Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1) (6 page)

And talk he had. He'd told her everything—about how he'd grown up in Liam's shadow, about how his brother had gotten the best of everything, the best cuts of meat, the finest clothes, the beautiful daughter of a neighboring kingdom.

I deserved better
, he'd told her. He was of royal blood, too.
Why should Liam have everything?
His parents had ignored Sebastian's gifts of leadership, his ability to manipulate politics. Even as a fresh-faced lad in his father's court, he had turned the heads of diplomats and nobles with his silver tongue. Why couldn't they see that he deserved the throne more than his brother, who, though possessing the peoples' love, had little gift for leadership?

Olivia had said nothing. She had merely let him speak. When a single, glistening tear had escaped from her eye, tracking a silent trail next to her nose, he'd lost control again.

This time the palace guards had been nowhere near the room; there had been no one to spread rumors and hate-mongering among the servants, no fear of his actions leaking out to the general populace. Olivia’s deadened responses to his advances had both infuriated and dismayed him again. She had been like a corpse in his arms.

Two months later, when Olivia's maidservant had come for him one morning, pale and trembling, it had severely frightened him. He'd braced himself for news of Olivia’s death.

“She is in a family way, Your Grace.”

He'd sat immobile upon the throne he had won from his brother, the one his men fought to keep from the usurper, Nicholas Erlane. His mind had reeled in a thousand wheels of fire, articulate speech roaming far from him.

He, Sebastian, a father!

Sebastian, the lesser brother, the one who had always lived in Liam's shadow, the sire of progeny? Let the people favor Liam's twins if they dared. Liam was dead. He, Sebastian, had produced an heir!

If only his parents could have seen him so victorious! He would have spit in their faces.

He pulled himself from his memories and sat up. He stared at Selena, her face poised in the forgetfulness of sleep, and ran a finger across her cheek. Standing, he wrapped his robe about him and exited the room for the terrace.

He'd been so careful. The finest foods had made their way to Olivia's chambers, the best wines. Liam's twin brats were never allowed near their mother, and their high-pitched cries for her had been shuttered in the nursery.

Sebastian had visited Olivia every day, carefully touching her belly where his child grew, marveling at the tiny kicks that met his hands.

The night the child came, the healers and apothecaries surrounding the queen's bed had shaken their heads, their faces shadowed with gray despair. The babe had come too early, there had been too much blood.

By morning, Sebastian's heir, a boy not much bigger than his hand, had lain curled with Olivia on the furs. The spark of life had fled from them both.

When word came to Sebastian, he'd locked himself in his chambers, by turns hurling furniture at the stone walls and collapsing on his bed in gasping, heaving sobs.

When at last reason had returned to him, he'd calmly ordered the death of Liam's twins. If his son could not sit on the throne of Lismaria, neither should his brother's. Not in this world or the next, if there was such a world.

Sebastian's hands cramped where they gripped the terrace railing, his memory foaming darkness as he remembered the urgent cry of his messenger. “They're gone, Your Grace!”

In passion and fury, he'd spurred his men into action, spitting out the dooming words, “Find them. And then kill them.”

He'd pulled more soldiers than he could spare from his army to search for the twins, but they had disappeared as surely as steam in direct sunlight.

Liam's line still lived. But Sebastian would never stop searching for them. He'd sent men across Lismaria, and later West Ashwynd, but the children were nowhere to be found. As time wore on, he'd given up hope that he would stumble across them. But they were always there, always in the back of his mind. As long as Liam's blood remained, Sebastian's throne would never be safe.

Sebastian glanced over his Tournament fields, his jaw tightening. Perhaps the twins were dead; perhaps they had been killed somewhere along the way. But he could never rest in complete peace until he was sure.

K
inna reached
the bottom of the stairs, her head pounding with the anger that had begun when the blond boy on the viewing loft had demanded that she give up her space.

How dare he? Presuming that he was the only one that could fit into a good four spans of space. How big did he think he really was?

Granted, he may have had a point that he needed to be near an exit in case the necessity arose for his quick flight to the arena, but still ... the arrogance.

