by Emma Hamm
Dawn of Cobalt Shadows
Burning Empire Book 2
Emma Hamm
Copyright © 2019 by Emma Hamm
Cover Design by Julijana Mijailovic https://julijanam.com/
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Every once in a while, you meet someone who lets your soul run free with theirs.
I hope, someday, you meet this person who knows you’re going to render their soul to ashes.
But who also knows a dragon cannot burn.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
33. Epilogue
Afterword
About the Author
1
Sigrid
Dappled sunlight played across Sigrid’s face. The warmth of the sun stroked her cheeks and left lingering heat in spots on her bare arms. Birds sang bright and clear, their songs lifting up to the clouds, twirling in the wind that toyed with her loose golden curls.
How long had she felt trapped here? How long had she lingered in the shadows of this land hoping that someone would leave her alone long enough so that she could feel this one more time?
“Sigrid?” a voice called out.
And there went her peace.
She rolled onto her side. The skirts of her simple overdress twisted through her legs with her movement. A white undershirt kept her arms warm. The chill of autumn had arrived. Thankfully, the afternoons were still filled with the sun, if she could find a private spot to linger in solitude.
“Camilla,” Sigrid called out. “You’re supposed to be at the feast.”
Her dearest friend, the only person she would truly call her sister, pushed aside a branch and ducked into the small clearing where Sigrid waited. Camilla, as always, was dressed like a wild thing. She’d taken to wearing furs now that it was colder out. A hide skirt revealed the long expanse of her bare, dark legs. A leather corset paired it, and she’d placed a sheepskin over her shoulders for a little extra heat.
One of the other Beastkin had braided her hair into rows at the top of her head. When had Camilla’s hair gotten that long? The ends hit her hips as she walked and whirled like whips when she turned too quickly. The look suited her, although it made her perhaps a little less approachable.
Sigrid and Camilla had always liked being intimidating, however. Perhaps this was her friend’s way of continuing to push people away.
Her onyx skin gleamed in the sunlight like the sheen of her warhorse after battle. Camilla’s face split into a grin, and she shook her head. “The feast? You mean the one which can’t start without you?”
“They know very well I don’t care for those kinds of revelries.”
“And they’re still waiting for you.” Camilla crunched through the fallen leaves, then landed hard on the ground next to Sigrid. “They’d rather have their leader eating amongst them.”
Sigrid hated it. She’d somehow managed to gather herself an entire kingdom of people who wanted her to be something she wasn’t. They wanted her to be lethal, a dangerous creature who thirsted for blood and wanted to burn all the kingdoms to the ground.
She might be a dragon, but she wasn’t a monster.
“Well, even leaders need to get away from everything sometimes.” She rolled onto her back and stared up through the red leaves rattling above them. “Maybe I should disappear in the night and not return for a few days. Would they starve themselves, you think? Or would they somehow manage to survive?”
Camilla smacked her shoulder with a laugh. “Get up, you. They’re going to start gnawing on each other’s arms if we don’t get back soon.”
Good. Maybe they would relax once the blood started flowing.
Shaking her head, and knowing it was a bad idea to stay, Sigrid sat up and rubbed a hand on the back of her neck. “Help me with my hair then?”
“They don’t care what your hair looks like, Sigrid.”
But that was the difference between her and Camilla. Her owlish friend could walk among them and no Beastkin would ever question why she was there. They would look at her and laugh, no matter what clothing or style she chose. If she wanted to walk through the camp naked with her face painted, she could.
Everything Sigrid did was a sign to them. If she changed her clothing style, then suddenly everyone in the camp was wearing the same kind of dress. If she wore her hair down, they wondered if she was sick. If she wore it up in a different way, they wondered if something was changing.
Each detail of her life had suddenly become an omen. She had to watch what she said or did.
This was worse than Bymere. At least there, the people had looked at her as if she was some kind of nightmarish creature. They’d wanted nothing to do with her and, because of that, they’d freed her from the cage she’d always lived in.
It seemed that she’d traded her freedom for yet another cage.
Camilla must have seen all the emotions playing across Sigrid’s face, because she sighed and twirled a finger in the air. “Turn around then, you fool. If that’s how it’s got to be, then I’ll make sure the braids look normal this time. Do you remember what happened when we tried a different style?”
Sigrid snorted. “I don’t want to see that many people running around looking like we were going to be attacked from every direction. Did you know that you’d given me a traditional battle hairstyle?”
“Of course I did. That’s why I gave it to you. I thought it made you look fierce.”
