Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1) (30 page)

Cedric nodded and turned, striding across the long throne room to the doors, and disappeared.

Sebastian sat alone once again on his throne, willing his anger into strength. He had made up his mind as soon as he had seen Cedric's success with Dragons that despite the boy's royal heritage, he would lead Sebastian's armies. Cedric wielded a vast amount of power with the beasts, and no matter Sebastian’s own personal vendetta, the boy would be an asset to his armies like no other. If Cedric’s sister proved to hold the same gifts as her brother, he would raise them to the top ranks with his generals. If neither was able to best the formidable force of four Poison-Quills, then they lacked the gifts he needed, and good riddance to them both.

“
M
y lady
.” Sebastian's deep voice caused Lianna to start violently.

They stood on the terrace outside the palace. Lianna leaned against the railing, gazing over the Tournament fields. As Sebastian startled her, she whirled, her hands up in a defensive posture, her breath quick and shallow.

“I did not mean to startle you, my lady.”

After a moment, she regained control of herself. She straightened and turned back to the railing, her hands now tightly gripping the white marble. She made no answer.

“Did you enjoy the morning competitions?” Sebastian asked as he moved close beside her, his back to the railing and the fields, his arms crossed as he watched her profile.

“As much as it is possible to enjoy them when one is a prisoner in the King's castle, Your Grace,” she said through tight lips.

Sebastian's throat issued a rusty chuckle. “Have you been to the dungeons, Lady Lianna?”

At the incremental shake of her head, he nodded. “Trust me when I say that you are no prisoner.”

Ice edged her gaze. “You clip a bird's wings, Your Grace, to keep it from the skies. It may not be surrounded by the bars of a cage, but it has lost its ability to fly.”

Sebastian inclined his head. “Aye, my lady, you speak the truth. But I do not clip
your
wings. I merely protect you from the fowler's snare.”

“How so, Your Grace?” If anything, her blue gaze had grown even frostier.

“You wish to return to your uncle. I prepare to make war upon Lismaria, and when I am finished, there will be nothing in your country but desolate waste and feasting carrion. Only those under my rule will remain safe and prosperous.”

Lianna stared at him for a long moment. Her lips parted, and words left her mouth, though her jaw didn't move. “You are despicable, Sebastian.”

For a solitary moment, Olivia's face glared from Lianna's features, burning him, judging him as she had on that final night of their son's birth. He'd closed a door that night, sealed away the spark of goodness he'd possessed up until then, and allowed darkness to overtake his soul.

When Olivia and his son had died, the spark had died with them.

Sebastian pulled his lips into a brittle smile. “There are many and varying opinions on that subject, my lady. I am glad to know yours.” He pushed away from the railing and then turned. She faced away from him, her spine rigid and stiff.

“I wish you to accompany me to the evening competition on the fields, my lady. I promise you a show that will be worth watching.”

She still refused to look at him. “I have no wish to go, Your Grace.”

Sebastian caged her between his arms, gripping the railing next to her lily white hands. He bent his head and kissed the back of her neck. “Aye, but you have no choice, Lianna.” His words breathed over the wisps of hair that had escaped her plaits. He turned and exited the terrace, his teeth clamped together.

K
inna listened
to the shuffling rock-step of the jailer as he turned the corner of the hallway, drawing near her cell. He carried a clinking set of keys.

Would they be released before an entire day had passed? “Linc,” she whispered. “Here's your chance to use your Pixie magic.”

Lincoln approached his cell door, grasping the bars as the jailer shuffled down the hallway. “I don't think I'll need to, Kinna.”

Kinna glanced back at the man, surprised to see him inserting the key into the hole, turning the lock with a rusty creak. “Did the King have a change of heart?” she asked.

The man didn't answer. As soon as he released her cell door, he moved to Lincoln's, and unlocked that one, too.

“Follow me,” he grunted, his voice gravelly.

