Page 42 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame (Fated for Hael #1)

She was falling.

Plummeting through the air, Cahra’s breath was ripped away.

Her blood raged like wildfire in her veins, bile shooting from her stomach to scald her throat.

She tried to breathe, tried to scream, but could do nothing as the floor of Hael’s tomb converged at lightning speed.

Refusing to let the looming tiles be the last thing she ever saw, Cahra closed her eyes.

In an instant, Hael was there, as he always was now, her protector.

Her only shield.

He caught her, his powerful legs braced against the stones, arms wrapping Cahra in an embrace.

At the feel of his sturdiness, her head against the broadness of his chest – at the realisation she’d stopped falling, she sank into his grasp, her breaths heaving, the smell of burning in the air.

She had survived without shattering her back or skull, thank the—

Seers. Cahra froze, her thoughts derailed.

Hael stared in the direction of the presumed ceiling for a time, then gazed at Cahra.

The abreption of their last vision had held; he was still lovely.

His midnight hair cascaded in wild, sleek spikes that edged past his shoulders, his cheekbones sharp enough to draw blood as his lips peeled back into a feral snarl, wolfish fangs glinting in the blackness.

Cahra tried to focus on his ethereal beauty, rather than what had just happened.

But Hael was having none of it, asking, ‘ What in the name of Tenebrius occurred? ’ The fires of his eyes were blazing black, which she’d begun to guess was related to his emotions. He hadn’t let go of her. If anything, he was clutching her even tighter, an immovable fortress.

She bit her cheek. The last thing she wanted was to talk, but what was the alternative?

Sit and bear the icy tiles as they bit into her palms, staring into the endless dark, and let the cold numb the pain threatening to dash her against her insides, her blood and guts and bones?

Looking into the ever-burning eyes of the only one who knew what it was like to feel this alone, she took a shallow breath.

‘I know, about my family. About Kolyath.’ She swallowed. ‘Who I am.’

Hael’s flames guttered, the blackness receding ever so slightly to a wine-red, and in their softened glow, she saw the quiet compassion etched across his face. The sorrow.

Suddenly, the dam Cahra had been pushing so hard to uphold burst irreparably free.

Not because of her bloodline, or even Kolyath’s varied cruelties.

It was that she’d had a life. Parents, people who loved her.

Something she’d never had the courage to imagine for herself, the scrawny girl skulking in filthy alleyways, weeks-old dirt staining her face as she watched for Kolyath’s guards so bigger, older kids could brawl over mould-mottled bread.

She’d had a mother and a father, and someone had killed them, all because of the prophecy’s burden Cahra now bore. Because of her.

Hot tears stormed her face and she cried, big wracking sobs that left her wretched. Hael froze, unsure of what to do. Finally, he set her down, and Cahra gripped him, the only anchor she had now. The only person she could trust.

Tentatively, he held her. Then slowly, he seemed to remember human comforts, embracing her gently, his flames reduced to embers.

As Cahra wept for a life she never knew.

‘Did you know?’ Cahra asked him, closing her eyes. She’d finally stopped crying and they were sitting on the floor against the altar, Cahra atop Hael’s robe, her knees hugged to her chest as she leaned into his strength. His shoulder felt so natural against her cheek.

‘ Of your kin? ’ He looked at her, palms resting on the knees of his crossed legs.

‘My parents,’ she said, wiping her face, the darkness of the tomb welcome for once. ‘My line.’

His gaze was soft, unflinching. ‘ Of your bloodline, yes. The Scion is always born of a sister kingdom line. Kolyath is an opportunity, ’ he told her, if gruffly. Then Hael paused. ‘ However, I did not know of your kin’s fate. I am sorry, Cahra. ’

She nodded, then sighed. ‘I think you mean Cahraelia,’ she muttered.

‘ Your true moniker, ’ he mused. ‘ You do not approve? ’

Cahra made a face. ‘It sounds like the name of a dainty flower.’

Hael’s lips curled as he rumbled a laugh. The sound was mellifluent, like deep, warm chimes.

‘ It is your truth ,’ Hael said. ‘ Just as you, Scion, are my own. We should address why you were sent to me today. ’ Cahra nodded, then straightened.

‘ The second omen is significant, as much for you as I. The first omen – the Sigil of the Seers – awoke me from my slumber. Before you, er, arrived, ’ he gestured to her fall from the sky, ‘ I sensed the Key’s beacon flare upon your touch. The second omen has now come to pass. ’

Her anxiety caught her by surprise. ‘What happens next?’

