Fire Heart: A Dragon Fantasy Romance (The Dragon of Umbra Book 1)

by Emma Hamm

  Fire Heart

  Dragons of Umbra Book 1

  Emma Hamm

  Copyright © 2021 by Emma Hamm

  Cover by TrifBookDesigns

  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.

  For every little girl who was born a Fire Heart. Your difference is your power, and one day, you’ll see just how important that power is.

  One day at a time, my queen.

  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

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Lore

  The silhouette of the dragon blotted out the moon. Lorelei’s hair shifted in the breeze made by its wings.

  She took another heavy drag off the pipe in her hand and watched from the rooftops. If the sun were out, she might fear that the beast would see her. The dragon had little care for who it killed. Innocent or not, the beast would find anyone it could with its breath of fire.

  But the moonlight made it hard for the creature to see. It would drift back toward the Umbral Castle, over the countless shingled rooftops where people snuggled in the safety of their beds. Children would whisper at the shadow passing by their windows and pray the creature didn’t visit their nightmares.

  If they behaved, they would never really meet the dragon.

  One last buffet of wind pushed down on her shoulders, tangling her pale locks on the sharp points of her ears. Lore reached up to ensure her secret remained hidden. Even in the middle of the night, there were eyes that saw every detail. The last thing she needed was to end up like her mother.

  Her leather leggings stuck to her legs after a hard day of work. The billowing white peasant’s shirt helped cool her down, though soon it would be too cold. Tapping her boots on the clay shingles, Lore watched as a small shard slipped free and tumbled down to the street below. The shattering sound was the only one at this time of night. No person in their right mind risked being out at night.

  “You’re crazy, you know that?” The voice flirted with the shadows, emerging from a window across the street.

  Lore blew a few smoke rings at the dwarf, who hid in the attic of the house across from her. She could barely see his features this far away, with no light to illuminate his expression. Not that she needed the help.

  When she first came to this horrible city, he’d been the first person to greet her. A dwarf about the height of her waist, with a smattering of red throughout his beard and wild hair that tangled in his eyebrows. He was a walking hairball, as she affectionately called him. And if that didn’t call enough attention to his presence, then people would always stare at the man who preferred bright colored clothing.

  Goliath, the name aptly humorous, had dogged her steps for weeks now. Always it was the same question. She always gave the same answer.

  “I don’t know why I can’t be on my own roof at night,” she replied. Lore blew another smoke ring that floated inside the other. “The dragon doesn’t care if I want to absorb a little moonlight.”

  “But the Umbral Knights do.” He shivered at the thought of those terrible creatures at the King’s beck and call.

  The City of Tenebrous was far from the Umbral Castle. The personal knights of the King kept everyone here under the King’s thumb, though they weren’t actual people. Tin soldiers with nothing inside them but a teeming mass of shadows that followed the whims of the King.

  Lore knew the icy touch of those knights. First hand experience, and all that.

  Suddenly her elfweed wasn’t hitting the right way anymore.

  Disappointed, she put her pipe down on the shingles and leaned back on her hands. “Well, if that’s the way I go, then that’s the way I go.”

  “You know, you could join me and the others.”

  “The others and I,” she corrected. Her training whispered in her mind that she was giving too much away. She should be like the others in Tenebrous. No schooling, no book learning to speak of, but talented when it came to keeping herself alive on the streets.

  “Right.” Goliath leaned out his window so she could see his face. “We’ve got a better way to go about it all, you know. We want to see the King dead but we don’t want to lose anyone else in the process.”

  We. It was always we with him. “You’re talking about a war.”

  “We’re talking about a rebellion. A rising against the tyrant and taking our kingdom back.” He thumped his fist against the window frame. “Considering all that your mother gave up, I thought you’d be more interested in helping.”

  Anger flared bright and hot in her chest. “Don’t talk about my mother.”

  “And your father?”

  Still working with the rebellion, she’d imagine. Or perhaps he’d gone back to the country they came from. Those elven lands where so many had given up their lives just so they could keep the Umbral King from their borders.

  Too many people had given up everything they held dear so their descendents could cling to normalcy. So many deaths. And here she was, in the poorest city, trying to make ends meet by growing and selling elfweed in her basement.

  They’d really given up their lives for a winner, obviously. Just look at her. Hiding her ears like she was ashamed of being an elf. Wearing scratchy wool clothing because the mist in Tenebrous never cleared to show the sun.

  Lore shook her head. “I have no interest in making the same mistakes as my family, Goliath. I know my place.”

