Flame's Embrace

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Flame's Embrace Page 16

by Pillar, Amanda


  My hair whipped around my face and I swept it aside, turning my ear towards the forest. Silence. I stepped into the grass, feeling the damp earth on my bare feet, and slipped through the trees. I focused all my energy on remaining silent, using all of my skills to be unseen and unheard.

  Another breeze drifted through the forest and I caught another indistinct whisper. I followed the sound, gliding across the landscape, trying to keep another rising bout of sickness down. It didn’t take me long to find the source of the voices, and as I approached the figures, I dropped low into the tall grass.

  Prince Herbert was sitting on a sheet of fabric laid across a mound of rocks, still whittling away at the small hunk of wood with his blade. Scrod sat beside him, sharpening one of his daggers. They both were speaking quietly in hushed whispers.

  “Too true. I swore I could smell him, you know,” Scrod muttered, sliding a cloth along the edge of his glinting sword. “When we found the bitch by herself. She’s either a hopeless tracker, or…” He trailed off, inspecting the edge of the blade as he turned it side to side.

  “Or she’s lying to us,” Herbert finished, holding the piece of wood up and inspecting it. The figurine was beautifully crafted: a small replica of a man standing tall, one arm raised in the air. I squinted, trying to see through the mist, and realized the man was wearing a crown, with a tiny scepter in his clenched hand.

  “So what’s the plan when we get the fire fiend?”

  “Simple,” Herbert said, placing the figure in his lap, “Drop him in the courts. He’ll be executed, and I’ll become next in line as planned. Rumor has it that another fire fiend will be visiting my father soon enough, and I suppose I’ll have to step up and rule in his place.” His lips curled into a wicked smile.

  Scrod laughed, bringing his dagger close to his face, his eyes tracing its edge. “Are you sure they’ll convict him, though? Doesn’t seem like there’s enough evidence to pin it on him.”

  “Ah,” the prince said, raising a finger, “but there is.” He slipped his hand inside his cloak and pulled out something small and golden. He opened his hand. Three shimmering rings sat in his palm, each set with a different colored stone. They all flashed brilliantly in the pale midnight glow.

  “Your brother’s rings? But what’s that going to…” Scrod trailed off, then nodded eagerly, grinning.

  “Exactly,” Herbert said, grinning back, “When we bring back the fire fiend and hand him over the the jailer, he’ll be searched from head to toe. That’s when they’ll find the rings he stole, hidden in his pocket. We’ll all be mortified, of course. Stole the rings right off the Crown Prince’s fingers before he burnt him alive!”

  They both laughed, and I blinked slowly through my altered state, steadying myself so I didn’t fall over. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I had the presence of mind to know it was real.

  “Hang on,” Scrod said, putting the blade down. “Didn’t your brother have five rings? That was his whole thing, wasn’t it? Five royal rings, one for each of his territories?”

  “I wasn’t aware royal guards took such an interest in my family’s habits,” Herbert said, smirking, “But yes, you’re quite right. Two of them were so beautiful, though. I truly couldn’t let them go.”

  “But boss, if someone finds out you have them, you’ll be—”

  Herbert held up a hand. “Nobody will know, sire. I’ve got them hidden in a safe box in my quarters, and I have men guarding the rooms at all times. I’ll decide what to do with them once all of this blows over. For now, it’s enough for me to know that they’re mine.”

  “You royals are some greedy bastards, you know that?”

  Herbert laughed, picking up the figurine and staring at it, running his fingers over its sharp points of the wooden crown.

  My head was pounding, and I knew I needed to get away from there before I threw up again and got myself caught. I leaned back and felt the piercing sting of a sharp rock puncture my foot. I gasped at the sudden pain, and watched both men tense up. I ducked low, peering through the swaying blades of grass. Scrod stood, gripping his dagger as he turned around in circles, his dark eyes sweeping across the trees.