She turned to her left, hurrying down the hallway to the only other vantage point she knew how to access—a service doorway where water troughs and fresh kills were sometimes dragged into the arena for Dragons who took a long time in their training sessions.

She had watched a session from there once with Julian, but he'd distracted her with his constant fear that they would be caught at any moment.

“Relax,” she'd told him. “It's a new session; they won't be using this entrance unless the training session takes all day.”

She wished he were here with her; in spite of his tendency toward over-carefulness, she missed his company. He would have insisted on leaving before the session was over, though. She planned to stay as long as the Dragon was in the arena this time, though of course, it meant some white lies to her parents. If they ever found out what she was really doing...

She flinched as she thought of her mother's tears and her father's strained face the night before. The Elders had unanimously agreed to make Julian the Emissary to the Tournament for the Pixies, naming a second and third place as well. All three would travel to The Crossings in the spring with their Pixies. Sage had been thrilled; she could hardly hide her exuberance. Kinna had not seen Hazel again, though Julian had spotted the Pixie in a south-bound carriage headed for The Crossings and prison.

Tristan and Joanna had been quiet on the short walk home and again in the flickering light of the fire as the three sat in the main room at home.

Kinna had seen the emotion on their faces, had felt their sympathy hovering in the air. Her father would suffer embarrassment in the Council of the Elders, despite his staunch defense. The new taxes would come, swift and hard. The fresh struggle would be to find enough food to feed their family of three. A twinge of guilt had accompanied the thought that Hazel had relieved them of the responsibility to feed her as well. Kinna had stared miserably at her fingers as they fidgeted in her lap.

The three had sat for a long time by the fire without breaking the silence, and finally, Kinna had risen. “Goodnight,” she'd said.

Tristan had squeezed her hand as she passed him, but both her parents had remained quiet. Tears had flooded her eyes as she'd mounted the stairs. She'd stained her pillow with them before she'd drifted into a slumber disturbed by the hoofbeats of dream horses, dark mists, and clawing panic.

So she’d come again to the Dragon keep, a hard two hour ride by horseback, as a result of her desperation. Julian couldn't come with her this time; since he'd won the session the night before, he was spending the day with the Elders discussing strategy for the Tournament. Kinna was on her own.

A roar shook the arena as Kinna cracked open one of the doors. She peered in, her eyes level with the beast's tail where it lay curved along the arena's edge. The Dragon's scales reflected the ceiling and the loft. The images spun, and Kinna jumped back to avoid a slap from the twitching tail.

The mirrored wings beat the air once, and the Dimn in the arena shouted as he snapped his whip at the creature.

“Poor thing,” Kinna whispered. The whip lashed the Dragon's sensitive snout; he jerked away from the sting. He backed up two steps, hunching and curling, disturbed by the whip and by the shouts of the spectators. Kinna glanced in alarm at the loft, fearing the Dragon would flame the audience. Though they watched from far above, the distance didn't guarantee their safety.

But the beast didn't spit flame. He swung his head again, and Kinna caught a glimpse of his smoky gray pupil lingering in her direction.

She froze in terror, but the Dragon didn't react.

Tentative kinship flickered between Kinna and the beast. The Dragon was panicked, trapped, unable to find the freedom to be what he was—a Dragon. His desperation became hers. How could it be right to chain these magnificent beasts? He should be soaring the night skies. She imagined Julian's sarcastic rejoinder.
Soaring the night skies and burning villages to the ground with a single breath. Nice, Kinna. Brilliant, really.

But as Kinna stared at the Dragon before her, witnessing the confusion and fear that lit the creature's eyes, she knew it was a terrible thing to chain the beast, to cramp him into a man-made hole and keep him from the skies.

Instead of offering freedom, men had enslaved him, forced him into servitude, bound and confined him into a world where he felt alien, a stranger.

Kinna knew exactly how he felt.

She didn't know how to be a Pixiedimn. She'd never fit in, not as a young girl and not as a maid of seventeen, either. She was expected to act like a lady, to have her life pulled together, to find her
psuche
with a Pixie. But she'd only disappointed her Clan and embarrassed herself, her Pixie, and her parents in front of the Council of Elders.