Kinna and Lincoln moved down the hallway after the hunchbacked man. Pity stirred in Kinna's heart for the poor souls who wasted away in the other cells of the dungeons. Their moans and mutterings trailed behind her as she followed the jailer. Kinna breathed a fervent thanks to whichever good Star had kept her and Lincoln free from such a fate.

“Do you think Ayden had anything to do with getting us out?” Lincoln asked in an undertone.

“I don't even know that we're out yet, Lincoln. He could just be taking us before the King for more questioning.”

“Aye, there is that.”

They reached the staircase, and the jailer stood back while a palace guard motioned to them. “Follow me.” He led the way up the long spiral staircase.

Tension tightened Kinna's stomach. Something felt off, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

When they reached the top, the guard turned down a long hallway that opened out onto the terrace at the back of the palace.

At the far end of the terrace stood a familiar figure.

“Julian!” Kinna broke into a run and threw herself at him, her arms strangling his neck. “Julian, I'm so glad to see you!”

He held her tightly and rested his chin on the top of her head. After a moment, he set her back, his dark eyes shaded with worry. “Are you all right, Kinna? I've thought about nothing but you all winter long, and then to find out you were in the King's dungeons—”

“Yes, I know. It wasn't exactly the outcome for which we had hoped.” She glanced back at Lincoln, who stood behind them, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the Tournament field, obviously trying not to be a part of the conversation.

“Julian, this is Lincoln. He—he's been with me all winter in the Ridges of Rue, and we've been—training a Mirage for the Tournament, along with Ayden, who actually
is
from the Dragon Clan. I mean, he's going by Rickard here, because, well, never mind, but...” She stopped rambling as she saw his eyes widen with each new piece of information.

“You were in the Rue Ridges? In
winter
?” His gaze moved over her as if checking for frostbite or missing limbs. “Kinna, the Ridges are brutal in the winter.”

“Aye, but we had a Dragon. So we were warm. It wasn't bad, Julian. Merely ... different.”

She read disbelief in his eyes.

“Kinna.”

She turned. Ayden stood at the head of the stairs, two palace guards on either side of him.

Tension pinched the air of the terrace. Julian's fingers wrapped into fists. Ayden's eyes glowed a burnished silver, his gaze flinty as he stared at her friend behind her. A nervous lump twisted in her stomach.

“Ay—Rickard, I believe you've met...” She trailed off into silence at Ayden's abrupt nod.

“Aye, I've already had the pleasure.”

Julian's gaze knifed through the air at Ayden. “Likewise.”

Kinna glanced between them, not comprehending their animosity.

Lincoln's short verse made Kinna wish herself in Chennuh's den, where she could hide against the neck of the Dragon, where she wouldn't hurt anyone else, where she could forget, for a while, the feelings that crowded her heart.

Julian was her childhood playmate, her best friend, her confidant, her familiar presence. Ayden had come out of the dark shadows of the Dragon world, shown her ways to connect with creatures that didn't enslave them, saved her life time and time again, gazed through her with those silver eyes of his, understood her better than she understood herself sometimes. She cared for them both.

Footsteps interrupted her thoughts. King Sebastian strode toward them from the side terrace.

“Ah, what a happy gathering,” he said, spreading his arms, a white-toothed smile creasing his face. “I had hoped to see all of you together.”

None of them spoke. If anything, the tension expanded. Sebastian broke the uneasy quiet. “Rickard, I believe.” He nodded at Ayden. “I hear that you bring a Mirage to the Tournament.”

Ayden’s gloves wrapped into fists. “Aye, Your Grace. We hope to be written in.”

“Aye, and so you have been. Your Mirage fights tonight, but you will not be a part of the Tournament. I have decided that the maiden will fight with the Dragon.”

Ayden's eyes widened as he shot a glance at Kinna. He turned back to Sebastian. “No.”

Kinna glanced at Julian in her shock. His face and lips had turned sheet-white.

“I beg your pardon?” The King's brows rose on his forehead.

“I mean, no, Your Grace. It's too dangerous.”

“Aye, it will be.” Sebastian nodded. “I intend tonight's competition to be high stakes. You'll discover more about it this evening.”