  My heart fluttered. They hadn’t spotted me. Yet, I thought miserably. I watched Scrod’s movements, tracking the slow pattern of his dark eyes as they flickered back and forth. When I was confident I had it down, I picked up a rock and hurled it high into the canopy above. It soared over the men and hit a tree on the other side with a dull crack. Both men spun around to the face the source of the sound, turning their backs to me. I took the opportunity, leaping out of the grass and gliding along the ragged terrain, keeping my body low and my footfalls light.

  I was back at camp in moments, and I slid into my bedroll. Doyle and Dale were still asleep, both snoring on either side of me in deep, drunken warbles. My hands curled tightly around the handle of my blade and I shut my eyes, pretending to sleep. By the time I heard Herbert and Scrod return to camp, the pounding in my chest had slowed, and I felt the familiar pull of slumber tugging at me. I didn’t even open my eyes as they passed by me.

  My last thoughts were how cold the air was, and wishing for the warmth of a better blanket, or maybe a roaring fire…

  But what I wanted most was Merrick.

  Chapter 6

  I woke with a start. An awful taste filled my mouth, and my vision was bleary. When I sat up, my stomach felt tight and strained. I looked around and started to panic.

  The camp was empty.

  The men were gone.

  It must have been almost noon, and nobody had woken me. A sense of dread fell over me, and I climbed out of my bedroll, scurrying to pack up my things before stumbling through the clearing. Following four sets of tracks wasn’t difficult for me to do.

  Voices drifted through the forest in the form of laughter, cheering, and an occasional mournful wail bouncing through the trees. I slipped my blade back into my waistband and took off, tearing across the landscape. I found the men standing in a small patch of dirt, looking down at the ground. Then I walked closer, and I felt something inside me break.

  Merrick was on the ground, his hands bound together by thick coils of rope. Blood streaked down his face and spattered the front of his clothes. Herbert and the other men surrounded him, taking turns kicking him between bouts of laughter.

  Herbert spotted me, and a vicious smile crept across his face. “I’m glad you were finally able to join us, Lyss.”

  My eyes were locked on Merrick. He rolled around on the ground, attempting to cover his midsection as Doyle stomped on his stomach.

  “Stop,” I said, my voice weak.

  Scrod turned to look at me. “Seems we didn’t even need you after all, hunter girl. He was lurking around the campsite. Basically begged us to catch him.”

  My heart sank. He was worried about me—that’s why he’d stayed near our camp. This was all my fault.

  “Stop it!” I pleaded again.

  “Hear that?” Scrod said loudly, turning to the others, who all looked at me. “The girl wants us to stop. I think she wants to take a turn.”

  Doyle stepped away from Merrick and gestured for me to take his place.

  I shook my head, my eyes welling with tears.

  Scrod stepped forward, unsheathing his glinting blade. “I think you misunderstand me, girl. Kick him, or I’ll cut away some of his flesh. I wonder which would hurt him more?”

  I looked down at Merrick. His golden eyes squinted up at me, silently pleading.

  “You wouldn’t,” I said, “The courts—”

  “The courts will understand,” Herbert said, a hint of boredom in his voice. “He fought back, there was a struggle. He killed our dear tracker, after all. Scorched her from head to toe.” His green eyes held my gaze, and he turned a flint and blade in his hands. “Poor girl. She never had a chance.”

  I was shaking now. I’d seen wild boars and a fire fiend, but the only monsters
out here were the ones I’d arrived with. I felt Scrod’s hand on my back, pushing me forward. I stumbled toward Merrick’s body. His face was turned up to me. He nodded. I could see the fear in his gaze. He closed his eyes

  I crouched down and leaned forward, placing a hand on his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  I slipped my hand into my waistband and gripped onto the blade with trembling fingers.

  In one swift movement I brought it forth and sliced through the bonds tying Merrick’s hands together.

  “Run!” I hissed at him.

  I spun around, standing at the ready with my blade. The men charged towards me all at once, moving like a meaty wall of flesh. There was no way I could take them all. Dale dropped low with a dagger in each hand as he shot across the dirt like a snake, trailing beside the giant Doyle, who swung his sword around furiously. Scrod ran forward, his blade held high over his head and his face twisted into an ugly sneer.

