Page 53 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame (Fated for Hael #1)

‘Again!’

Cahra ground her teeth, two hands gripping the great-hammer poised above her head. With careful footwork, she let it fall, the metal block carving a low arc behind her as she hefted on the upswing to raise it overhead again.

‘Again!’ Piet shouted, in time with her heaving breaths. She’d asked for this, for training drills to channel her anger and fear, hammer in hand, like she would’ve in Kolyath. Before anyone else got hurt.

The Ozumbre soldier in the caves flashed back to her, the man’s pulverised armour, his organs – his ribs, his heart – spilling out from the magick Thelaema had unleashed.

Cahra shook the stiffness from her shoulders, as if to oust the self-loathing now battling the numbness in her mind, flailing desperately to save her from her feelings.

From herself and what she’d almost done. Cahra gritted her teeth and swung.

Again!

She couldn’t rest, couldn’t face the idea of being alone with her thoughts now that she’d volunteered her life for Thierre’s.

Forfeited it . That’s what Thelaema had muttered into her mind as she and Wyldaern left the den of war.

She knew the Oracle was angry, as angry with Cahra as the woman was with her own pupil.

But even Wyldaern understood that Cahra being Empress didn’t make Thierre’s life expendable, and she was thankful for that support.

She might trust the Oracle, but Thelaema had made enough choices on her behalf. This time, she would decide the danger she’d be walking into.

And that danger was the two most violent rulers in the realm.

Before she could rattle through a fresh list of gemstones to distract her, Cahra heard footsteps outside Luminaux’s training arena.

It was Thelaema, accompanied by Raiden. Piet must have sensed the tension rippling between Cahra and the Oracle, for the warrior dipped his head and withdrew.

Cahra lifted the ebony handle of her hammer and twirled it as Raiden and Thelaema neared, the great-hammer’s gems dancing weakly in the overcast light of morning.

‘Any news?’ Cahra didn’t look at Thelaema.

‘I have contacted the rulers of Kolyath and Ozumbre,’ she replied.

Cahra tried and failed to swallow. ‘And?’

‘As per your terms, an exchange has been negotiated.’

Cahra exhaled. Unmaimed , she reminded Thelaema.

Unmaimed , the Oracle confirmed.

The thought still sent a pulse of outrage through Cahra, but it seemed it was the best they were going to get.

She forced a breath down. ‘What do I need to do?’

Raiden glanced at Thelaema, then spoke. ‘The King of Luminaux has decreed it: our Royal Army marches for Hael’stromia tonight.

Commander Tyne and General Sylvanir are strategising as we speak, while our host moves for the exchange point.

Today, you may rest, then we depart the kingdom at nightfall.

The trade will take place at the capital. ’

So this is it, Cahra thought. She was finally going to Hael’stromia.

To Hael.

Cahra nodded. ‘How far is it?’

Raiden cleared his throat, taking in her sombre tone. ‘A night of riding.’

She nodded numbly again. ‘Okay.’

There was a strained pause, before Raiden stepped up to face her. His eyes were soft.

‘What you’re doing is incredibly brave,’ the Captain said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

What you are doing is incredibly stupid , Thelaema muttered into Cahra’s mind.

Ignoring her, Cahra tried to smile but couldn’t. ‘So long as it works.’

It was Raiden’s turn to nod. ‘We ride together. Now, I must prepare the Royal Guards, but if you need me, send word. I will be there,’ he told her, and Cahra understood. She had Raiden’s trust and his support, now.

He turned to go, leaving Cahra alone with the Oracle.

A wave of Thelaema’s hand, and the door to the yard slammed behind the Captain.

‘Have you completely lost your mind?’ Thelaema ground out, each word cracking like a whip.

‘You’re just mad you’re not making all the decisions,’ Cahra shot back.

‘Thierre is a Prince! Even if something befalls him, Luminaux still claims a King and a Princess. Their kingdom’s stability shall remain. Whereas you ,’ Thelaema chastised her, ‘are irreplaceable. You are the last of Kolyath and you have no successor!’

‘So what?’ Cahra threw up her hands, sick of the Oracle’s uncompromising attitude.

What did any of this matter when Hael’stromia was still an inhospitable smudge on a map?

‘What exactly happens if I die, Thelaema? Won’t the prophecy just roll around again, with some other Scion at the helm next time? Maybe even someone from Luminaux?’

‘I do not know! Yet I will tell you what I do,’ Thelaema warned, advancing on Cahra.

‘The vision that I was granted before I lost connection to the All-seeing predicted everything that has come to pass. Every single thing. No matter how you wish to be rid of this, you , Cahraelia, and all that you bring, even if you despise it, are what I saw!’