  “And that’s at the bottom of the food chain, begging for scraps?” He spat, the wad of liquid hurtling down to the street four stories below them. “You are an elf. You hold all the magic of the moon at your fingertips and you want me to believe that the humans are stronger than us? I refuse.”

  “It’s not about power or strength, it’s about numbers.” And there were too many of them. She had once thought her mother was right, all those years ago. She’d thought the rebellion could actually do something about this horrible life they all led. Once upon a time.

  Then Lorelei grew up. She’d seen the world for herself and realized that while her mother had heart, she was nothing but a dreamer. Dreams didn’t put food on the table, and they sure didn’t raise a daughter after one’s death.

  Goliath sighed. “You don’t want to even listen to what I have to say?”

  “Not really.” She already knew what he was going to say.

  The rebellion always claimed the same things. The King wasn’t an immortal, and he wasn�
�t even magical. If they banded together, put their magic together, then they stood a chance.

  What they forgot was that there was an army filled with soldier’s the King could infinitely create. An army of creatures that weren’t human underneath all that steel and iron. Not to mention there was a giant dragon that flew above the city every single day, reminding them all who controlled the kingdom.

  She might be an elf. And yes, there might be a little moon magic left inside her. But that didn’t mean she was equipped to battle a damn dragon. There was a reason those creatures used to have their own kingdom.

  “Your mother wouldn’t want you to sit on the sidelines,” Goliath said. The wind brushed through the tangled red locks of his hair. “She would want you to fight, just like she did. She’d want you to prove yourself to be the daughter she raised.”

  “She’d want me to give my life for a cause that sees me as a pawn, not a person. That’s what she would want.” Lore didn’t like to think of her mother, though.

  Frantically, she grabbed at the elfweed and inhaled the smoke that should clear her mind from the memories that threatened to swallow her up. But she wasn’t fast enough. She was never fast enough to battle back the memory of her mother’s death.

  She remembered the pyre the Umbral Knights had built. Larger than a building, they strapped all the offending rebellion leaders to large logs and laid them around the bonfire as if they were nothing more than kindling. She remembered her mother’s eyes, wide with fear, as she screamed for Lorelei to run.

  A Knight held Lore’s shoulder with a grip that she couldn’t wiggle out of. The steel bit into her shoulders until she felt blood run down her chest. She’d cried, but of course she had. She was only eight.

  And then the dragon. She remembered the damned beast that roared and made the very air shake with its hunger.

  The dragon had landed on the ground so hard that she swore he made the earth wobble with his weight. He was larger than three buildings, too big for her little mind to fathom. He’d looked at her, his eye almost as large as a horse. She would never forget the membrane that slicked over the yellow orb of his eye before he turned his attention to her mother.

  Heat literally glowed through the barrel of the dragon’s chest. He had reared back and Lore watched as fire burned up his throat all the way to his mouth. It tore through his neck and the dragon let it all out in one massive eruption.

  The flames had devoured her mother too quickly. One moment, the beautiful elf had glared defiantly at the creature who was her doom. And the next, her mother was nothing more than ash. Her body had mixed with that of the bonfire and the wood behind her. Nothing remained for Lore to collect.

  A memory like that couldn’t float away on the smoke of elfweed.

  She let the vapor trail from her lips to her nostrils. Perhaps the haunted memories showed in her expression, or maybe Goliath could see the thoughts in her eyes. Either way, when she looked back at the dwarf, all his anger had leaked out of him. A crack in the armor.

  “Lore,” he said, quiet this time. So quiet she could barely hear his words. “You can’t give up like this.”

  “I’m not giving up. I’m living my life.” She refilled her lungs with the smog of the city rather than the elfweed, though. “I don’t want to die like she did, Goliath. And if that means I have to keep my head down and pretend the past doesn’t exist, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “All I’m asking for is an afternoon of your time.” He braced his forearm on the windowsill and his beard split in half to reveal a bright grin. “There’s free food and drink for you if you come.”

  No. She wouldn’t be tempted by a full belly, no matter how bad her entire body clenched at the thought. When was the last time she’d stuffed herself?

  Too long. Food was scarce in Tenebrous during a good year, considering most of the farmers outside of the city were entrenched in the swamp. It wasn’t like Lore had a lot of money. She did what she could for people who were willing to pay for forbidden charms. Most of the time, her money came from odd jobs here and there.

  But a full belly...

  “Ah,” Goliath said, pointing at her with a stubby finger. “You’re thinking about it! I can tell.”