  I braced myself. At least I’d go on my feet, with a weapon in my hand. A fighter’s death.

  A searing blaze engulfed my vision, spiraling across the space between us. I became aware of Merrick at my side, his warmth washing over me as the flames filled my world.

  The screams of pigs and cowards echoed through the clearing. The blaze petered out, revealing Herbert’s three henchmen cowering in fear, their arms covering their faces. The flames hadn’t touched them.

  When I turned to Merrick, I could see Herbert’s green eyes glaring at me from behind him. Before I could react, he pressed his golden knife against Merrick’s throat. The prince glared at me with a horrific intensity as an evil grin stretched across his face.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Herbert warned as I began to lift my sword. “If you so much as lift a finger I’ll open his throat!” He leaned in to Merrick’s ear. “Same goes for you, you son of a whore.”

  I noticed a branch near their feet, sitting on a mound of dirt. I looked to Merrick and then back at the branch. He registered the expression, blinking slowly.

  “So here’s what we’re going to do,” Herbert said, his words tipped with venom.

  As he spoke, Merrick arched his brows and I gave a fraction of a nod. I watched a small flame travel across his fingertips, then leap across to the branch. It crackled, popping violently, and Herbert jumped at the sound.

  The prince loosened his grip on Merrick for a moment, and the fire fiend took the opportunity to shove Herbert’s hand away. The blade flew out of his grasp, landing in the dirt beside me. I stooped down to retrieve it just as Merrick sank one of his fists into Herbert’s face. I heard the distinct sound of a nose breaking, if not a cheekbone. He hit him so hard that the pompous prince fell backwards and into the dirt, clutching his face as he writhed in pain.

  I pivoted around to face the other men, who were cautiously making their way towards us, their weapons held out. All three of them seemed unsure of what to do. When I turned to look at Merrick I saw his hands stretched out, one pointing towards Herbert’s prone body, and the other facing out towards the men. Rings of fire began to form in each of his hands, coiling like rope…like a whip.

  “Do it!” I urged him. “Burn them all alive!”

  His yellow eyes flashed to me, then back to the men. “Drop your weapons and let us leave, or I’ll turn you all to ash.”

  They all faltered in their response as they weighed their options. Slowly, one by one, all of them tossed their weapons to the ground.

  “Traitorous little bitch,” Scrod spat, his dark eyes trained on me as I gathered their collection of various swords, bows, and daggers.

  Flames crackled along Merrick’s fingertips and the perpetually stony look on Scrod’s face softened, his eyes growing wide with fear.

  I ran to Merrick’s side, my eyes trailing over him. His clothes were torn, and bruises were starting to form over his ribs and chest. The blood on his face was already drying, and I noticed it had come from a split running along his lip. Even in that moment, I wanted to kiss it better.

  “Lyss? Are you alright?” His voice was soft, and hearing him say my name made me feel calm and safe. I smiled at the novelty. I felt calm. I felt safe. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but I recognized it immediately. I needed more of that in my life.

  “I’m alright now,” I said. He smiled back, then winced as his split lip cracked open again.

  “Let’s go,” he said, nodding back to the forest. “There’s nothing for us here.”

  “Hang on,” I said, looking back down at Herbert. He was whimpering in pain as he gingerly touched his bleeding nose. It was most definitely broken.

  I knelt down, staring into his ugly face. He looked up at me, his lipless mouth a hard gash across his face.

  “Poor boy. This must be hard for you,” I said, my words laced with mockery and venom.

  “I’ll have both your heads for this!” he spat, grimacing. He lunged out to grab me, then immediately backed off when he caught sight of the whirl of fire coming from Merrick’s hand. He cracked it like a whip, sending a lash of flames dangerously close to the terrified, sniveling prince.

  “I don’t think you’re in any position to make threats,” I said, shaking my head. “Oh, before I forget…” I brushed a stray hair out of his eyes, then slipped my hand into his coat, feeling around.

