Embers

by Ronie Kendig

  “Not if someone went in after you.”

  Haegan glanced at her, and it was only then that she realized while he looked the same, the person sitting with her now was not the same one she’d knocked down in the tunnel. He tore his gaze away. “I won’t allow anyone to risk their lives anymore. I’m through. This is my decision.”

  “You must think you’re a prince or something, telling everyone what they can and can’t do,” she said with a laugh.

  “I beg your mercy. I only meant that I have no choice—if I don’t try, Kaelyria will waste away for the rest of her life and it will be my fault. I have no choice.” He met her gaze again. “You do.”

  “Yes, I have a choice.”

  A twinge of concern tugged at his strong brow, his lips flattening in a way that accented the firm line of his jaw. “Thiel, please—swear to me you will not—”

  “I can swim, tunnel rat.”

  “If anyone it should be Drracien. He’s stronger.”

  She shrugged. “Sorry, tunnel rat, but you don’t dictate this one. Now.” She stretched out her legs and pointed her toes. “When you jump, make sure your legs are like this.”

  “Thiel, I beg of you.”

  Ignoring the tug of her heart at the softness in his voice, she gave him a cheeky grin. “I like a prince who begs.”

  His cold fingers touched her cheek, drawing her gaze back to his. He slid his fingers around the back of her neck. “Please, swear to me.”

  Her heart pounded like the water hitting the pool. Not just because of the promise he was trying to extract, but his nearness. The way those blue eyes waxed nearly white beneath the stroke of the moon. The way her stomach clenched tight. Did he feel the spark between them?

  He must. His expression shifted. Not much, but enough. Then his eyes lowered to her lips. She couldn’t help but swallow and wet them. Craziest thing of all, she wanted him to kiss her. She’d never wanted anyone to kiss her. Not even Cadeif—well, at first. Theirs had been a fiery relationship, with him teaching her to spar, to defend herself. But among his people, she didn’t belong, and, ultimately, that’s what he’d wanted of her.

  Haegan wanted nothing. Asked nothing of her, save this one thing.

  “I’m stronger than you think,” she said softly.

  His lips parted. “I have no doubt of your strength. I see it every time I look at you.”

  She drew in a breath, surprised.

  He tilted his head, closing the gap between them.

  Thiel’s heart skipped a beat, anticipating his kiss.

  “Lovebirds! We need to talk.”

  Thiel twitched and drew back. She looked down, pulled in a shuddering breath, and let it out. She looked away. “He’s right. There’s . . .”

  “Thiel.” Haegan held her hand as they stood. “Swear you will not—”

  She pried free, a sudden rush of embarrassment pushing anger through her attraction. “I give no promise to you, Haegan, son of Zaethien. My actions are my own and will not be dictated by another.” No matter how blessedly handsome he was. Not even if he’d kissed her.

  Thiel returned to the camp and wedged into the small space between Tokar and Praegur. Haegan lowered himself to the ground. She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched over.

  “Dawn is nearly upon us,” Drracien said, touching his fingers together and pointing them to Haegan. “You must enter the waters as soon as possible after the first beam strikes the water.”

  “Why is that important?”

  “It is said the Kindling is strongest then.”

  “He can’t swim,” Thiel tossed in, her heart thudding. “I’m going down after him to help him to shore.”

  Silence dropped over them, leaving only the roar of the water. A thick grunt came from her left. Praegur thudded a hand against his chest. Then pointed to himself, then the Falls.

  “He’s right,” Drracien said. “He should go. He would be healed, too.”

  “No—” Thiel nearly bit her tongue severing her objection, immediately regretting her outburst. Of course Praegur would want to be healed.

  “Why does he need to be healed?” Haegan asked, looking at his friend in concern.

  “After you were taken, he . . .” Thiel bounced her shoulders, hating the weird feeling that squirreled through her when she remembered the moment. The ice in her veins. As if she were back home in Nivar Hold. “… something happened. He hasn’t been able to talk since.”

  “What happened?” Haegan scowled. “Did you see the healer?”

  “He refused.”

  “A’sides,” Laertes added. “He’s got a mark, what like you got.”

