Firefrost: A Flameskin Chronicles Novel

by Camille Longley

  Sol nodded and settled into her perch. Pa tromped off into the woods, leaving her alone in the stand of trees. Sol kept her eyes fixed on the stream nearby. They never celebrated the Solstice without a big catch. Something would come, and when she took it down, Pa would be so proud.

  There was a noise behind her, and she turned. Josef slid toward her in the snow and scowled when she spotted him. He held his longbow in one hand, and an enormous quiver was strung across his back.

  “You’re impossible to sneak up on, Sol.”

  She shrugged.

  Josef sat next to her and surveyed the forest. “You two catch anything?”

  “Not yet. My pa’s checking the traps. There’ll be something.”

  Josef grinned. “I caught a big stag a few days ago. I’ll share some, if you like. I wouldn’t want your family to go hungry.”

  Sol bit back a scowl. Josef was aiming to be Hillerod’s hunter, but he didn’t have a chance. Sol had Pa to teach her the trails and the ways of the hunter, and Josef had never had the patience the position required.

  Something moved in the forest ahead of them. Josef had an arrow notched and the string pulled back before Sol had even looked up.

  “Stop!” she shouted.

  Josef loosed the arrow, and his target crumpled to the ground.

  “Pa!”

  Sol ran through the snow. Pa lay on his back in the drift, an arrow protruding from the right side of his chest. His body hitched and fell in painful bursts as he tried to breathe, and his clothes and furs were red with blood. He coughed blood onto the white snow around him. Sol dropped to her knees beside him, her whole body trembling.

  “Oh, gods above,” Josef said behind her. “What have I done?”

  “Get help,” she growled, and Josef took off toward the village.

  Sol’s hands shook, and her mind froze. Her breath was as flighty as Pa’s.

  “Pa,” she moaned.

  He gripped her hand. “Sol,” he said, his voice gurgling. Every breath was a struggle. He was drowning.

  Sol pressed her hands to her mouth and tears ran down her cheeks. What could she do? She wasn’t thinking straight. Her mind was as numb as her fingers.

  The emberstone. The emberstone could heal him.

  Josef reappeared, out of breath and with tears streaking his cheeks. “Hunter,” he said, “help is coming.”

  “Wait here,” Sol snapped.

  She ran toward their house at the edge of the town and stormed inside, banging open the door. She dragged the heavy chest across the kitchen, knocking off the oakwood bowl and scattering beans on the floor. She climbed on top and reached for the emberstone hidden atop the central roof timber.

  Ma made an annoyed sound. “Sol, what—”

  “Pa’s hurt!”

  Her fingers found the emberstone and her skin tingled as she touched it. She jumped off the chest and tore out of the house with the emberstone in her hand. Ma ran after her, not even bothering to put on her coat.

  Josef’s father knelt next to Pa and had turned him onto his side. The arrow had gone clean through his chest and its tip stuck out his back.

  “Elo!” Ma wailed his name. She collapsed beside Pa and cradled his head in his hands. “Elo, Elo.”

  “Josef,” his father said, “run and get bandages.”

  Josef’s father put a hand on Sol’s shoulder. “Keep him on his side. I’m going to get the matron. When Josef and I get back, we’ll carry him to your house.”

  Sol gave Josef a hateful glare. It was his blasted fault Pa was hurt.

  Josef and his father ran toward the village, and Sol knelt beside Pa again. She put the emberstone in his hand.

  “It can heal you. I know you know how to do it,” Sol said.

  She had heard the stories about the miraculous healings mages could do with the help of an emberstone. Pa’s emberstone was small, the size of a small pebble, but it must have enough fire to do something.

  Pa dropped the emberstone into the snow. His breath hissed in and out of his mouth. “No, Sol.”

  “Pa! Please! You’ll die.”

  She picked up the glowing stone again, but Pa shoved her hand away. “If I die, then I die pure. Not tainted by fire.”

  Ma swept hair away from Pa’s face. “Don’t leave us. You can’t leave us.”

