Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1)

by Tamara Shoemaker

  “I should not influence you.”

  “You've done nothing but confirm my own suspicions.”

  Cedric watched her flushed face, her downcast eyes. He had learned enough of the customs of society to know that he should not press her, but he couldn't help himself.

  “Is there anything I can do for you, my lady? Anything at all?”

  She shook her head. “No. Yes.” She faced him. “Please, please don't mention any of this conversation to the King or—or his council, or Pomley. I'm here to bring peace between our countries, and my uncle is counting on me to make this happen.”

  Cedric's throat constricted. He knew the King had no plans to give up his vision of taking the Lismarian throne, but he knew little of the details of the plan. He was a mere pawn in the King's game, and he would stay here at the palace, training the King's Dragons, sending them off into battle when they were ready.

  When he had come to seek his own people, he’d had no idea that he would be walking into a prison with no end to his sentence in sight.

  “You may count on me, my lady. This conversation would look bad for me as well.” He struggled with his conscience, with fear. Honor won out. “My lady, be wary of any peace deals the King brings to the parley table.” He wished to say more, but caution bound his tongue.

  “What are you saying?”

  Cedric shook his head. “I don't know anything, my lady, except that Sebastian still has his eyes on your uncle's throne. I doubt very much that he intends to give up his aspirations.”

  Her blue eyes stared at him. He wondered if she truly believed him. A tiny, frantic portion of his brain tossed around the idea that she would run to Sebastian and tell him everything his Dragon-Master had just said.

  The tears that filled her eyes threw that idea far away. Her hand suddenly reached across the space between them, and her fingers slid through his, gripping them tightly. “Cedric, what will I do?”

  Cedric shook his head. “I don't know. Would your uncle understand if you sent him word of Sebastian's plans?” His voice dropped to a whisper. None of the guards were present since the Dragons were in the fields, but he couldn't be too careful.

  “I love my uncle, Cedric, and he would do anything for me. This is the only thing he has ever asked of me—to wed Sebastian and to bring peace between our countries. I know it tore him apart to make the request, but I would go to the ends of the earth if he asked it of me.”

  Cedric glanced down at their hands. She had not removed her fingers. A thick gold ring notched her skin below her knuckle, and Cedric held up the ornament, studying the swirling pattern that flattened the top of it. “What symbol is this?” he asked as he twisted it across her skin.

  She was silent; Cedric raised his eyes to meet hers, wondering why she did not reply. “My lady?”

  She dropped her gaze. “I—it's the symbol of the Seer Fey, the guardians of the ancient Dragonking, Aarkan the Firestorm.”

  “Why do you wear their symbol?”

  She slowly withdrew her hand from his, hiding it in her lap. “My uncle wants his family to show solidarity with them; we are a royal family, after all, and though we aren't descended from the Dragonking, we sit on his country's throne.”

  Cedric's hand felt bare where she'd removed her touch. He contemplated reaching for her hand again, but she abruptly changed the subject. “I miss him so much, Cedric, and Sebastian—frightens me.” Her lashes hid her eyes. Cedric wished he could gaze into their blue.

  “Then I must help you send a message back to your uncle. If he loved you so, he would never ask you to remain with such a man.”

  Lianna slowly shook her head. She leaned against the wall, defeated. “If my uncle breaks the peace treaty, Sebastian will know that I've discovered his treachery. He'll kill me, won't he?”

  Cedric rested his head on the wall next to hers and nodded. “I regret to say that he has done far more to some of his subjects who have done far less.”

  Lianna's words were void of life as they left her lips. “So I have no choice. I must wed the man, though he likely hopes to kill my uncle to regain his throne. I am trapped in his web.”

  “Nay, my lady.” Of its own accord, Cedric's hand brushed a strand of golden hair away from her cheek. “I will help you, I vow it upon my own life.”

