Embrace the Fire Read online

  Embrace the Fire

  Tamara Shoemaker

  Contents

  Advance Praise

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Map of West Ashwynd

  Map of Lismaria

  Dark of Dusk and Magic

  Four Months after King Sebastian's Tournament...

  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

  Epilogue

  A Message from the Author

  Index

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Tamara Shoemaker

  Coming Soon

  Copyright

  Advance Praise

  “Cedric and Kinna’s journeys continue as Shoemaker’s impressive world-building brings dragons and pixies to life once again. In a time of fear and unrest in the kingdoms, our favorite characters from Kindle the Flame are thrown together in unlikely alliances or ripped apart on a ride that’s full of unexpected twists and romance. Once you pick it up, you won’t want to put it down.”

  — C.D. Gill, author, Behind Lead Doors

  “In this stunning continuation of her Heart of a Dragon trilogy, Shoemaker will keep you hooked from beginning to end. If you think you know where this book is going, you're wrong.”

  — Taryn Noelle Kloeden, author, The Fenearen Chronicles

  “Tamara Shoemaker is in her element writing epic fantasy, with a strong middle book that is bigger, bolder, and better than ever. In Embrace the Fire, the intensity builds to a fever pitch that will leave you begging for Book Three.”

  — Emily June Street, author, Tales of Blood & Light

  For Emily, a talented sculptor of word-art,

  without whom this book would still be a rough stone.

  Some say the world will end in fire,

  Some say in ice.

  From what I’ve tasted of desire

  I hold with those who favor fire.

  But if it had to perish twice,

  I think I know enough of hate

  To say that for destruction ice

  Is also great

  And would suffice.

  —Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

  Map of West Ashwynd

  Map of Lismaria

  Dark of Dusk and Magic

  Time lost its steady cadence in the caverns where the woman crouched next to a guttering candle. The art of the heavens remained unseen here; she could not trace the tracks of time across the sky. The only marking of a day's passage was the time it took for the daily candle to burn into nothingness, extinguishing at last with a silent puff of smoke, plunging her into deep blackness.

  And then she would sleep. When she woke, another candle would rest in the holder, another day would pass in the weak flicker of warmth. The tallow pooled around the candle's flame that cast shadows upon the cave walls where moisture dripped and moss crept. A quill shivered in her fingers, scratching across the creased parchment on the cavern floor.

  Hash marks covered the wall, one mark for every lifeless candle, a representation of the elusive time. Somewhere, out there, a king sought her son, who, with others, had fled The Crossings, West Ashwynd's capital city, after the Tournament. Death awaited him if he were caught, but a life on the run presented its own cage.

  The woman raised a hand to her mouth, blowing a warm breath over her chilled skin, and returned to her script. The words, she thought, might never escape the cave, but the relief from their release kept her cold fingers at their task.

  Dearest son,

  I hear the Dragons in my dreams, but even waking brings no end to their fury. It troubles me greatly.

  I hope you are well, and that you continue in the path set before you. My captors have yet to free me or to deliver messages; however, they allow me to scribble my thoughts onto parchment. I hope, someday, that you may receive this.

  The Amulet calls to me, even from its hiding place. At times, the urge to take it and use it overwhelms me, and it is then that I am glad for the safeguards I've placed around it. It is powerful, son, and evil at times, drawing upon the darkness of the Seer Fey who chose power over peace. The Amulet, carrying traces of the Fey who have left the path of the just, draws all darkness into itself.

  It is well that Sebastian no longer possesses it. The Amulet would ignite like dry grass beneath such a volatile temperament as his.

  No longer is the Amulet the pure gift of the Stars. No longer is its power clean and self-contained. Both it and our peace were shattered when the Seer Fey divided.

  The Amulet was meant for good, and some goodness remains within, but deep blackness tarnishes its power now. It has separated our people, my son, creating a rift that will never be healed. Those Fey who remain loyal to the tenets of our agreement with Aarkan are far fewer than those who deny them.

  The opposition refuse to listen to me; they vastly outnumber the ones who remain faithful to the Bond of Blood and Fire. They did not listen to me when I told them my discovery—that the Amulet does not break curses, only redirects them. Instead, they enclosed me in their prison, and I am a captive of their greed. Guilt pierces me, my son. As you know, I gave the Amulet to one in order to break his curse, but instead, I have unknowingly only redirected it.

  The greed of the Seer Fey Council holds sway at present, and I fear, the end of peace.

  Stay strong, my son. May we never stumble from the course the Stars have set before us.

  She set the quill on the stone floor and rubbed her aching knuckles. The tallow dipped lower in the holder, hardly illuminating the parchment, though the glow of her pink hair shivered in the flickering light.

  She picked up the quill once more and signed her name with a flourish.

  Lovingly,

  Helga

  Four Months after King Sebastian's Tournament...

  Chapter One

  Kinna

  Kinna was tired of fleeing the King's men. For four long months, they had shadowed her footsteps. Weariness dogged her days as she cowered in caves and woods. Exhaustion darkened her nights as she fled over mountains and along rivers.