  He pressed his hand to the front of her dress above her heart. “It was always here.” He coughed blood into the snow. “All those years searching, and I never realized my heart was here with you, and the girls.”

  Ma wept and pressed his hand to her face. His hand was bloody and had left a red handprint on the front of her dress above her heart.

  A sob rocked Sol’s body.

  Kelan’s humming stopped abruptly. “What’s wrong?”

  She buried her face in his red coat, cursing herself for the tears. She had promised herself she was done crying, and she hated crying in front of Kelan.

  “Have I offended you?” he asked quietly.

  She squeezed him hard as the sobs shook her shoulders. Why? Why did Pa have to die? Why did the gods take him on Solstice, of all days? Why did she let this demon touch her? Why couldn’t she be strong like Pa had been?

  “Sol,” Kelan murmured. “I’m sorry, whatever I’ve done.”

  She stepped away from him, her face streaked with tears. “It’s what you are,” she shouted, her voice cracking. “A demon.”

  She clamped a hand to her mouth. He stiffened and she turned away. She hated him, and she hated hurting him. But that was all she ever did, take out her anger and her fear and her loneliness and her grief on him. And she hated admitting to herself that he didn’t deserve it.

  But he was a Flameskin. Of course he deserved it.

  How could she celebrate Pa’s memory like this? Dancing with a Flameskin? It was wrong.

  Sol wiped her wet face with the sleeve of her fur coat. “My pa died last year on Solstice.”

  “Sol, I’m sorry.” He stepped closer, hesitantly, until his heat warmed her body. “Can I do anything for you?” he asked, so softly she was forced to look up and meet his eyes.

  Her heart roiled within her, every emotion all tangled up and raw.

  He took her hand and her bare fingers tingled at his touch. “Your pa would’ve been proud, you know, that you’ve kept us alive in the Ulves. You’re a true huntress.”

  She blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears. Then she looped one arm around Kelan’s neck and pulled him in, meeting his lips with hers. His lips were hot, and kissing him was like tasting the first scents of spring after a long winter, it was the heady exhilaration of the hunt. He held her close, wrapping his arms around her waist, and the warmth of his body enveloped her. She pressed herself against him, hating how much she wanted his warmth, how much she wanted him.

  His kiss was scorching, pulsing heat through her in a quickening rhythm that matched the beat of his heart. He cupped her cheek, then trailed his burning fingers down her neck. Everywhere his hand touched her skin, it burned in a way that was intoxicating and horrifying.

  What was she doing?

  She broke away and shoved him hard in the chest. He staggered back, his lips still parted. They were both breathing hard and staring at each other with wild, surprised eyes.

  “I hate you, Kelan,” she growled

  “Then what was that?”

  “A mistake.”

  His hands fell limp at his side. She stomped toward the bedroll and pulled the blanket of skins over her head, blocking out the dim firelight, and the night sky, and Kelan.

  She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. Why had she done that? And why had it ached so much to pull away from him?

  He lay down next to her, and she stiffened, but he didn’t try to touch her. He didn’t say anything. She curled up into a ball and set her jaw.

  “Good night, Sol,” he said softly.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Kelan was a demon, and that’s all he would ever be.

  Chapte
r 22

  Kelan

  Feel nothing. Feel nothing.

  Kelan repeated this mantra as they hiked, but every time he looked at Sol, his heart hitched, and his pyra bloomed hot in his chest.

  The kiss hung over them, and the air tasted like its memory. It was all he could think about when he looked at her, the way her lips had brushed his, hesitant at first, then how she had pressed up against him and wrapped her fingers in his hair. He had pushed his hands beneath her coat and finally traced the curve of her waist he had so longed to touch. All he could think about was the moment the kiss had changed, how it had grown earnest and hungry and full of fire.

  Why did she reel him in only to shove him away? It was maddening. She’d been angry all morning, stuffing her bedroll into her bag and stomping through the snow ahead of him. Her usual nagging, “watch out for that cliff. I don’t want to have to rescue you again,” was more insistent than usual. She ignored most things he said to her.