Snap!
The Dimn again lashed the Dragon's snout.

Kinna flinched with the Dragon. The glass barbs dug deep, carving hard into his leathery flesh that lay unprotected by scales between his nostrils. The Dragon retracted with a roar that shook the ground.

Kinna ducked backward as the Dragon drew a massive breath. She lost sight of the Dimn in the river of fire that poured over him. She half-stepped forward, lurching to a stop as the Dimn's body collapsed beneath his heavy shield.

Then the arena was teeming with confusion and noise. Shouts echoed across the loft. Arena doors groaned open, and four Dimn pelted inside. They crowded behind the beast, hurling their maces at him, and Kinna could feel the beast's confusion, his uncertainty as he turned toward the doorway.

Feet pounded down the stone steps in the hallways beyond Kinna's vantage point. With a shudder, the massive doors opened, and the arrogant blond boy sprinted into the arena, swinging a pike beneath the beast's chin to snag the chain on the Dragon's collar, tugging the beast's head to the ground.

Kinna swallowed. The boy risked a fiery death, even more so than the roasted Dimn, when he did that. But the Dragon did not breathe fire on the boy. The beast had been in confinement for too long, perhaps cowed into believing that there was no use, no freedom to be found in fighting his captivity.

The Dragon exited the arena, the slow thuds of its footsteps treading into the hallway. The doors swung shut again, and Kinna held her breath, praying to the Great Star that they would lead the Dragon the other way, lest she be discovered. She needn't have worried—the footsteps continued farther up the hallway, soon disappearing altogether. Quietness descended upon the corridor.

Kinna took a step out into the open. She needed to return home before she was missed, and Julian had only promised to cover for her so long. However, when she entered the wide corridor, instead of turning left toward the exit, she turned right, following in the footsteps of the Dragon.

She pressed against the wall, her hands sliding along the cold stone as she made her way through the glinting torchlight. She was nearly to the stairs when she heard voices. Two Dimn stood near the arched doors, swinging their maces haphazardly and talking in low voices.

Kinna held her breath. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. She didn't want to face the questions that would arise if anyone found her in the Dragon keep. She'd be accompanied to the Dragon Clan's guardhouse immediately, and she had no idea if her father’s negotiation power would be enough to break her from it.

With a twist of silent movement, she tugged her loose tunic, pulling her shoulder into view. The Pixie mark was already fading again. Tristan had tried several different kinds of ink on it, but thus far, nothing had remained permanently on her skin.

The boys' voices undulated. They were discussing the smoldering Dimn.

“Do you think he'll live?”

“It was a bad one. He was twitching when they carried him off, but you never can tell, can you?”

“The one the other day didn't make it. It was the same Dragon, too.”

Kinna's heart beat fast.
Two Dimn
in as many days? How many more have faced this Dragon?

“Aye. I heard the King's men might put down the beast now. We got us a Mirage, but if it can't be trained, then there's no point, you know?”

NO!
Kinna's mind shouted the word.

For some reason she couldn't explain, even to herself, in the moment when she'd captured the beast's gaze, she had connected with the animal on a deeper level. One look from the Dragon, and her heartstrings had tugged as they never had for a Pixie, not in all the time she had spent with Hazel or any of the others.

Was it possible to feel so inexorably drawn to a different creature even if she hadn't been born into their Clan?

Connection or no, her heart bled at the thought of this Dragon's death. She felt the breath wrangled from her body, and the tears gathered in her eyes. She couldn't let it happen. She wouldn't.

She would have to find the Dragon's den and set it free.

A sharp command from a third party sent the Dragondimn boys into hasty flight.

“Apologies, Tannic. We're going.”

“'Ere boys, if you see the daft boy, Ayden, tell 'im I've 'ad enough o' him leavin' that Nine Tail's den unmucked. 'E's done it again today, and if 'e does it once more, 'e'll be out on 'is ear; you tell 'im that if I dinna see 'im first.”

“Aye, Tannic. We'll tell him.” One of the boys laughed a harsh wheeze. “And with pleasure.”