  Her eyes met his, and a deep connection wavered between them. Cedric couldn't tear his gaze away. He dropped his attention to her mouth, and before he could act on his impulse, she had crossed the distance between them, her wide lips soft on his, her mouth supple and willing.

  Cedric's eyes slid shut, his breathing sped up, his heart hammered in his ears. He framed the sides of her face with his own hands. Her cheeks were smooth and soft, cool as rain. Cedric thought he would drown in the pleasure of her kiss.

  A moment or years later, he pulled back, resting his forehead on hers. “My lady...”

  Her fingers trembled as they brushed the front of his tunic, down his sleeves to his hands. She slid her fingers through his again. “I—I'm sorry, my lord.”

  Cedric shook his head. “Nay, 'tis my own fault. I did not try to deny myself the pleasure. But if the King discovers even half of the material we covered in this den, then we are both dead.”

  She nodded silently and stood. Her eyes still swam with moisture, but she dashed it quickly on the sleeve of her gown and straightened. “I must return to my maids. I left them in my chambers today, and they will be wondering where I am.”

  “Aye, my lady.” Cedric stood as well. “I will try to formulate a plan,” he added in a low voice. “You will know when I know.”

  Sincere gratitude shone in her eyes. “Thank you.” With a curtsey, she disappeared into the darkened corridor.

  Cedric sank back down, staring at the spot where she'd disappeared.

  Ember huffed, and smoke wafted over Cedric's face again. He turned his attention to the beast, reaching to pat the scaled portion of the Dragon's snout.

  “Aye, Ember. I think so, too.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sebastian

  Sebastian hurried down the steps to the dungeons. Lanier waited for him at the bottom, his hands clasped behind his back.

  Sebastian passed him with barely a glance. “Where?”

  “The second hallway, Your Grace. First cell on your right.”

  Sebastian nodded, striding through the wavering torchlight, through the gauntlet of hands as they reached through bars, through the pleading clamor as the prisoners called for mercy, forgiveness, restitution, as they made empty promises for freedom's sake. He ignored them all.

  Turning into the second hallway, he found Rennis sitting on the floor of his cell, his legs curled in front of him, his once-neat salt and pepper beard now matted and dirty.

  Sebastian stopped in front of the bars. The man slowly raised shadowed eyes to meet his.

  “Rennis.”

  Rennis turned his head and spat in the straw. He leaned against the wall and stared at Sebastian.

  “You're unhappy with me.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  Sebastian sighed and motioned to the hunchbacked jailer who had melted along the hallways in his wake. The man scurried forward and inserted a key into the lock, and the heavily barred door opened with a clang.

  Sebastian's booted feet scuffed to a stop in front of Rennis, and he clasped his hands behind his back, staring at the unkempt mess before him.

  “Do you know why you've been allowed to live as long as you have?”

  No change softened Rennis’ hard glare.

  Sebastian squatted down, his forearms resting on his knees, his eyes level with the other man’s. “When you went to Nicholas Erlane and set forth the terms of the treaty, you returned with my soon-to-be bride on your arm and delivered her into my keeping, assuming all would be well.”

  He saw the glint in the dark eyes. He was getting close.

  “The day before you crossed the Channe
l of Lise to set foot in Lismaria, there were some important scrolls in my possession, locked away in a cabinet in my council chambers. Scrolls that detailed some of the battle plans my generals and I had mapped out months ago. The day you left, they went missing.” Sebastian paused. “You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

  Rennis shook his head. “Nay, I've already told you, I know nothing.”

  “Well,” Sebastian stood, “that much is obvious. If there were any brains rattling around in that empty head of yours, you would have spoken long before now. However, as several months have passed since you were escorted to your chambers here, and since you seem reluctant to open up about the things you do know, I've given Genlich here permission to loosen your tongue however he chooses.” He motioned to the hunchbacked jailer who stood in the open doorway behind him. “I suggest you give the words free rein through those cracked and parched lips of yours,” he said as he moved toward the door, “before you lose them completely.”