“Even more reason for me to go into the arena rather than Kinna—”

“Rickard,” Kinna's quiet voice interrupted him. “I can do it.”

“I have no doubt, Kinna, but—”

“It is not really an option,” Sebastian broke in. “I've decided Kinna will be in the competition tonight, and so she will be. I have other plans for you, Master Rickard.” He turned to Julian. “Have you told your betrothed the good news?” He laughed lightly and shook his head. “That is, if she wins the match tonight?”

Utter stillness cloaked the terrace. Shock ripped up Kinna's spine. She jerked her gaze to Julian, who flushed a deep red.

“Betrothed?” The word hung in the silence. Kinna searched Julian's face for answers.

Julian gave a minuscule nod. “Aye,” he whispered.

“To whom?” Kinna asked, knowing the answer already, but refusing to believe it.

Julian raised his gaze from the flagged stones to meet hers. “It was the only way he would consent to release you.”

Disbelief framed Kinna's thoughts. She turned to the King, shock and anger slowing her motion. “Your Grace—”

“All in all,” the King interrupted, “I am rather pleased with this meeting. You have the afternoon to yourselves. I will see you this evening after the competition feast.” His dark gaze traveled over them all. “I should hate to see anyone try to leave. Please know that death would be the penalty.”

He turned and, in the company of four of his guards, hurried down the terrace steps toward the fields.

Kinna faced Julian, unsure of what to say next. He shifted uncomfortably. “I can't say I'm sorry, Kinna. You know my feelings.” His voice was quiet and clear. He shrugged, a bitter smile twisting his face. “But you'll be spared for a short time at least. His Majesty has decreed that I shall spend a year in his armies before I can come home and make you my bride.”

He turned away and hurried down the steps. Sage appeared out of nowhere, joining him on the path below.

Kinna gaped after him before facing Ayden and Lincoln.

Lincoln suddenly found the sky fascinating. “I think, perhaps...” he edged backward “…I should go check ... with ... someone … about something.” He crossed the balcony to the terrace, leaving Kinna was alone with Ayden.

Kinna slanted her gaze to his, and he slowly advanced, his silver eyes shuttered.

“Ayden...”

“What is it you want, Kinna? Truly. Tell me.” He balled his gloves into fists and crossed them tightly over his chest.

Kinna berated herself for the tears that formed in her eyes. She blinked them away. “What I want doesn't matter.”

“Doesn't it?” Dark thoughts chased each other across Ayden’s face.

“Sebastian has commanded it. What am I to do? It is death otherwise.”

“We could fight it.”

“We'd only succeed in getting ourselves killed.”

Anger flared in his eyes. “Kinna, what is the matter with you? Since when did you decide to lie down and let someone walk all over you?”

“Ayden, I'm not—”

“If you let this ridiculous scheme happen, you are. If you allow yourself to be wedded to a man you don't love—” He paused, his jaw clenching. He moved a step closer. “Or am I wrong? Maybe you do love him, and you just can't admit it.”

“Ayden, I—it's so much more complicated than that. I—I love him, but not...” Kinna's tongue felt tied in knots. Her mind was still sluggish from shock.

Ayden's silver eyes regarded her gravely. “I see.” He backed up a step, and Kinna shook her head.

“Ayden—”

“Good luck tonight.” He turned for the stairs, tossing the words over his shoulder. “Don't know if I'll see you afterward. I'll try to send you a wedding present.”

Kinna watched him hit the path and stride away.
Fool that I am
.

She walked to the railing, folding her arms across her chest, warming herself against the sudden chills that ravaged her body.

Julian's sudden reappearance and willing sacrifice appealed to her. Strongly.

But Ayden's silver eyes and damaged past did as well. His skill and independence, his strength of will and self-control all drew Kinna inexorably toward him, like a dark whirlpool that wrenched her into the center of its current.

It didn't appear that she had any choice in the matter anyway. Julian was her husband-to-be by royal decree.