Footsteps swung into the corridor, heading in Kinna's direction, and she pushed into the tight corner between a support column and the stone wall, flattening herself as best she could.

The boys didn't even glance her way as they passed.

Kinna released a pent-up breath as they disappeared into the darkness. She peered around the column. The corridor was empty in both directions.

She slipped around the column, hurrying on silent feet down the hallway, unsure where she was going, but following the muffled grunts of Dragons.

Massive doors on her left indicated Dragon dens. She wondered which one would open to the right Dragon. Perhaps she should release all of them.

You don't even know how you're going to release one. How do you think you're going to get all of them?
She eyed the rope entanglements, wondering if she possessed enough muscle power to even crack the doors to peer under the openings for mirrored scales. She didn't doubt that there was only one Mirage in the entire arena. It had been many years since anyone had found such a beast. Nine-Tails and Poison-Quills comprised the majority that the Clan possessed. Embers were also rare, but she had watched the training of three Embers over the last six months.

Kinna kept going, second-guessing herself more with each step. Perhaps she'd come too far. Perhaps she hadn't gone far enough. And if she were caught... She shuddered.

A slit of quavering light from a doorway—a normal-sized doorway—caught her attention. This was not a Dragon door. But—

Kinna checked behind her, gliding to the door, lining her eye to the crack between wall and wood. She sucked in her breath. There was the blond boy, his long frame spread on his cot, his feet hanging over the end. His gloved hands pillowed his head; his gaze raked the ceiling with a blackness that Kinna could read from across the small room.

An idea formed. It was lunacy, yes. It probably wouldn't work. It would most likely result in her arrest. But Kinna couldn't leave the idea of the Dragon's freedom alone.

She pushed open the door and boldly entered the room, shutting the wood panel behind her. The boy leaped to his feet.

“Ayden?” she asked, lifting her chin.
Please be Ayden
.

“What are
you
doing here?” he demanded.

Kinna pulled together the details she'd overheard in the corridor. Ayden would be out of a job if he didn't muck out that den; surely he wouldn't want to lose his job. She would use it as leverage.

“I know what you did, Ayden.”
Or didn't do. What if he doesn't care what Tannic thinks?

“What do you mean?” His face blanched.

“Just that. I know that you have gotten yourself in trouble, and I'm willing to tell the arena overseer what I know.”
That doesn't make sense. The arena overseer already knows. But HE doesn't know that the arena overseer already knows.

He sank down weakly on his cot, one gloved hand running through his hair, standing it up on end.

“Why would you do that? What have I ever done to you?”

“Nothing. I mean, I—need a favor.”

His gaze met hers now, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

Kinna twisted her hands together and then pushed them to her side. She needed to appear confident. “I want your help to release a Dragon.”

He stared at her, disbelief glinting in his eyes. They were gray, nearly silver. He slowly stood and advanced toward her. Kinna fought the urge to back up. He was tall and filled out and—and dangerous. Power emanated from the bunched muscles beneath his tunic. She risked a glance at the door. Perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea.

“To release a Dragon? Which one?”

“The Mir—”

“The Mirage. Of course. The
only
Mirage in any of Sebastian's Dragon keeps, the
only
Mirage he's instructed us to train particularly. Not that there's any extra attention on this particular Dragon. Not that anyone would notice if he's gone. And yet, you want to release him.” He paused. “Why?”

“Why?” Kinna did take a step back then. Ayden matched her with a step forward. “Because I—I think he deserves freedom.”

“You think he deserves freedom.” Ayden's tone was flat.

“Yes.” She nodded decisively. “I do.” Her voice carried a confidence she didn't feel. She took another tiny step backward and felt the door behind her back. Ayden was close now, radiating anger. She pulled her tattered courage together and forced herself to speak again. “Haven't you ever looked at it from the perspective of a Dragon? Isn't there some tiny part of you that weeps when you see those magnificent creatures buried in their dens down here, eating meat that's been killed for them, rattling in the chains of their captivity? Haven't you ever thought that they don't belong down here, that the only reason they remain in chains is because of us, because of humans?”