  They had both taken off their snowshoes to hike carefully down a steep, icy slope. Kelan crunched through the snow, stepping in the path Sol made. He was weak and hungry and tired and angry. She couldn’t treat him like this, like he was less than human, like he was just something she could toy with. Kiss one moment and curse at the next.

  He exhaled slowly. Anger would only feed his pyra.

  Feel nothing. Feel nothing.

  Kill her. Be rid of her, his pyra hissed, growing hotter with the frustration it consumed.

  Kelan shoved his pyra away, but its voice was as insistent as Sol’s.

  “Icy patch here,” she said. “If you slip and break your leg, I’m not carrying you the rest of the way to Cassia.”

  Kelan gritted his teeth and stomped hard in the snow, crushing it beneath his worn boots. He had no idea he could hate someone so much.

  “Sol, why did you—”

  “More ice,” she said, and crouched low as she moved, using her hands as supports.

  “Stop ignoring me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You can’t kiss me and then tell me you hate me. It’s one or the other.”

  “Fine. I hate you.”

  He stopped and stood still, trying to slow his breathing.

  Feel nothing. Feel. Nothing.

  Ashes! Heat rose to his head, and his pyra pushed angry fire through his arms and slipped trickling fingers of flame into his mind.

  We’ll watch her body burn. We’ll make her suffer for what she’s done to us.

  Kelan’s voice was low, and his breath caught in his chest as he tried to contain his anger. “Hate me, then. Because I hate you. You’ve never given me a chance to be anything but a demon. You see someone and you think you know them, but you don’t know me at all, Sol. And I’d never—”

  She yelped as her feet slid out from under her, and she tumbled down the slope. She rolled and twisted, throwing out her arms and legs trying to catch herself.

  “Sol!” His heart squeezed in his chest as he watched her fall, and he tromped across the ice toward her. He slid and caught himself a few times as he raced down the slope.

  When she hit the bottom of the hill, she finally stopped rolling. Her body lay still. Kelan’s heart lodged in his throat as he scrambled toward her.

  “Sol!”

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t move.

  “Sol, are you all right?” he asked, kneeling over her.

  She groaned and rolled over. Her cheek was bloody where the ice had rubbed it raw.

  “Can you sit up?” he asked and grabbed the gloved hand she offered.

  “Ow,” she whimpered.

  “What hurts?”

  “Everything. I don’t know.”

  “Is anything broken?”

  She bit her lip and rubbed her calf. “I don’t think so.”

  Kelan found her hat in the snow and brought it to her. She gingerly pulled it over her hair and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

  “I’m just so tired, Kelan. I can’t do this anymore.”

  “You can. We’re almost there.”

  She looked up and met his eyes.

  “We have to keep going,” he said. “And when we get to Olisipo I’ll buy you a big turkey leg.”

  She tried to laugh, but winced, instead.

  “Do you want the emberstone?” he asked.

  “No,” she snapped.

  Kelan sat back and sighed. Prickly Sol had returned already. That hadn’t lasted long.

  “I’m sorry about . . . what I said,” she whispered.

  Kelan sighed again. “Does your cheek hurt?”

  She touched her cheek and stared at the blood on her fingers. “A little.”

  “You did tell me you were going to find the fastest way down the hill, but I hadn’t imagined it’d be quite like this.”

  “Me neither.”

  He took the bag off her shoulder and pulled out the snowshoes she had stowed inside. “Can you keep walking? I’ll help you put these on.”

  She cautiously stretched out her legs and he fastened the snowshoes to her boots and his. He made to stand, but she snagged his hand with her gloved one.

  “Wait, Kelan.”

  He turned toward her, pressing his lips into a hard line. At this point he wasn’t sure whether to expect a kiss or an insult.

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Lucky me.”

  She scowled. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about you. I know I should hate you, but . . . .” She met his eyes, then looked away and shrugged.

