Page 65 of Of Nightmares & Fire (Elusive Umbra #1)

“I hail from the cruel city. The outer rim of Eathian. We have traveled some way, stopping only in hopes to refuel ourselves and pay our respects to the royal family who perished in the Great War. I took my life for granted before. Didn’t realize that without a fierce leader such as King Kratos and someone as caring as Queen Evren at his side, the kingdom would crumble, taking our lives with it.

Every day since has been a struggle, and I fear for my grandson.

He is the last of our line when I am gone.

” She coughs again into her rag. I notice then the deep color caused by use; it is stained red with blood from a deep, ragged cough.

It's jarring to hear the fallen kings and queens' names spoken aloud. Not many mutter their names other than in prayer quietly, under breath, or behind steepled hands in fear of what King Connard would do if he heard, but I guess a dying woman doesn’t have much else to lose.

“The King and Queen would be honored that you’ve come to pay your respects.

I hope that you join us tonight at the feast. There will be plenty for both you and your grandson.

” Her gray eyes brighten as I offer her the invitation before her brows crinkle as she looks at me a little closer than I usually like to allow.

“You look like him. You carry the same weight on your shoulders, the same fierce darkness in your eyes. I wished that I might see the day when Eathian was a great kingdom again, but it seems my time is running out. I only hope to get my grandson to the dwellers before the same fate is set on him.” I bristle but only acknowledge half of her words.

“The sickness you have, has it spread to him too?” I ask, and she nods just once.

Her eyes flicking to the skirt of the table where I had seen the little boy.

“I will make you a trade. It will help you with the symptoms until you reach the dwellers in the Creshian Forest.” I pull one of the tins from the pouch at my hip.

Her eyes widen, then she blinks fast as she looks up at me tears well in her eyes.

“The blades that are behind you. I would like both.” Then I take out a few coins and add them to my palm.

“If you have a holster for them, I would like that too.” The tears that she blinks away roll down her rounded, sunburned cheeks before she coughs, quickly standing and pocketing the bloodied rag.

She dips her hands into a saucer of water and dries them on her skirt before turning, revealing the blades that seemed to be calling to me.

“They say that long ago, the material used to forge Tsalalerian steel was imbued with the magick of the divine that killed the sea.” She lifts the black glittering blade.

Its handle is the same steel but rounded in swirling arches.

She places a thick swath of dark fabric on her knees before laying one blade down across it.

“The god was angry with the people who sailed his seas. They ravaged the lands they sailed between and caused chaos in their wake. He thought that by drying the sea he would force them to stop… He only slowed them down.”

She lifts the second blade, spinning it in a way that shows its beauty from all angles.

The sun catches on the clear oval stone at the center of the cross guard, and I couldn’t have stopped my lips from parting if I tried.

There, cast in resin and forged with time and magick, a small blue flower radiantly lit from within.

The flower of the scorpion grass, the same blue as Astraea’s eyes.

“He gave a piece of his magick that day—to the land that was drowned in darkness and blood. Legend says the black sands of the Dead Sea became as deadly as the men who once sailed its waters. The glittering shards lingering in its dark surface are the only reminder that the stars are still watching even when they are cast away by the sun. The magick, born of darkness and the heat of the sun, lies dormant until touched by the heat of a flame. There in the fire, where it’s forged, is where the magick awakens and becomes a honed weapon, a knife such as these.

The divine fire was lost to him when he dried out the sea.

” She smiles, though there is no light that reaches her eyes.

“A legend—a fallacy—a wish that the divine fire would once again be cast on the land and forge a blade strong enough to carve a new path for magick and men.”

“Legends have some ounce of truth, though, do they not?” I ask, and at that her gray eyes glitter with that same hope.

“Yes. Yes, I suppose you are right.” She says, covering the blades with the thick cloth. She binds it with a string of leather and then reaches into a chest, pulling out a black leather holster with beautiful filigree etched into its surface. It's the perfect addition to hold the beautiful blades.

“Thank you.” I tell her as I place both the blades and holster into my bag. “I hope to see you at the celebrations.”

“You are kind. Caring. So much like both of them.” She tilts her head in reverence, and I incline mine in kind before turning away and heading back through the crowd.

Making my way to the stables, I am only stopped a few times by people wanting to sell me baubles or goods.

Wanting to offer blessings or support. Though even with minimal stops, it takes nearly an hour to reach them.

Finally, I’m greeted with the scent of musty air and hay and the sounds of horses chuffing and neighing .

One of the stall gates slams shut, and a man strides toward me with a muck bucket in one hand and a shovel in the other.

His form is backlit by the sun shining in through the other side of the open barn doors; at first glance, I think it's my father walking toward me.

It can't be, though. He passed through the divine fire a few years ago now, and my mother soon followed from a broken heart.

He was one of the wealthiest men in this village, but you would never know it, judging by the calluses on his hands.

Oftentimes this is where I would find him. Khol and Eidola loved him.

“HA! I thought that was you!” Beckett shakes his head, the mop of chestnut curls bouncing with the motion, and a smile like a horned moon stretched out over big white teeth. The corner of my mouth quirks too. It's been a long time.

“It's good to see you.” I say, and he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug.

The bucket and shovel clattering behind my back.

“If you get horse shit on me, I’m going to show you what it's like to muck a stall with your face.” I say, and he laughs, letting me go and placing the bucket and shovel at a reasonable distance away.

Ignoring my threats, like they mean nothing.

He's probably one of the only people in the realm that could.

He takes his gloves off and throws them into another bucket that hangs from a hook on the wall.

“You’re here earlier than usual. Is everything ok?” He looks around at all the stalls. “Where is Khol? Mav said that you were bringing him and Eidola.”

“That was the plan. Things changed a bit on the way. That’s actually what I came here for.

I wanted to talk to you about supplying some horses for our trip back to Diemos, and I was hoping you had some men who could go retrieve Khol and Eidola from Elysia?

I’d feel better with them being cared for here while I handle some important things.

” I say, lifting a bag of coins between us.

“Your money's no good here. You know that. Father would roll over in his grave if I took money from you or Mavros. Will you be here for the feast then?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eye.

I haven't been to one of the feasts in at least five years.

Not since I decided to go down the path I had chosen with the Diemos queen.

“I will be. There is someone I want you to meet.” He grins, and I bump him in the shoulder. He's tall, but not nearly as tall as Mavros and me. “Talk to Mav tonight at the feast; we need the horses ready to go the morning after the Shula Morana.”

“I’ll make it happen.” He says with a nod.

“I know you will.” I say, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a sigh. One more tense conversation, then we will enjoy the party before we head to Diemos. Where everything will change…