  Holding out his shirt so Haegan could see his chest, Praegur grunted what sounded a lot like, “I go.”

  “Thank you for helping me,” Haegan said. “I pray Abiassa protects us both.”

  Face still etched in sorrow and a measure of pain, Praegur nodded.

  “You will have time to race down to the clearing if you leave now,” Drracien said.

  Doubt flickered through Praegur, and it seemed his thoughts were visible. As if he felt bad for not taking the plunge with Haegan.

  “Please, friend,” Haegan said. “Spare yourself the terror. Go!”

  Without another grunt or look, Praegur trotted out of the clearing, leaped over the bushes, and vanished into the thick forest, heading down to the clearing. No doubt he’d have to navigate carefully along the edges of the camps to avoid the Ignatieri and Jujak. But Praegur was swift and silent.

  Drracien looked at Haegan. “You’re right. I saw the mark. It’s in the Parchments. A Deliverer must have touched you.”

  Haegan’s lips slowly parted. He gave a shake of his head, shock holding him fast. “I don’t think so . . .”

  “Trust me. You would have felt it. When I say ‘touched,’ it’s not like you and Thiel. It would be strong. They do not lightly extend their hands and leave a mark like that.”

  “The river,” Thiel said, remembering the jolt they experienced at the last second.

  Haegan’s eyes widened. “Yes. We were going to hit that jagged rock when we were suddenly tossed to the side.”

  “That fits,” Drracien said.

  “Incredible.” Tokar grinned like a mad dog. “Then that alone should tell you that you have no option but to jump in those waters. Clearly the Deliverer wants you to get healed for your sister.”

  “He wouldn’t have marked him if this was for his sister.”

  Thiel frowned. “What are you saying?”

  “The high marshal,” Haegan began, “said three had been known to bear Her mark and they’d all died. But horrible things happened.”

  Drracien nodded. “Which is why you need to make that jump.”

  “You think the Kindling will heal the mark?”

  “Remove or heal, I don’t know. But the stronger Her touch is in the waters, the better the chance, which is why I suggest being first in when the sun comes up.”

  “Red! Red streaks in the sky. It’s coming,” Laertes said.

  Drracien punched to his feet. “Come, princeling! Now, before it’s too late.” He led Haegan by the shoulder. Thiel hurried forward, determined to be beside him when he jumped so she could follow.

  • • •

  Stepping to the ledge took more courage than Haegan had accumulated in his eighteen years. He inched closer and closer, the pounding of his heart lost amid the feral roar of the waters crashing below his feet. Hands braced him, and he glanced to see Drracien there.

  O Abiassa, if there was ever a time to show yourself and speak, this would be it. If I am to die, please at least release my sister from this wretched curse.

  “Look!” Thiel shouted. “Look at the clearing.”

  Haegan shifted his gaze to the thin sliver of space that allowed him to see the clearing. A gaggle of horses had rushed into the open. Nearly a dozen riders. Who were—

  Haegan stiffened. He recognized the leader. It could not be. It made no sense. “It’s
Gwogh! My tutor.”

  “Sir Gwogh?”

  “The sun!” Thiel shouted.

  “Go!”

  The roar of a mighty “No!” that did not belong to the raging waters raced up from below.

  “Did you hear that?” Haegan shouted, his eyes locked on Gwogh, who—inconceivably—was looking up from the clearing, straight at him. Somehow, Haegan saw his disapproval. Felt. it. “Maybe I . . .” Was this a mistake?

  Frantic, Gwogh waved his hands over his head. “No!”

  How can I hear him? It’s impossible!

  “The sun,” Thiel repeated.

  “Wait.” Haegan leaned forward, watching his old tutor. Feeling a strange terror. A strong terror. “It’s a mista—”

  “Go!” Drracien pushed him—hard.

  Haegan pitched out over the Falls. Empty weightlessness assaulted his senses. Gravity yanked him down. Fast. And yet . . . not fast. The mists coiled around him. His legs flailed. Terror tore at every fiber of his being as the waters surged, greedy for his last breath.