  “I will not meet with your people and shout ‘Let the sun rise’.” She sighed, remembering the words that had filled her little head with so many happy dreams. Her mother had promised the phrase would bring about a new age. That Lore would see a new sun on the horizon and that would be the day when she knew the magical creatures were free.

  She shook her head. That was the worst kind of gift her mother had given her. Hope. Hope for a time that would never come to pass.

  Goliath shrugged. “I don’t care if you shout it. I just care that you believe it. Come and see all of us, Lore. We miss you.”

  The word ‘no’ pressed against her teeth, but at that moment, the dragon wheeled back around. She saw his wings shift and move. He glided through the air, so far away that his movements were silent. But apparently the beast wanted the entire city of Tenebrous to remember he’d be back in the morning.

  A long, drawn out roar clapped like thunder in the distance. It rolled through the air, slamming windows shut and blasting over Lore with such force that the sound snuffed out the faint glow at the end of her pipe.

  That sound. It haunted her dreams and every waking moment. The beast knew he held them all underneath his claws, but still he tormented them.

  Somewhere down the street, a child started crying. Lore heard the poor thing’s mother hush at it, trying so hard to not let the Umbral Knights think they were disturbing the peace. A child like that shouldn’t fear a monster that flew over its city every night. Children feared imagined monsters underneath the bed that their fathers could battle. Not actual beasts that could kill them.

  Or had killed some of their family while the children watched.

  Another tap came from across the street. Goliath pointed toward the sound when she looked at him. “You won’t come and meet with us just in hopes we might get rid of that thing?”

  Lore reached into her pocket for a match. “You and the rebellion have really lost your mind if you think you can kill a dragon.”

  “Maybe we have.” Goliath nodded, then grinned brightly in the shadows. “But you still want to hear what we have to say.”

  She lit the match, and the flare illuminated her small hideaway on the roof. Lore took her time setting the elfweed ablaze once more, even puffing at the pipe until the smoke surrounded her like a cloud. “Maybe,” she replied. “Promising revenge on the scaly bastard certainly has its appeal.”

  “So we’ll see you tomorrow night, then?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up.” She blew a ring of smoke out of her screen of white cloud. The ring danced through the air and struck Goliath square in the face. “Sleep well, little man.”

  “Good night, Lorelei.”

  He shut the window with a solid thud, and that was when Lore saw the painting. A bright yellow sun rising through a bank of clouds, the sunset red as blood.

  She snorted. The dwarf had better run if he left that painting on the window. The Umbral Knights would take one look at it and ransack the entire place, thinking they’d found a rebellion leader.

  Goliath was smart, though. He hadn’t survived this long without having a few tricks up his sleeve. He’d run off into the shadows and give the Knights something to do while he and his people plotted.

  Schemed.

  She blew another ring of smoke into the air. But for the first time in a long time, she couldn’t get the image of the sun out of her head.

  “Let the sun rise,” she muttered.

  Chapter 2

  Abraxas

  The carriage swayed from side to side until it almost felt like he was at sea. He hated being at sea.

  Gaze slanting to the right, he tried to focus on the mountains moving past the carriage, but that didn’t help. He couldn’t focus on anything othe
r than the rolling of his stomach. Was that his breakfast pressing against the back of his throat? Had he eaten something poisonous, and it was just now coming to light?

  “Abraxas?”

  Yes, that was his name, but he didn’t have the energy to listen to anyone right now. What had he done last night? He couldn’t quite remember, and maybe that was the alcohol. He had gotten drunker than he’d thought he could. That was definitely part of the problem right now.

  “Abraxas!” The voice whipped through the air, cracking against his skull until he moaned.

  “What?” he asked. “What is it now?”

  “You’re supposed to be listening to me. Are you incapable of doing your job today, or are you going to pay attention to your king?”

  Right. The King. The duty. All that ridiculous nonsense that he’d drowned in for years.

  Abraxas rolled his head on the plush cushion and focused on the interior of the carriage. The entire inside was drenched in gold, just like the outside. He knew for a fact that the carriage itself was not dipped in metal, nor was it made of the precious ore. He’d broken one and seen the wooden frame within. But the villagers outside would think their king rode past in a solid gold carriage. And their opinion of the King’s wealth was what mattered.

  The brightly colored cushions made his head ache. The color was too much, really. And the tiny chandelier hanging right above their heads? If Abraxas straightened in his seat, he’d get bonked in the eye with a small crystal every time the carriage shifted.