  His face was pure shock as I stood up and stepped away, holding the golden rings up to inspect them. They were encrusted with a myriad of jewels that sparkled in the light of Merrick’s fire.

  “You were right—your brother’s rings really are beautiful,” I said, slipping them into my pocket. I secured the weapons in my bedroll and my travel pack, keeping my short sword at my side and the bow slung over my shoulder. My back strained under the extra weight, but I didn’t care. Instead, I turned to Merrick. “Alright. Now I’m ready to go.”

  The prince and his hunting party shouted a multitude of obscenities and curses our way, yet they became mere background noise as we walked deeper and deeper into the forest. Once we’d put a safe amount of distance between ourselves and the men, we stopped long enough for him to cook a grouse I’d shot with the bow and arrow.

  “Why didn’t you torch those bastards when you had the chance?” I finally asked when we’d finished eating. “They were about to kill you.”

  Merrick shook his head.

  “If I did that, I’d be the very monster that they think I am.”

  A wave of heat swept over me and I smiled again, feeling drawn even closer to him. He slipped his hand into mine. It was warm, and a tingle ran through my entire body.

  I placed my other hand on his cheek, which had turned purple with a dark bruise. I ran my thumb across his split lip, and then kissed him softly. As I pulled away, I looked over his face. His eyes were still closed, and a peaceful expression touched his handsome features.

  “What are we going to do now?” Merrick asked.

  “Well, first I was thinking we should find the nearest village with a magistrate.”

  He raised a curious eyebrow. With a grin on my face, I pulled the three rings out of my pocket. They glimmered in my palm.

  “These are the dead prince’s rings. It’s solid evidence.”

  “Won’t it make us look guilty?” He frowned, his eyes full of confusion.

  “Not when I tell the magistrate that Prince Herbert has been hiding the evidence to his own trial in his quarters.”

  Merrick glanced from the rings back to me, a look of relief spreading across his face as he realized the importance of those three royal rings.

  “And then what?” he asked, and placed a hand on my knee. I could feel my body starting to melt in his presence.

  “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” I looked up at him, my lip quivering. Happiness was bubbling up within me, threatening to sweep me away. He leaned closer, brushing away my hair before giving me a taste of his fiery kiss. Even before our lips touched, I knew it would be hot a
nd delicious. I also knew Merrick wouldn’t burn me. When it came to him, I was fireproof.

  About Emigh

  Emigh Cannaday lives in Wisconsin with her musician/winemaker husband and a pack of Pembroke Welsh Corgis. She grew up drawing and painting but now uses words to illustrate her elaborate daydreams. When she’s not hoarding houseplants or collecting corgis, she spends her free time testing out new recipes on her friends & family.

  Find her online or subscribe to her newsletter at www.emighcannaday.com/mailinglist to get the latest author updates, access to book giveaways, and connect with other fans.

  Ashes and Smoke

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  James

  I slashed my knife across the demon’s throat and watched with no little amount of satisfaction as it fell to the ground at my feet. One. Two. Three. It vanished—gone from this dimension forever, sent back to the hell it should have stayed in. But he wasn’t alone. There were more, so many more, and I wasn’t sure we’d ever do anything really to rid ourselves of them. I straightened. Getting sour over the reality of demon fighting would get me nowhere.

  The Knights of St. Lazarus had been doing this since our founding, despite what history said. We liked our secrecy. It worked for us. Let them say we did this or we did that. We’d keep killing demons and keeping the world safe. The night sky blew up red, and I stopped to stare at the spectacle. It was a sight I knew well, and yet it never ceased to amaze me. Golden red, goddess red…my love’s red. Fire red. She was as miraculous as the demons were evil, and if the sky was that color, then she needed me.

  The explosion was in Varhegy—the oldest part of Budapest, and the place where both she and I believed we’d been born. Neither one of us were exactly sure where we hailed from. Orphans rarely knew for sure. But we both had destinies, and whatever happened in the beginning, I knew we’d end up together. Whatever fate looked like.

 

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