  Now, dusk hung the sky with a purple velvet cape, and before long, the army campfires would dance along the sand dunes of the Islands of the Three Maids. Kinna crept closer to the hill's summit, straining to see through the dim light. King Sebastian’s soldiers milled through the main section of the camp, and on the outlying borders, the noises of various creatures thickened with the distant crash of surf on the shores. Flashes of flame from the Dragons and Phoenixes appeared south of the camp. To the north, a Direwolf sent up a long, lonely howl.

  So many creatures. So many weapons. So much restless, violent energy. War with Lismaria seemed more and more inevitable. East, in the Channel of Lise, Nicolas Erlane’s naval fleet circled, black ships on a dark horizon, vultures waiting for a doomed carcass. Kinna knew the diplomats still frantically sought a peace agreement between King Sebastian’s West Ashwynd and Erlane’s Lismaria, but that hope faded by the day.

  She shivered. “Where are you, Linc?” she whispered, searching the camp for any signs of her Pixie friend. Her Dragon’s thoughts interrupted her worry as he m
ade use of the psuche mind connection they shared: Chennuh smelled Linc’s Pixie scent and grunted in protest. The two had never learned to love each other, though they had reached a tolerable truce. Chennuh wouldn't eat the Pixie, although he occasionally still singed the ground at Lincoln's feet, and Lincoln had stopped singing the Dragon into involuntary sleep.

  Kinna strained to see down the hill, searching for Linc's familiar gangly form, and nearly leaped from her skin when a hand touched her shoulder.

  “Sorry,” Lincoln whispered. He pushed his bright orange hair out of his eyes.

  “Did you find Julian?” Concern laced Kinna’s voice when she spoke of her former best friend and current (undesired) fiancé. Kinna touched Chennuh's neck, taking comfort in the heat of the scales as the Dragon’s warmth seeped through her skin.

  There was no trace of Lincoln's normal easy grin. “Aye.”

  “And?” Worry bit into Kinna's stomach. She felt Chennuh's uneasiness rise in reaction to her own emotions.

  “There's a heavy guard. Sebastian must suspect you'll be coming to see your fiancé.” Unease reflected in Lincoln's moonlit face, and Kinna traced her fingers thoughtfully over Chennuh's scales.

  “Where is Julian now?”

  “He's in the Council tent with some of the other creature leaders. Neither Commander Lanier nor Commander Jerrus are present, but Officer Gendry headed the meeting with Deputy Officers Pondre and Bayne. They're planning to march the entire West Ashwynd Army to the Forgotten Plains tomorrow. They've been discussing it since Nicholas Erlane's fleets began patrolling the Channel, but it looks like it’s really happening. The other army bases are already moving their squadrons.”

  “So the war is finally here,” Kinna whispered. Fear fingered her mind. She thought of Julian at the head of the Pixies, working with his psuche partner, Sage, to weave Pixie charms over the enemy.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Kinna?” Lincoln's voice pulled her attention back to him. “This could get pretty dicey.”

  “You mean entering the camp? I have to. It’s the only way I can find out what happened to Cedric—”

  “We know Cedric isn't here,” Linc cut her off. “Is it really worth it to you to use Julian and expose yourself to more danger?”

  Kinna snagged her lower lip between her teeth. She didn't need to consider her answer, but she wanted to put the best words to her feelings. “We'll never be out of danger, Linc, not so long as Sebastian sits on the throne. It's been four months since we fled his Tournament, and not once have we slept in peace. His hunters, his spies, his creatures—they’re a constant danger. Is now really so different?”

  Lincoln glanced at the army base lit with a thousand campfires in the dark night. “Well, posters with our likenesses on them decorate every other notice board in that camp. It’s not like we’re inconspicuous here.” He tugged a lock of Kinna’s long, flame-colored hair.

  Kinna eyed him. “What's really bothering you, Linc?”

  “Nothing, m'lady. Shall we go? Your dearly beloved awaits. Even if he doesn't know you're coming.”

  “Julian's not my dearly beloved,” Kinna growled. “Sebastian betrothed us; I had no say in the matter. If Sebastian didn’t hold my father prisoner, I’d call the marriage off this instant.” Kinna scowled to hide the real terror that thinking of her father, Tristan—wasting away in a dungeon in The Crossings—incited. The charges brought against him had been “treasonous espionage,” but Joanna, Kinna’s mother, had shown her the letter Julian had given her that contained Sebastian's threat: Tell Kinna this: you'll keep your betrothal, darling niece, or I'll see your father's head on a pike and hung from The Crossings's battlements.

  “Alas for Julian.” Lincoln started to pace down the hill toward the camp, but stopped abruptly when Kinna scrambled up on Chennuh's back.

  “Where are you going?” Lincoln asked, surprised.

  “To find Sage,” she said, referring to the Pixie Julian had achieved psuche with the previous year.

  Lincoln raised an eyebrow. “Sage hates you. She's insanely jealous.”