  “You realized I’m human and it conflicts with your world view? Sorry to ruin your opinion of Flameskins, but it turns out not all of us are worthy of death in our infancy.”

  “Stop it, Kelan. I said I was sorry.”

  “Well, you’ve told me you hate me enough times that I’ve started to believe you.”

  Her face fell. “But I don’t. I don’t hate you.”

  He stood. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  He held out a hand to help her up, but she glared at him and pushed herself up without accepting it. She limped forward, muttering under her breath, and he watched her, searching for signs of injury, but her gait smoothed out after a few paces.

  They hiked for a long time in silence, long enough for Kelan’s anger to pass. Sure, Sol was as fickle as a spring storm, but maybe it was understandable. They had both been pushed to their physical limits, and a few weeks ago, they had stood on the opposite lines of a battle.

  But it hurt because Kelan could never be sure if she did hate him, or if that kiss had meant something to her like it did to him. When they got to Cassia would she be glad to be rid of him?

  If he weren’t so hungry, and if the traveling wasn’t so hard, he might’ve wished they could spend the whole winter together, just to see where things could’ve gone. Once they parted, would they ever see each other again?

  “Sol, do you think—”

  She held up a hand.

  “Stop ignoring me,” he said, his voice rising.

  “Quiet,” she whispered, stopping in her tracks. “I hear something.”

  He strained his ears. They hadn’t heard any birds today, and the snare had been empty this morning. There’d be nothing to eat tonight if they didn’t catch something, but he wasn’t looking forward to using his pyra to hunt.

  There was rustling in the woods, and figures stepped out from behind the trees. Kelan gaped at them. People. Other human beings. It’d been three weeks since they’d seen another soul in these mountains.

  Sol stepped back and took his hand. “Bandits,” she hissed.

  Kelan tensed. It was a group of five men, all armed with swords, and two held bows at their sides. They were Cassian, with light-colored hair poking out from beneath their fur hats.

  One of the bandits stepped forward. “You two traveling from Baarka?” He spoke Nordese with a thick Cassian accent.

  “Baarka’s gone,” Sol said. “Burned to the ground.”

 
The bandit swore. “What you got in your bags? Let me see.”

  Kelan stood straight and squared his shoulders. “I’m a Flameskin soldier. Leave us alone.”

  The bandit spat on the ground. “Where’s your sword then? You ain’t a Flameskin. That’s some ratty stolen uniform.”

  The bandit lifted his sword as he advanced. “And if you are a demon, then it’s my duty to kill you before you get to Cassia.”

  “Please,” Sol said, her voice faltering. “We’re just passing through. We have no food. We have nothing worth taking.”

  “That’s not true,” the bandit said and grinned. “A woman always has something worth taking.”

  The other men laughed, and Sol pressed herself into Kelan’s side, breathing fast. Kelan’s pyra bloomed hot in his blood, and heat surged through him.

  Kelan pushed Sol aside. “Stand back.”

  She fell into the snow behind him, her eyes wide. The air around him wavered with heat, and fire sparked and flared on his fingertips. The snow around him melted and gathered in a puddle beneath his feet.

  Kill them. Consume them with our fire.

  Tentacles of flame pushed at Kelan’s mind, and a pulse of fear made the fire on his hands falter.

  “Kelan?”

  The archers lifted their bows. “Kill the demon,” the bandit said. “We’ll take the girl.”

  Chapter 23

  Sol

  “No!” Kelan roared, his voice twining with the crackle of the fire inside him. He sounded otherworldly. Demonic.

  Sol scrambled away from him through the snow. The air around him sparked, and fire wound around his hands and burned the sleeves of his coat. The archers drew their bows, but two bursts of fire flew from Kelan’s hands and exploded into their chests, dropping them to the ground.

  The three other bandits charged them. The Cassians swung at Kelan with their swords, but he forced their retreat with walls of fire that poured from his hands.

  One bandit broke away and ran after Sol. She fled in the other direction, but he grabbed her pack and swung her backward. She screamed as he shoved her into the snow, raising his sword over her.