She didn’t need anything else to make her look fierce. Sigrid was a perpetually terrifying creature with eyes like steel and a second form that could raze kingdoms to the ground. Of course, her friend didn’t see her that way. Camilla only saw her as the little girl who used to play with her through the corridors of the castle, finding all the secrets hidden within the walls.
And Sigrid loved her endlessly for it.
The soothing touch of her friend lulled her into a false sense of security. The forests here were lush, untouched by man and barely touched by beast. When they’d first arrived, the leaves had been so green they looked like emeralds hanging off of each branch.
She enjoyed seeing the seasons change. From the bright colors of spring, the warm tones of summer, and now to the burning, fire-like qualities of autumn. But she wasn’t looking forward to winter, when all her people would be cold and would have to hunt for meat that would inevitably become harder to find.
Camilla stroked a hand down her hair which was now half up and braided in random strands. “There. I suppose you look a little more like yourself.”
Together, they stood. Sigrid immediat
ely placed a hand on her hip, only to find that her mask was no longer there.
The item had become a symbol of slavery. A symbol of all the things the Beastkin had suffered and all the mistreatment at the hands of both Earthen folk and Bymerian.
She still missed it.
Camilla’s keen eyes stared at Sigrid’s hand on her hip. “You still look for it?”
“Every day.”
“Why?” Camilla had always had a hard time understanding it. “Those things were on our faces, hiding who we were, for centuries. Not just us, but all the Beastkin who had come to the Earthen folk’s halls for safety.”
“I don’t know how to explain it.” Sigrid shook her head and started back toward the keep. “The mask was more than just something to hide my face. It gave me a sense of… safety, although I’m sure that’s the wrong word. I wasn’t a woman when I wore that mask.”
“You aren’t a woman now. You’re a Beastkin, and a dragon at that. You are so much more than any other woman.”
If she heard that one more time, she was going to scream.
Sigrid forced her face into a mask, changing her features to remain still and cold. Even to her best friend. “Then we should get back to the feast as soon as possible. They’ll want me to be among them.”
Their trip back to the keep was silent. Camilla clearly knew she had said something wrong. Sigrid felt her gaze on her face throughout the short trip, but she didn’t say a word.
Camilla didn’t understand why she wouldn’t just accept the fame and enjoy it. There were many people here who were so happy she existed. Finally, it wasn’t just the small number of Beastkin living in the capital who knew they had a much more powerful ally than each other. They had something that was more powerful than all Beastkin combined.
She had never felt so isolated in her life. Sigrid didn’t want this kind of fame, and she certainly didn’t want to use the dragon to fight. She’d done that once already, and the guilt burned in her chest far hotter than any dragon fire.
Nightmares plagued her every night. She still heard the screams of Bymerians as she rained fire down upon their castle. The Red Castle, the place where she’d learned so much about the people she’d always thought were monsters.
The Bymerians were supposed to be terrible people. All of them. They were supposed to be monsters who didn’t care for their children, who threw Beastkin into pits of flames, who hated anyone different that crossed into their kingdom.
Instead, they had been… not open-minded, but at least interested in what she had to say. The people on the streets had at first been the monsters. But she had seen a different side of them that confused her. A side which was soft and kind, thoughtful and accepting.
And then Nadir had turned into a dragon, fought with her midair, and she didn’t know what to think about it.
She had been certain they were going to slaughter him at his weakest moment. That they would have destroyed him where he lay just for being the kind of creature that she was. But then Raheem had told her he was still alive and she had to see him.
He was hiding Beastkin. And delivering them to her side just to save them.
Sigrid’s mind was in such a constant state of shock she didn’t know which way was up most of the time. She couldn’t even tell her dearest friend, because she knew what Camilla would say.
Stop talking to the Sultan of Bymere and remember who your people are.
Her lungs seized and suddenly, she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Sigrid burst through the edge of the forest, her feet striking the cobblestone path. She scanned the scene in front of her with a mixture of disdain and pure disappointment.
Living with animals sometimes had its benefits. They were never hungry, because most of the Beastkin could live entirely on meat. Those who couldn’t, could smell out food that was safe to eat. They hadn’t even needed to start a farm this year, because there was plenty to go around.
But then sometimes, living with animals meant that they lived in filth. All her eyes could see was the destruction of the keep around her. They’d started the feast without her, or at least, the drinking part of the feast.