Hael frowned. ‘ The Oracle did not impart this knowledge? ’

Cahra shook her head. ‘There was no time. I touched the Key and it transported me. Well, “transported” is maybe not the best word.’ She scowled. ‘But no, the Oracle did not.’ Cahra had a feeling Thelaema was the kind of person to not impart a lot of things.

‘ I see. Well, I must now impart something to you. After which, the second omen requires a rite that we must perform, together. ’ Hael’s expression hardened, the lightness of his laughter moments ago gone. He stood, but he was fidgeting.

‘It can’t be that bad,’ Cahra said. Could it?

Hael was silent, his lips pursed.

Well, that wasn’t an answer. Cahra got up, twisting her body to sit on top of Hael’s black altar. If he was going to tell her something bad, she wasn’t waiting on the ground for it. She leaned forward, legs hanging over the edge, and resisted the urge to hurry him up.

They were eye level, and for all his poise, he seemed taken aback by her direct gaze.

‘ The Scion, and in this case, the prophecy’s omen-bringer, is always of Kolyath, Luminaux or Ozumbre’s royal bloodlines, ’ Hael said, ‘ as Hael’stromia is sovereign to all. The Key… ’ Pausing in his stalking, he faced her. ‘ Do you know its function? ’

Cahra rolled her head from side to side and grimaced, bones cricking as she tried to loosen her taut muscles.

‘Thelaema said all that was left of the omens was for me to come to Hael’stromia and free you. She didn’t say what the Key opened.’ Cahra looked around them, rubbing her neck. ‘I’m guessing this room’s door?’

Hael’s smile was tense. ‘ That is not all. The Key unlocks this chamber – my shrine – yet it is also used to access the palatial temple, as well as each of the capital’s gates. ’

‘Oh.’ Cahra frowned. ‘Right. So if the Scion, the omen-bringer, is a royal, and that Scion is me, and I have the Key, and that frees you here…’ She looked up at him, frowning. ‘I still don’t understand.’

This time, Hael’s smile was unencumbered, his fangs flashing in the murky light.

‘ This is what I must impart to you, Cahra – Cahraelia. ’ He bent his knee to sink before her.

‘ I may curse the Oracle for not revealing your true mantle, however, given the nature of what you have learned today, I appreciate her hesitation. ’ Hael looked at her with such intensity that Cahra found the bile was roiling in her once again, and she gripped the edge of his stone altar.

‘ Only a blood heir to one of the kingdoms may dare hold sway over the Hael’stromian realm.

It is the duty of the Scion, aided by the Reliquus.

The Key breaks the seal on the magicks that constrain me and my powers.

Once the seal is broken, the capital may rise to her feet. ’

Cahra nodded, tallying everything he’d told her, the picture forming.

She whispered, fearful as she spoke the words, ‘So where does that leave me?’

Hael rose so swiftly she gasped. A shadow flitted across his face, inches from hers, as he pressed his lips together. Then his expression softened.

‘ As Empress of Hael’stromia, and Master of the Reliquus. Me. ’ He bowed reverently. ‘ I am yours to command. ’

Cahra recoiled. ‘You can’t be serious,’ she stammered.

‘Being told I’m a Princess is enough fun for one day, thanks.

’ Except Hael didn’t joke. She leapt from the altar, bare feet hitting the tiles with a slap.

‘There’s no way! What business do I have being your master?

’ She gaped, incredulous. ‘I mean, you’re a magickal warrior.

I can’t even fight with a sword.’ Cahra was circling him now, the urge to move, to do something, anything, searing inside her.

‘Hael, I can’t be an Empress! I’m not like Thierre, I’m not a real royal, I haven’t been trained! I don’t, I can’t— ’

Thierre, she thought helplessly. This was made for someone like him, not her, someone trained in courtly, well, everything.

Someone had made a horrible mistake.

‘ Cahra. ’ Hael wisely reverted to her name.

‘ It is your truth. Only the Scion can communicate with me, prior to ascending. Here, we are between the veil and void. The capital’s magicks draw you and I, our astral essences, together as Scion and Reliquus .

The Oracles themselves could not reach us here. ’

Cahra put her hands to her temples, rubbing at them. Her head pounded.

‘This is ridiculous.’ Their astral essences?

As in, their souls? She leaned against the altar, the stone a stark support.

‘How can it be me? There are a dozen other high-borns for the job – what about King Royce of Luminaux? Even the Steward knows more about ruling than I do.’ Cahra winced, voice straining as she said, ‘Hael, you have to help me, this can’t be right! ’

He moved for her, saying, ‘ I will, I swear it. However, I can assure you that it is right, in every sense. You are the Scion. ’ He paused. ‘ And you, too, are of high birth, Cahra. ’

She sagged back against the altar. She hadn’t even thought of that.

‘ Would it help you to hear of the final omen? ’