Dawn of Cobalt Shadows (Burning Empire Book 2)

by Emma Hamm

  “Yes?” Camilla asked.

  “Message for you, Matriarch.”

  The title was something she hadn’t wanted, but the other woman insisted on calling her it. Taking a deep breath, she took the offered note in her sister’s hand and nodded. “Thank you. Go back with the others.”

  “Matriarch—”

  If Camilla had learned anything from Sigrid, it was that being harsh was sometimes the best option. She sharpened her tone and snapped, “Back with the others.”

  A swell of pride rose in the other woman’s eyes. She curtseyed small, gave her a tight smile, and made her way back down the winding stairwell where the others waited.

  She didn’t want to appear cruel. Sometimes this felt a little more brutal than it should be. Sigrid’s voice in her mind whispered they needed someone strong. Someone who could throw them all to the ground and teach them how to be better if it came to that.

  Such was the only person a Beastkin would respect.

  Najib opened the wardrobe door, a goofy grin on his face. “Is it safe to come out yet? I wouldn’t want anyone to know you’ve found a little bit of happiness.”

  “Enough.”

  “I’ll let you know when it’s enough.” He jolted forward, racing toward her and lifting her high up in his arms. He squeezed her so hard she squeaked, then laughed deep in her belly at his antics.

  “Stop it, Najib. I have a letter. I have to read it.”

  He let her drop back to the floor then dramatically fell back on her bed. “By all means. I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of the great matriarch. I’m sure there’s far more important things for you to be doing right now.”

  “Instead of you?”

  He lifted a brow but didn’t respond.

  Camilla snorted and snapped the wax seal on the rolled up scroll in her hand. This was likely yet another close neighbor asking for their assistance. She hated saying no to all those leaders whom they had helped before.

  Sigrid was right in that the humans needed help. Someone was going to have to break. Either they needed to learn how to take care of themselves, or the Beastkin would start doing things for them again.

  They weren’t beasts of burden like the Bymerians were. Perhaps that’s what Jabbar’s people worried about the most. The Earthen folk weren’t going to send the Beastkin to work in the fields. They weren’t interested in that kind of labor.

  But the Beastkin women had played a large part in keeping the kingdom together. Carrier birds with important letters that could only be trusted with a Beastkin. Standing beside a local ruler as a reminder there were more dangerous things than a royal edict. Too many things for her to count.

  The Beastkin were a way to remind people that danger lurked in the shadows. She thought, perhaps, that would be a good place to start once again. Having some kind of currency would only help their kingdom. No matter that Woodcrest was far away from everyone else. The world had a way of getting smaller with every breath.

  Unrolling the parchment, she tried hard not to show any reaction the moment she recognized the looping script. Only Hallmar had worked on his letters for this long so that every word was like a piece of artwork.

  She used to sneak into his room just to read his writing. It didn’t matter what he had written about. Sometimes it was just the boring recounting of all the things he’d seen in the kingdom. Fields that needed tending, cattle that weren’t doing well. She hadn’t cared at all. Instead, Camilla had found peace in the way he flicked the ends of his f’s and the intricate curl at the end of his h’s.

  My dear Camilla,

  I hope this letter finds you well, although I’ve heard more than enough concerning details about the Beastkin community. I have only recently returned from Bymere, but thought I needed to see you.

  I understand much has changed and that most of the Beastkin have no interest in seeing me.

  And yet… I needed to hear it from you.

  There is a light in the forest beyond your window. A light that only your owl eyes should be able to see. Please, find me.

  Yours,

  H.

  Gods, she couldn’t look at Najib now. He’d know something was wrong. Tears boiled at the edges of her vision, too hot to think.

  “Camilla?”

  She burst free from her human form and allowed feathers to take over her body. The change was swift and painless. Immediately, she threw herself from the room, out the window, into the darkness beyond her tower.

  Najib called out for her, but she refused to turn back. The man who had raised her was out there, somewhere, and another Beastkin could find him before her.

  What would they do to the king if they found him here without any kind of protection? Hallmar was foolish to think they wouldn’t drag him back to the keep and kill him. He was the reason why they felt as though they’d been imprisoned their entire lives. Him and all the other royals who had used them like objects or toys for children to take out when they wanted them.

  It didn’t make sense that she would be so protective of him. Camilla considered herself among those who hadn’t liked her life in that gilded cage. She’d wanted to be seen as something more than just an animal. As a woman with thoughts and dreams of her own that didn’t include staying inside yet another stuffy building.

  Of course, now that she had her freedom, she was still trapped inside stone walls. Even her own people wanted to keep her trapped.

  Now, she understood why Sigrid had fled so easily.

  The wind whistled under her wings as she zipped through the darkness and searched for the small pinprick of light which would lead her to the king.

  There. Far beyond the keep and beyond where many of the Beastkin would think to look. A light in the darkness between the trees, likely only by a simple torch held aloft by a foolish man who seemed to think he was invincible.

  She flew to the torch, dropped from the sky, and landed on her hands and knees in front of him.