  But as he fell, Haegan managed to find Gwogh. Remembered Thiel’s warning to keep his legs straight, toes pointed down. And in the strangeness of that experience, he saw Gwogh wield like he had never before. A field of air danced and rushed toward Haegan.

  Then another spiraling plume. And another. Not just one accelerant wielding, but at least five or six! Their combined efforts created a great and glowing plume that swarmed through the air and grabbed at him. A concentrated wield by so many would singe every hair on his body.

  Haegan cringed, anticipating the impact. The hissing mist. Shouts below. Screams above. Heat. Water. A blur. He looked away. Sucked in a breath. They were trying to stop him.

  No. He had to do this. For Kaelyria! “Abiassa, help me!”

  Unbelievably, their efforts hit a wall. An invisible but definitive wall. They could not reach him. It was strange. Unreal. Because he seemed suspended, the fall taking ten times as long as he’d expected. Droplets glistened beneath the bold touch of sunlight. Danced like gems before his eyes. And though he might be as lost as the Mad Queen, there was a thrum to it all.

  So serene. It—everything was so beautiful. So incredible.

  His toes hit the water. Like a brick slammed against them. The water was icy cold. Painful. But as his waist slid beneath the tumultuous surface, Haegan felt an explosion of heat. Shocked, he threw up his arms, arching his back. Fire. Burning!

  A mighty clap of thunder assaulted his ears. Darkness devoured him. Water gurgled as he slid to the bottom of the pool.

  He writhed. Strained against an agony that defied meaning and words. As if every piece of his body was being ripped apart. He curled inward, thrashing. Arched his back again and cried out. Water rushed down his throat. Into his lungs. Burning. Burning everywhere. Inside. Outside.

  He would die.

  At least Kaelyria would be free.

  Death invited him into its void. Stop fighting.

  The words tugged at him. Convinced him to surrender. Was he a coward to do this? To give up and let go? Either way—Kaelyria would be healed and Haegan would be free.

  Haegan relaxed his muscles and gave in to the smothering darkness.

  43

  Shouts rang out from the throngs held back from the water by the Ignatieri. Family members who had come to watch their loved ones receive a miracle shouted angrily. Jujak converged on Praegur, catching him as he scurried along the outer perimeter, past the newcomers wielding against Haegan.

  “No!” Thiel yelled. If they stopped Praegur, Haegan would drown! Panic ripped through her, nudging her closer to the edge. She had to jump!

  “Thiel, No!” Drracien wrapped his arms around her waist, restraining her.

  Wrestling against the accelerant, she searched the waters, impossibly hidden by the foamy wake of the waterfall. Where is he? “They’re stopping Praegur.” A sob choked her. “Haegan. I have—”

  Crack!

  Thiel stilled, searching the sky for the bolt of lightning she’d heard.

  Pop!

  A long howl flashed out.

  Drracien yanked her off her feet.

  “No!”

  Even as he whirled her around, Thiel saw a sight that froze her blood. Mists and water converged over the pool on a flat plane. They drew in tight. Snapped like a bow string. Then flooded out, crackling and hissing. Boiling—the water was boiling!

  Terror gripped her as she flew around.

  “Hurry!” Drracien tossed her behind the rock wall, a curtain of water breathing against her face. She stumbled backward, the edge of the drop-off against her hand. Rigid, she hunched and squinted, expecting to be evaporated.

  • • •

  “You must go to him.”

  Seated on a chair in their private chambers, Zireli bent forward. The burdens of the raging war and the impending defeat clung to him like sodden clothes. Weighing on him. Encumbering him.

  On her knees, Adrroania placed her long, delicate fingers on his knee. “Please, my love. Go. Find him. Bring back our son.” Her blue eyes glossed.

  He wanted nothing more than to track him down. “I cannot leave Seultrie undefended. I must remain here an—”

  “He is alone! He has no strategy, no plans.”

  “He should have thought of that before fleeing.”

  She drew back, her thin eyebrows knotted. “You think him guilty?”

  “Why would he flee?”

  “From your anger!”

  Zireli shoved to his feet, pushing away from her. He went to the beveled windows overlooking the Lakes of Fire. “Is it not justified? Have I ever wielded unjustly?”