Kinna shook her head to clear it. Another royal decree had just ordered her onto a field of Dragons. She shoved aside all thoughts of Julian and Ayden. She needed to concentrate on the task ahead.

K
inna entered the tunnel
, her footfalls silent on the stone floor, her eyes wide in the dim light. The Dragons moved restlessly in their dens. The deep, shuddering snort of a Poison-Quill sounded from the den she'd just passed, followed by a burst of flame that shot into the hallway.

Kinna leaped forward, startled, and then hurried by. At the entrance to every den, she peered under the opening. Every door was lifted to waist-height, and the smell of Dragon dung was strong. She passed two Nine-Tails and paused at an entrance that gleamed with light from the inside.

When she leaned down, she saw a pair of legs in boots that laced to the knees. She followed the line of sight to the head and found Cedric standing before a massive Dragon whose scales burned with scalding heat.

Cedric rested his hand against the Dragon's snout, holding it for long seconds before removing his touch and then replacing his hand again and again.

Kinna crouched in the opening. “What are you doing?”

Cedric jumped, and the Dragon roared, his neck whipping up and fire spurting at the place where Kinna had been only a second ago.

The Ember sucked in air for another go, but Cedric leaped into the doorway. “
Stop
, Ember!” A moment later, he rolled beneath the door, grabbing Kinna and pulling her farther along the hallway.

Both of them were breathing hard.

“How were you able to move that fast?”

Kinna shrugged. “Terror?”

“Right.” Cedric lowered his voice. “Kinna, tonight, you need to be prepared. The King has ordered a match to the death.”

Kinna stared at Cedric. “What?” Her stomach plummeted.

“Aye, it will be the last match in the Tournament. All the other brackets are off. Sebastian went into a fine fury this morning and has ordered a match for Ember and your Mirage against four of the King's best Poison-Quills. And we'll fight until one side or the other wins. The deaths will include both Dragons and Dimn.”

“No.” Kinna shook her head, her eyes wide as she stared at Cedric. “No, he can't. He plans to kill Chennuh?” Panic threaded her voice.

“Chennuh is the Mirage?”

Kinna nodded, terror pulsing through her throat. “Why doesn't he just order it done? Why put us through the spectacle?”

“Because that's who he is, Kinna. He's a blood-thirsty tyrant who likely has his reasons, but they are not the reasons of an honest man.” Silence fell, broken by Ember's grumpy growl. Cedric's hazel eyes were flat. “The King means to kill us both, I am sure of it.”

Kinna stared miserably at Cedric as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Have you achieved
psuche
with your Mirage yet?”

Kinna shook her head. “I—I can't. I'm a Pixiedimn.”

Both of them jumped as footsteps resounded in the hall. Far down the corridor, a guard made his way toward them through the glint of torchlight.

Cedric turned back to Kinna. “Don't believe everything you've ever been told, Kinna. You must try it.”

“Try what?”

“
Psuche
. Before the match tonight.” Cedric glanced back at the rapidly nearing guard.

“Do you want me to get roasted alive?” Kinna furrowed her brows and forehead.

Cedric grasped her upper arm and faced her down the dark tunnel. “Eight dens on the right. Go.”

Kinna watched him stop the guard and engage the man in conversation. Then she hurried down the hallway toward the den where Cedric had pointed her.

Chennuh smelled her before she drew even with the opening, and one taloned foot appeared beneath the door, the mirrored scales reflecting the torchlight.

“Chennuh?” she whispered softly, glancing over her shoulder before crouching at the doorway and rolling into the den.

The Dragon huffed, and fire danced across his snout. “Hello, big fellow. You ready to fight tonight?” She ran her fingers along the Dragon's snout. A rumble shook through the Dragon's throat. She kept her voice low and even. “I hear it's a big deal who wins. So maybe we should try every trick in the book, huh? Flying, fire-breathing, using those talons, figuring out if these scales can work to our advantage—” She traced one of the triangles with her index finger, reveling in the surge of heat from it.