In a daze, Sigrid walked past a tent that had been shredded by claws. The bedroll inside hadn’t fared much better, and she knew the inhabitant would be getting to stay inside the keep tonight. Shards of pottery littered the ground, likely the last of the precious few she had brought back from Greenmire Castle the last time she’d spoken with the Earthen King.
Sigrid stooped down and ran her finger through what looked like a river of red. She touched the finger to her tongue, relieved it was wine and angered that they were wasting so much.
A Beastkin man stumbled by her. One of the Bymerians who clearly wasn’t used to the strength of Earthen alcohol. He weaved down the street with a hollowed out gourd in his hand. Liquid sloshed, spilling over the edges and falling onto the stone path.
“Dragoness,” he said, slurring his words. “You were supposed to be here a while ago.”
“And drink wasn’t supposed to be opened until this evening,” she replied, catching ahold of his arm when his knees buckled. “Which tent is yours, brother?”
“I don’t rightly know where I am, to be honest.” He leered up at her, his eyes crossing for a moment before he righted himself. “You’ve got beautiful eyes, love.”
Camilla ducked between them before Sigrid lost her temper entirely. “I’ll take him back to his tent. I know which one is his.”
The anger within her burned so hot, she almost punished him for the words regardless of her friend stepping in. But that wasn’t her. That was the ridiculous creature inside her who was making itself more known as of late.
Sigrid stepped back and nodded. “See that you do.”
The hissing whisper of her friend filled the air as she dragged the man away. “What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?”
Even her own people worried that she would lose her mind and burn them all to the ground. Comforting thought when she lay in her bed alone at night.
Sigrid curled her fingers into fists, squeezing so hard she nearly drew blood. The pain helped her focus, so she wouldn’t think dark thoughts. That after all this bloodshed, after starting a war between two countries, that she could ever regret freeing the Beastkin.
She turned and made her way to the castle. It loomed in the distance, ominous and bold as ever.
They’d yet to name it. Mostly because neither group could decide on what to call the place. Castle, palace, or keep felt wrong to say even though those were technically the words they should be using. They felt too cold to make this place a home, and there were no kings or queens here.
Sigrid was the unofficial matriarch, but the panel of people who made decisions for the Beastkin came from each of the houses that were forming. Predators, prey, avians, all the creatures seemed to have someone who wanted to rise to the forefront. But everyone listened to Sigrid and Jabbar.
She set her shoulder against the double doors leading into the great hall and shoved hard. Think of the devil and he shall appear.
Jabbar sat reclining on top of a large table at the far end of the hall. He lifted a fist full of what she could only assume was cow meat, rivulets of dark blood dripping down his hands. The Thunderbird preferred to have his meat either raw or barely cooked.
Even Sigrid wasn’t so savage.
The interior of the keep hadn’t fared any better than the outside. Food splattered the wall, decorating each and every surface with a mess she couldn’t overlook. There was a splatter of blood coating one side. Hopefully not from one of the Beastkin but from a poor animal they’d feasted upon. Clothing hung from the rafters, and a table was overturned in the corner.
Laughter filled the air along with the sounds of animals grunting and groaning. These, she was certain, were actually Beastkin.
Jabbar’s voice boomed throughout the hall. “Ah yes, the illustrious fighter returns from her solitude!” He lifted the hand full of carrio
n in her direction. “Welcome home, dragoness.”
It had been Jabbar who’d started calling her that, and the others had fallen quickly into place as well. They had little interest in declaring themselves nicknames that linked them to their creatures. But for her? They wanted her to know that she was different.
Sigrid knew it didn’t come from a dark place. They wanted to honor her with the name, as if she was some kind of mythical creature who had appeared out of nowhere to save them.
To her, it felt like just another declaration that she wasn’t the same as them. That she was some kind of creature who had to be held apart from all the others.
With a sigh, she held her head high and made her way to Jabbar’s side.
He watched her with a calculating gaze. Everything she did was weighed and measured by this man. He didn’t care if their people prospered, not really. Now that they all had a warm place to sleep at night and food in abundance, his mind had turned to darker thoughts.
“Have you finally come to your senses?” he asked as she reached him.
“No,” she answered bluntly. “There is no reason to create a warband. There is no reason to attack the Earthen folk.”
“They held your people captive. I think that’s enough reason right there.”
“With the understanding of our own Beastkin. The captivity was an agreement on both sides. It is no longer an agreement we wish to stand behind, and so we left. They have not followed us, nor have they put up any kind of fight when we tried to free our sisters.” She put heat behind her glare. “Leave it be.”