  “Do not the edicts of the Ignatieri forbid accelerants from wielding against one another?”

  He spun to her. “Haegan is not an accelerant.”

  Surprise leapt through her face then washed away as she shoved her gaze down. “No. Of course not . . .” She wet her lips. “But he’s your son. I only meant—”

  The puzzle that had touched his mind at her strange expression fled before her words. “What? That our son should be exempt from the very laws I am tasked with overseeing? That the king’s son can do what as he pleases?”

  “Is he your son?” She strode forward, a fiery flush in her cheeks. “Because he has not heard your voice in years.”

  “Guard your tongue, Adrroania. You—”

  “No.” Her bosom rose and fell unevenly. “I have too long watched you bury your guilt in duties and capacity as king.” She let out a sigh. “You knew how to be a father once. And a husband. I would hope you recover that.”

  “The Nine are falling, and you would lecture me—”

  “If they fall, what are you then?” Her voice had dipped so soft and quiet it forced him to hush his own ragged breathing to hear her. “A king with no realm to rule is simply a man.” Her eyes glittered with meaning. “You are no longer king, but we are still your family. Haegan, your son.”

  “You want the realm to fall?” He heard his voice pitch, an unseemly and girlish sound, but his ears could scarce believe what they heard.

  “I want you to remember the man you once were—the man who loved his family!”

  Anger shot over his restraint like a flaming arrow but then fizzled and clattered to his feet as if doused by the water of truth. She was right. “What would you ask of me, Adrroania? Abandon the responsibilities placed on me by Abiassa Herself to guard Her land and people?” He stalked to the window and set his back to her. “I am the king and must—”

  “To Haegan, you were his father first.”

  “I am still his father, no matter the rhetoric. And Haegan left—fled. Like a brigand. His actions have severed my ability to protect him.” He felt the decade-old wound rotting in his chest. “What little I could . . .”

  Her feather-light touch came to his shoulder. “He asked for you every time I visited. Asked how you were. How your training was going. How the council meetings went. About Valor Guard selection—that,
by Abiassa’s Mercy, was his sorest wish, to be one of your elite.” Her fingers curled around the sleeve of his tunic. “He was starved for word from you.”

  Starved . . . just as his young body had been starved of strength. As the kingdom had been starved of a strong-bodied prince to grow up and rule the Nine after Zireli. All because the mighty Fire King could not protect his own son. Seeing him in that pitiful state . . . unable to move. Needing to be carried from place to place, tended as an invalid would, it had decimated Zireli’s courage.

  “I know you watched him sleep.”

  Zireli jolted at her words, and in her eyes he met understanding.

  “But he needs you now. More than ever, Zireli.”

  No. Haegan would want nothing to do with him. “He needs—”

  Thud! Thud!

  At the banging against their chamber doors, Zireli swung around, tucking Adrroania behind him. “Enter.”

  The doors swung open and the butler offered a bow. “I beg your mercy, my king.”

  Directly behind him stood Grinda, his face bloodied but steeled. The general looked . . . spooked.

  “What is it?” Zireli asked as he moved forward to receive his general and the ominous reports.

  With a curt bow and salute, Kiliv gave a sigh. “Reports from Hetaera.”

  “Graem?” Zireli’s gut tightened at the thought of the young captain coming to harm.

  Kiliv looked to him, then to the queen before once more focusing on Zireli. “Graem is . . . alive. A little roughed up, but following your orders.”

  The words were carefully chosen yet drenched in the Kiliv’s lingering disapproval over having his son sent out.

  “Has he learned anything of the prince?” Adrroania asked.

  Hesitation held the general captive. Clearly he knew something he did not wish to share in front of the queen. “She is aware of how grave things are,” Zireli said.

  He sighed. “Sire, the entire land is in unrest. Asykthians have been spotted in Luxlirien, Iteverians in Hetaera, and the Ematahri are flooding out of the woods.”

  “They would not be foolish enough to try me,” Zireli said.

  “Aye, they would. And they are.” Kiliv shifted on his feet. “An emissary arrived this morning. Seveirid’s successor—this Cadeif fellow—is claiming a blood price.”