  Hallmar flinched back, his hand dropping to the hilt of the blade at his waist. “Camilla, that better be you.”

  “Don’t say my name so loudly, Earthen King.” She slowly stood and wiped the dirt off her hands. The clothing on her body felt a little too tight, like she wanted to immediately turn back into an owl just with him looking at her.

  And look he did. Hallmar’s eyes searched her from head to toe, in a different way than Najib had just done. One Beastkin looked at her as if he wanted to devour her whole. The king looked at her as if he was expecting to see more scars, more bruises than what his eyes found.

  Finally, he locked gazes with her, and Camilla almost had to look away. The sadness and grief in his eyes made her heart ache.

  “Is it true?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I need to hear it from you.”

  She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t. Sigrid wasn’t so easily killed. She was something stronger than any of them could understand. A dragon didn’t let something like an arrow end her life.

  But that wasn’t what Sigrid wanted. She had specifically said anyone, and Hallmar was included in that.

  Words catching in her throat, Camilla nodded. “It’s true.”

  She expected him to swear or break down like most men would. Perhaps he would strike a tree with his fist.

  Instead, Hallmar lunged forward and caught her against his chest. He pressed his free hand against the back of her head and held her as close as he possibly could. A great shudder ran through his body. “I’m so sorry, Camilla. This was never what I wanted for either of you.”

  Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She hadn’t wanted this for them either. She’d wanted to stay free as the animals in the forest, with no one who could tell her what to do or where to be. But that wasn’t a future any of them could ever have.

  The world didn’t want the Beastkin to be free. There would always be another cage. From the physical walls of the keep to the invisible chains of society. They would never be the animals in the forest, because they weren’t anima
ls.

  How had Sigrid realized this so quickly? How did she know there wasn’t an inch of this world that would allow them the freedom they wanted?

  Perhaps because she, herself, was a little more human than the rest of them. She knew how they thought, where their minds wandered, and she always made certain to know how they thought.

  Know your enemy, she used to say. Even if it means becoming them.

  Camilla pulled out of Hallmar’s arms, dashing her eyes so he wouldn’t see how badly she was crying. He didn’t need to have any added pressure. Not now when so much was happening and so many people were…

  A thought shattered through her mind like a stone thrown through stained glass. “What did the Bymerian Sultan say?”

  Hallmar shook his head. “It’s not good, Camilla.”

  “That’s… that’s why you came,” she whispered. “You were coming here to ask for help weren’t you?”

  “He has no interest in ending this war. He wants to continue it, simply because there’s no way to stop the tsunami he’s created.” Hallmar paused and swore under his breath. “I thought if I could speak with Sigrid that she might… might protect the land she came from in the off chance that something like this will affect your people as well.”

  “But she’s not here.” The words scraped through her throat like a knife she’d swallowed down. The truth wanted to claw its way out of her body. To scream that Sigrid could still be found, maybe, that she could come back and end all this when they needed her most.

  “I thought he would see reason,” Hallmar continued, his voice hoarse with anger and rage. “I thought the boy could see reason. That perhaps after all this time he had grown.”

  “He does see reason,” Camilla replied. “If there was one thing I learned while being there, it’s that the sultan is a far more intelligent man than any of us give him credit for. He knows what he’s doing, and now that he’s taken back the kingdom as his own… he’s unpredictable. At best.”

  “Unpredictable doesn’t mean unreasonable.”

  “Well, he’s that too. But for reasons that neither of us could likely understand. He wants to see his kingdom prosper, and he’s willing to do anything to ensure that.” she cleared her throat, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Even letting go of someone who is very dear to him.”

  Hallmar frowned. “Sigrid?”

  “They grew… close. Probably closer than either you or I could have imagined. Yet, when it came down to it, they both chose their own people and countries over each other.”

  “The battle.”

  “More. Their story is not a good one, Hallmar. I don’t know what to tell you. She’s still broken, far worse than I’ve ever seen her with anyone else. Leaving him was like leaving a part of herself in that desolate place.”

  His eyes narrowed and she realized what she’d said at the same time he did. “Still?”

  Camilla scrambled, knowing that she’d already been caught in the lie but not able to say anything other than what Sigrid had begged of her. “My apologies, Highness. I still forget sometimes that she’s gone.”

  “Hmm.” His grunt was little more than a realization.

  She’d seen that look on his face many times. Hallmar was a highly intelligent person. He knew how to play the political game better than anyone she’d ever met. Likely why he was king of the Earthen folk and no one else had taken his throne yet. They used to be a warring people before he’d come into power. Now, no one had a chance to even think past his suspicions.

  Finally, Hallmar cleared his throat and shifted his weight onto the opposite foot. “If Sigrid were still alive—”

  “She’s not.”

  “But if she were.” He held up a hand so she couldn’t interrupt him again. “Then I would tell you to find her as soon as possible. This war is going to destroy Wildewyn. Not the humans, not just the peasants and royals, but everyone. The Beastkin here will be drawn into the fight, they won’t have a choice. But if someone were to intervene, perhaps speak with the sultan so he might see some kind of reason… we would have the time we need to prepare.”