  “Thanks.” Kinna rolled her eyes. “I'm pretty sure I knew that, but it also makes the most sense to use Sage to reach Julian. Julian's in the leader tents; there's no way we'd be able to get to him without being sighted. But if we can get to Sage, even if she doesn't mean to, her recognition of me will register in Julian's mind, and he'll know we're here. She's connected by psuche to Julian's thoughts. He'll find a way to slip out to meet us.”

  Lincoln grinned sheepishly. “That's actually rather brilliant of you, Kinna.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Don't let it go to your head.” He backed up a step. “Okay, well, I'll make myself comfortable here until you get back. Try not to make too much racket. I get tired of rescuing you all the time.”

  Kinna rolled her eyes. “Get up here, Linc. You know I couldn't do this without you.”

  Lincoln dodged Chennuh's sharp end and clambered up his haunch onto his back, singing:

  “I'll sing my Pixie songs for you

  To do the things you need to do.

  All around will go to sleep,

  And shouldn't even make a peep.”

  Kinna muttered, “I hope for your sake, they do.”

  “Do what?”

  “Go to sleep so they don't have to listen to you sing.”

  “I have a beautiful voice.”

  “Sure, but keep it quiet, okay?” Chennuh's mirrored wings arched around them, and their reflections in the thousands of scales looked small on the Dragon's broad back. “Your beautiful voice will get us captured if you use it too loudly.” Kinna gripped one of Chennuh's fins as she glanced over her shoulder at Lincoln behind her, exuding the nervous tension that always coated him when on the Dragon's back.

  “I'm quiet,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  Kinna smiled and trailed her fingers across Chennuh's warm neck as they coasted, nearly invisible, through the night sky. Because of psuche, the Dragon’s thoughts trailed through her head, impressions and images, an ongoing parade. At the forefront of all the images, she saw herself, the flame-haired girl who was birthed in fire.

  * * *

  The roar of the surf intensified as Chennuh circled the moonlit beach. The cacophony of the army creatures over the rocky cliffs was louder, too. As Chennuh's feet thudded into the sand, Lincoln had to shout.

  “Pixies are up that way.” He pointed to the cliffs about half a fieldspan from them.

  “How do you know?” Kinna strained for signs of the telltale brilliant hair colors of Pixies along the ridge.

  “I can hear them singing.”

  Sure enough, when Kinna held her breath, the soft melody of a thousand voices swept across the beach, harmonizing with the thunder of the waves. Homesickness rose up so thickly that it choked her. “Are they using their Pixie songs to create magic?”

  “Of a sort.” Lincoln's feet hit the sand, and he scrambled away from the Dragon. “They miss their homes and their families, too, and so they sing to comfort each other. They're not singing for release from Sebastian's armies, if that's what you were thinking.”

  Kinna shrugged. Chennuh snorted, and she patted his scales. “No, Chennuh, you can't come with me. You're too big for where we're going.”

  “It's up this way.” Lincoln started across the sand, and Kinna pulled Chennuh's head down, standing on her toes to reach the fin on top of his head. With her twist, he disappeared completely, effectively making use of the Mirage Dragons' best camouflage technique.

  “Just in case,” she murmured. Stay here and wait.

  Chennuh snorted. A moment later, a loud whoomp indented the sand in front of her.

  Kinna smiled. “Good, Chennuh. I'll be back soon.” Lincoln was already halfway up the cliffs, swinging through the rocks with nimble quickness. Kinna followed the stone path he'd taken.

  She reached the top soon after Lincoln, but a stitch needled her side. She knelt in the grass beside
him, scanning the area. From where they crouched, the Pixie songs broke loudly over them. “It's that one,” she murmured. She pointed at the flag that graced the tent near the inner edge of the Pixie barracks. “Ready?” She settled her woolen cowl over her head.

  Lincoln's sharp glance pierced the guards who paced the camp perimeter a fieldspan to their left. More of them would be out of sight behind the Pixie tents. At his nod, Kinna sprinted toward the tents, clinging to her mantle. Lincoln stayed beside her.

  They slipped into the tent rows, sliding past Pixies lounging on their beds with fingers knit behind bright-colored heads, their gazes a thousand fieldspans past the canvas of the tent above them. Pity stirred in Kinna as she hurried past. Though the Pixies had entered the King's armies willingly, all the benefits and higher wages in the world didn't erase the longing for home.

  Lincoln bypassed Kinna and peered into the target tent. A moment later, he stepped back and motioned Kinna forward. Kinna pulled the tent flap and stepped inside.

  Sage's turquoise head was turned away from the door. She leaned over a scroll of parchment, a quill in her hand as she wrote on the yellowed material.

  “Sage.”

  Sage shot to her feet, and the inkpot spilled, staining the trampled grass. The Pixie stood trembling, the parchment hanging from limp fingers. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “I came to see Julian.”

  Sage's jaw tightened, and her eyes flamed the same color as her hair. “You're placing him in danger.”

  Kinna sighed. “No more than he's in currently as the head of the Third Pixie Division.”

  “If the King finds out—”

  “Kinna!” Julian stepped through the tent entryway. His dark eyes were huge. Once, twice, his hand reached for her before falling back to his side. “Sage, can you give us a moment, please?”