling to one side, the hem of her black robe sweeping forward with each step, brushing against her ankles.

‘I remembered the way you looked at the blacksmith’s from the carriage.

It was as though you had spotted a lost love. ’

Luminaux and love. Two things Cahra didn’t want to think about.

Wyldaern caught the look on her face. ‘He hurt you,’ she murmured.

Cahra knew who she meant. ‘He did,’ she said slowly, sighing. ‘Thierre misled me, and not for the first time. Learning he was a Prince, not a lord, and that he was engaged…’ She shook her head. ‘I just feel so stupid.’

But then, Kolyath didn’t have royals. How was she to know what to look out for? Cahra could feel her anger rising at the thought. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter any more. We’re leaving soon. I never have to see him again, if I don’t want to.’

‘And do you? Want to?’

Cahra flashed back to Thierre’s lips on hers. As good as the kiss was, and as much as she had wanted it, wanted him… ‘I don’t know.’

Wyldaern nodded. ‘I think I understand.’

Surprise filled Cahra’s face. ‘You do?’

But Wyldaern had a faraway look in her eyes and longing in her voice as she said, ‘The thought of what could be, if only fate had other plans for you.’

She nodded back, wondering if Wyldaern meant her life as a disciple of the Seers. Had the woman had other plans for herself, a love of her own?

They’d arrived at a small garden square where dainty flowers sprung from the earth, their peach and rose-coloured petals frolicking on the ebbing breeze. Around its edges, the garden was dotted with a variety of scrying herbs. One of the parks Thierre had mentioned, Cahra supposed.

She took a deep breath. ‘Wyldaern, there are things I need to ask you.’

The woman’s eyes cleared as she looked at Cahra. ‘I can imagine. Shall we?’ Wyldaern gestured towards the park’s bench, and they sat.

Cahra leaned her elbows on her knees, sorting through her many questions. She almost didn’t know where to start. ‘Do you know what I’m going to say?’

‘Because I am a Seer?’ Wyldaern looked amused. ‘Sadly, no, although I can probably guess.’

Cahra nodded, gathering her thoughts. ‘In Thierre’s carriage, he asked you if a vision led you to us, and you said yes, that it was how you knew his identity. What did you see?’

Wyldaern turned to face her. ‘Cahra, I must be clear. I am not Thierre. I cannot and will not lie or keep secrets from you. But some questions you shall ask of me are best left for She. It is our – the prophecy’s – way of things.

Within such bounds, I will answer what I can.

So, to your question. A vision did lead me to you, but the Oracle will tell you why. ’

Cahra snorted. ‘That’s what Hael said when I had questions.’

Wyldaern straightened. ‘You have spoken with the Reliquus?’

She glanced up, at both Hael’s title and her tone. ‘Since Thierre and I left Kolyath. Why am I having visions of Hael? How are they possible, if he’s trapped inside the capital? And what does this have to do with the longsword I forged for Thierre?’

Wyldaern’s lips were pressed together in a tight line.

‘And you can’t tell me, because the Oracle has to, right?’ She sighed in frustration, rocking back against the park bench. ‘Okay, what can you tell me?’ She thought of Hael. Hael, the unfairly attractive warrior. Hael, the—

Cahra whirled to Wyldaern, forcibly lowering her voice.

‘And Hael is the weapon! How does no one know the weapon is a man?! The way everyone talks about the prophecy and the war to control Hael’stromia, I thought the weapon was a magickal sword that shoots lightning or devours souls or something, not an actual, physical man! ’

‘The Reliquus isn’t a man,’ Wyldaern said slowly.

Cahra slid her a glance, the image of Hael’s muscular torso threatening to burn her cheeks again. ‘He’s definitely a man.’

‘What I mean is,’ Wyldaern cleared her throat, ‘the Reliquus is not a human male. Hael is… a Netherworldly being.’

Cahra thought of Hael’s fires, of him healing her knee. ‘I guess that’s true,’ she said. ‘But how? How come no one knows about him?’

‘Much has been lost since the fall and the Reliquus simply faded from public view, replaced by the concept of an “ultimate weapon”,’ Wyldaern explained. ‘Less dangerous, particularly when the kingdoms declared war.’

‘How do you figure?’ Cahra said, frowning. ‘Look at what the idea of the weapon has done, the way the Steward reigns over Kolyath. It’s all because of the weapon. The Steward wants to crush the other kingdoms with its power.’

Wyldaern fixed her gaze on Cahra. ‘Because a weapon, conventionally defined, depends on physicality; reach, contact and the like, to strike. Whereas the Reliquus, Hael…’ She trailed off.