  Camilla licked her lips. “She’s gone, Hallmar. There’s no way anyone can speak with the dead.” In her mind, she prayed he’d understand the words underneath the ones she had said. There was so much she wished she could tell him.

  Sigrid was gone, far beyond her reach. No one could find the ancients unless they wanted to be found. Even Sigrid could be dead on a mountain somewhere, failed in her quest to find the help they all needed.

  He shrugged. “There’s always a way. I’m certain the Beastkin know a ceremony which can find someone dear to them. Or perhaps, that someone might be able to fly ahead and scout for the person we’re all seeking.”

  “It’s impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible. That’s a word we all made up so we wouldn’t feel guilty stopping ourselves from reaching greatness.” He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders one more time. Pressing a kiss to her hairline, he whispered, “Go and find her, Camilla. For all our sakes.”

  As Hallmar faded into the darkness, making his way back to whatever army waited for him or group of assassins, Camilla realized she really didn’t have a choice.

  Sigrid needed to return, whether she was ready to or not. She waited heartbeats until she was certain Hallmar wouldn’t see her. Then, she burst into the change and flew on silent wings toward the mountains beyond.

  16

  Sigrid

  She slid down the steep slope of the mountain, bow in hand. Eyes trained on the stag straight ahead of her, she made certain her movements were quiet. The beast could hear even the slightest twig snap. Thankfully, the leaves underneath her were still wet and heavy with snow. They didn’t crunch as she shifted her grip on the wrapped helve.

  Sigrid let out a quiet, long breath as she drew back the bowstring. Each heartbeat was counted as she watched the animal move. It lifted its head for a moment, eyes seemingly finding her in the brush, but then it dropped back down to eat the acorns it had found.

  I’m sorry, she thought, as she always did while hunting. The fletching stroked her fingertips as she released the arrow. It sang through the air, striking straight and true through the heart of the stag.

  The beast stumbled only once, then fell to the ground.

  Her heart clenched at the life taken. Though she knew it was necessary so the other Beastkin in this clan could eat, it still somehow felt wrong. Animals felt too close to killing her own people. Was it cannibalism for a deer shifter to eat deer?

  She’d never had thoughts like this before coming here. Sigrid had simply eaten what was put in front of her, knowing that it was well prepared and safe to eat.

  Now, she wondered where it came from. Why it was there, and heaven forbid who had killed it.

  One of the male Beastkin from the enclave slid down into the brush beside her. “Nice shot,” he muttered, clapping a hand hard on her shoulder and then racing toward the meat. There were other things in these mountains that needed the meat as well. They would gather the stag as quickly as possible, making quick work of the gutting process and keeping every bit of the beast for themselves.

  The ancients made use of every part of every kill. It didn’t matter what it was. The bones were used for carved runes that they were certain helped keep them safe or speak with the dead. The meat, organs, even intestines were either taken or used in healing.

  Sigrid hadn’t ever seen anything like it. She watched the male pull a knife from his pocket then turned away. The gutting of an animal always felt a little too personal for her to take part in. There was something that made her stomach turn about that pop of flesh in the initial jolt.

  However, it certainly made her dragon pleased. The creature inside her practically slobbered at the mere thought of fresh, bloody meat.

  She looked up at the mountain beyond where the brave trials began. Aslaug had explained that many of their young people endured hardships and tes
ts before they were allowed to join a certain sector of the ancients. Braves were those who hunted, protected the tribes when necessary, and most of the people who were considered warriors.

  Sigrid had insisted she should train with these people. She’d fought her entire life. She might even be able to train them in new styles of battle they hadn’t been exposed to before.

  Aslaug had chuckled and said a dragon had no need to learn how to fight. The creature would take care of her far more than a blade or sword. What Sigrid needed was to learn a little patience.

  She didn’t want to learn any more patience. She wanted to do something other than help these people out and feel increasingly more like she was being taken advantage of.

  The first part of the brave trails were handholds hammered into the side of the ice cliff. They were precarious at best. They didn’t look exactly like anyone who had placed them knew what they were doing. But perhaps that was the point.

  Sigrid remembered her own training with her mother, and then Camilla’s mother. A warrior was supposed to know how to get out of any situation, even ones that they caused themselves. They needed to be prepared for the surprises of life and battle, reacting accordingly, in a way that would get them out alive.

  “Sigrid!” the Beastkin behind her called out. “Come hold the heart for me. I don’t want to spoil the meat with a wrong slice.”

  Just like that, she made her decision. She could stay here, with this man she didn’t know, gutting a beast that she hadn’t wanted to kill. Or she could explore this land that the people were so sure they needed to hide from her.

  Sigrid looped the bow over her shoulder, hooked the strap of her arrow pack so none of them would fall out, then raced toward the handholds.

  “Sigrid?”

  She launched herself over a fallen tree and the gap in the ice where she might have gotten trapped. Catching hold of the first one, she thumped hard against the ice wall. The breath might have knocked out of her lungs if she hadn’t been prepared for the impact. Instead, she’d tightened her stomach muscles and prepared her body.