‘I told you, it’s Cahra! ’ she yelled. ‘And if what I bring is such a damn gift, then you should have no problem with how I use it!’ Why was the woman so bent on controlling her?

‘Foolish girl, do you not see? You could die at your idiotic exchange!’

‘Somehow, I think you would’ve seen that,’ Cahra retorted.

‘And if this is all a ploy? If Atriposte and Decimus refuse to exchange Prince Thierre, to keep him – and you – in line, in order to secure the weapon for themselves?’

Cahra took a deep breath. They wouldn’t… Would they? ‘Like I said—’

Thelaema exploded, the full weight of the Oracle’s Nether-magicks sizzling with the smoky purple of her gaze.

‘This is not altruism. It is not even your ill-defined feelings for the Prince of Luminaux, which a non-Seer could see, clear as daybreak,’ she said, Cahra flushing.

‘This is you martyring yourself because you are petrified to entertain the thought that you might deserve this destiny, your own rule – instead endorsing Thierre: the pretty Prince and an easy choice for unsaddling your duties.’ Cahra froze as Thelaema added, ‘When, precisely, are you planning to stop running from your responsibilities?’

Cahra could feel the remnants of Hael’s powers flare through her, their stinging heat, as she flung the words, ‘How dare you! Whose fault is it that I might doubt myself, or any of my so-called gifts, compared to someone who’s been born and raised as a Prince , trained and ready to rule at a moment’s notice? You are despicable—’

Thelaema sighed as she muttered, ‘As useful as communing with the desert sands.’ She fixed her gaze on Cahra. ‘Will you hearken to anything I say, or is divulging who I believe to be blocking my sight just as futile?’

Cahra was about ready to loop her hands around the Oracle’s wrinkled neck, but she managed to contain the impulse.

‘What? Who?’

Thelaema exhaled again. ‘Grauwynn, High Oracularus of the Order of Descry.’

‘I thought you were the last of the Oracles,’ Cahra said slowly, thinking back to their ride to Luminaux.

‘As did I.’ Thelaema’s face was grim. ‘And yet, I believe my deduction to be truth. When I shared your proposal with Atriposte and Decimus, minutes passed before King Royce received a message in kind. Only another Oracle, a spiritual leader, might command that level of connection to the All-seeing, tenuous as the Seers’ is since Hael’stromia was lost to us. ’ She looked troubled.

Cahra asked, ‘You never sensed anyone other than yourself might have survived?’

Apparently, her guess was right. ‘Not in the four centuries since the capital’s fall,’ Thelaema told her.

‘And no ordinary Seer could have learned to share their thoughts with others?’ Cahra frowned, trying to understand. Hael’s connection to the Netherworld was mystery enough, never mind the Seers and the All-Seeing. Or how it had granted Thelaema such long life.

Thelaema shook her head. ‘No. It is beyond us now, beyond our diluted source.’

‘But this source, the capital’s magick, it kept you alive and kept them alive too. Why? And why did this Oracularus not make contact earlier? Why only now?’

‘All valid questions.’ The Oracle pursed her lips. ‘I have been unable to perceive him. Perhaps he also experienced this.’ Thelaema’s eyes flickered to Cahra. ‘Regardless, what is troubling is not “why now”. It is that he speaks from the side of those who side against us. Against you.’

And if Grauwynn, a High Oracle, has powers like Thelaema’s?

Troubling isn’t the word for it . ‘Does he know I have the Key?’

‘I omitted its mention,’ Thelaema told her. ‘Given that I bestowed it, that may block Grauwynn’s grasp of the omen’s passing. However, as old Hael’stromia’s High Oracularus, I would not count on that safeguarding us for long. He will learn of it, one way or another.’

Despite everything the Oracle had said, Cahra felt like she was back where she started.

Echoing the same question as earlier, she said, ‘So what do I need to do? What can we do?’ Her throat felt as arid as the capital’s black sands she would encounter for the first time. First, and maybe last.

Thelaema’s gaze met Cahra’s. ‘You know what you can do. Seek out the Reliquus. Replenish his powers. Enter Hael’stromia with something other than naiveté in your arsenal.’

Cahra cut her a glare, then turned from Thelaema.

The thought had occurred to her, somewhere in the dark alleyways of her mind.

The memory of what she’d almost done to that soldier in the caves, what could happen if she gave in to Hael’s black rage.

But if she went to Hael now and told him of her plan, asking for more power, she knew exactly how he’d react.

Giving herself to her enemies to save Thierre?

It flew in the face of Hael’s duty as her shield; he’d never forgive it.

Which was why she’d not called on him. He’d be absolutely enraged, and afraid for her. Not without good reason.