‘Let us say, the stakes are different. The Oracle did not correct such thinking, that the weapon was merely a tool. It would only have served to galvanise the tri-kingdoms if they knew the Reliquus could single-handedly fell a military force.’

He can what?! Despite the sun’s warmth, a chill sunk into her bones.

Wyldaern smiled, a token that somehow didn’t meet her eyes. ‘He was granted dark powers that we cannot comprehend. Magicks from the Nether, from between—’

‘The veil and void,’ Cahra finished, the Seer nodding. ‘But Hael’s not evil?’

This time, when the Seer smiled, it was in earnest. ‘No, that he is not. There is no light without darkness, no creation without destruction. Despite Hael’s origins, he is part of the great balance.’

So Cahra’s instincts had been right about him. That was a relief, after Thierre.

Wyldaern was watching her. ‘The two of you are in contact early.’

‘Hael said he’d tried to contact me before, when I was in danger. Maybe the other Scions were less reckless,’ Cahra said, only half-joking.

The Seer was still studying her.

Cahra’s fingers grazed the bench. ‘And you know about him. Because you’re a Seer?’

‘Because of the Oracle. So, yes, I suppose.’

‘Have you met him?’

‘No.’ Wyldaern laughed softly. ‘It would squander the precious magicks he has left. He needs those to communicate with you.’

The Seer’s answer caught Cahra off guard. She had seen with her own eyes just how weakened Hael had been. It never occurred to her she might be the cause.

Or, as it turned out, the solution. Well, her suffering. ‘But why?’

Again, Wyldaern gave her that look, the one that said she’d have to wait.

Cahra groaned. ‘Fine, but you have to answer this one. When you said “tell none” about our first conversation, which part? The white light, or something else?’

Wyldaern sagged in relief. So she could answer. ‘I knew then, of Luminaux’s Prince masquerading as Lord Terryl. As I said, you did not know who you could trust.’ She went on, ‘Though it appears that he was right, about this kingdom. It is not Kolyath or Ozumbre.’

Cahra had to agree. Regardless of what she thought about any one individual, Thierre’s family was doing something right. Quillon and Leon at the smithy seemed happy.

Another reason she’d never fit in here.

‘You couldn’t, you know, see that before?’

Wyldaern smiled ruefully. ‘No. The Oracle, She has far greater powers than I. My visions are more discriminating as to when, or even if, they appear.’

‘Can I ask you,’ Cahra found herself whispering, ‘how does it work?’

Wyldaern’s hand intuitively went to her necklace, thumbing the Sigil of the Seers. ‘Sometimes, as I said, I am gifted visions. I am also learning to scry for answers.’

Thinking of how little she knew, about everything, Cahra mumbled, ‘Sounds handy.’

Wyldaern held her gaze. ‘You will get answers. That, I can promise.’

Cahra stretched her legs, thinking about how Wyldaern had helped her, so far: marshalling her strength before Delicia, chastising Thierre – a royal – for deceiving her, even getting her away from Thierre’s parents when she couldn’t cope.

Only to find her at the smithy and aid her, yet again.

Cahra looked at Wyldaern. ‘Why are you helping me?’

The Seer paused, eventually saying, ‘I follow the teachings of the Oracle, and She has much to impart to you. It is my duty to deliver you to her.’

Duty. Hael had said something similar. The word stung more than Cahra expected.

It was strange. Ever since she’d fled Kolyath, she’d felt like things were changing, like maybe she was changing.

Running to keep Lumsden safe, warning Thierre and his people, saving Raiden, training in a weapon, Hael, even wearing a dress.

But after it all, after she kept trying just to get through each day, and not give in to hopelessness…

Maybe she wasn’t changing at all, maybe she wasn’t ready to trust. Maybe everything since Kolyath had been a mistake.

Cahra didn’t notice the silence that had descended until Wyldaern spoke.

‘And yet, it is not only my duty, Cahra. I am here with you because I wish to be.’ Wyldaern turned to her, expression fierce.

‘You are the reason Raiden and Thierre came to my aid in the Wilds. You are a good-hearted person, and Kolyath was lucky to have you. I am lucky to know you. For that, and reasons that I cannot yet explain, you have my support on your journey.’

Slowly, Cahra let Wyldaern’s words sink in. She’d never been good at compliments. She raised her eyes to the Seer’s smiling face.

‘You were tough in your terms with Thierre for our safety, our freedom. Thank you.’ Cahra exhaled. ‘For fighting for someone you’d just met.’