  With one final look into Rennis' dark eyes, Sebastian exited into the hallway, leaving Genlich to lock up. Lanier followed Sebastian to the stairwell.

  “Do you think he knows, Your Grace?”

  “Aye.” Sebastian faced Lanier at the foot of the stairs. “‘It’s obvious he's hiding something. I'll leave it up to you and your men to discover what. Bring me word as soon as he says anything—and Lanier?”

  “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “Don't kill him. Not yet.”

  Lanier bowed, and Sebastian hurried up the stairs.

  * * *

  The opening ceremonies for the Tournament were starting that evening. The lists were drawn, the brackets arranged. Each creature group would compete with its own kinds, but the top two winners of each group would advance to the final round where they would test their skills against one another.

  The Tournament would last two weeks, and the final match would cover most of the last day. The closing ceremonies would end the Tournament in the evening, and the following day, everyone would depart for their homes, set to try again for the next year.

  Sebastian could hardly wait for the final. The three strongest, wittiest, speediest, fiercest creatures and their Dimn from each Clan would face off in battle. Up until now, he'd only ever conscripted one winner from each creature group to lead portions of his armies, but perhaps he should consider two.

  Certainly, if West Ashwynd were to declare war on Lismaria, he would need several of the best from each creature group.

  He turned for the armory; he was scheduled to spar with Lanier for a bit before he bathed and readied himself for the opening ceremonies. As he turned down the hallway, Lady Lianna appeared around the corner, her gait meandering, her gaze on the stone floor in front of her. One of her maids accompanied her. Concern creased the maid’s face, and her arm gently touched Lianna's shoulder as she implored her future queen in a low tone.

  “My lady.” Sebastian bowed.

  Lianna's gaze flew upward; her hand winged to her breast. “Your Grace, you startled me.”

  “My deepest apologies, my lady.” He advanced, glancing at the maid, jerking his head toward the hallway.

  The maid bobbed a curtsey and fled.

  Sebastian took Lianna's hand in his and pulled it into the crook of his elbow. “Accompany me to the armory, my lady.”

  “Do you—go to fight?”

  “Aye, to wage war upon my head general and to teach him that I still have some skill with a broadsword.” Sebastian's mouth tugged upward at the corners.

  She didn't smile as he had expected. Her eyes remained cast down as they entered the long hallway to the armory.

  Sebastian searched his mind for a more interesting subject. “Are you looking forward to the Tournament ceremonies tonight?”

  She forced a smile and shot a quick blue glance up at him. “Aye, Your Grace. It will be a festive occasion, will it not?”

  “Most festive. You'll meet many people from all over my kingdom. Do you like the idea?”

  “Pardon, Your Grace.” She glanced up, and he could see she was not attending. “What idea?”

  “The idea of becoming my queen.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes darted to the side, and then back to his. “There is no greater honor, Your Grace.”

  Sebastian stopped walking and turned her to face him. His fingers brushed the smooth skin of her chin, and he tilted her head up so he could look directly into her eyes. They were swimming with tears.

  “And yet, you don't say that you shall like the honor, my lady.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “I—I shall endeavor to do what Your Grace requests,” she said, finally.

  Sebastian tipped his head closer to hers. His breath fanned across her lips as his voice sunk to a whisper. “Are you so terribly homesick?” He decreased the distance between them.

  “I—I do miss my family, Your Grace.”

  “And not even the promise of a wedding trip to Lismaria renders your heart any lighter?”

  His lips were nearly there now, so close.

  “Y—Your Grace...”

  “Sebastian, Lianna. We are to be wed in a mere fortnight.”

  “Sebastian, please—”

  His lips touched hers, and the words died on them. It was as he'd hoped. The broad, full mouth was as soft as he'd imagined.

  He stepped closer, pressing her against him, reveling in the sensation of her smell and her touch.

  A heavy clank of metal yanked him away from her, and he whirled to the hallway entrance, where Cedric stood dressed in full knight's armor. His helmet had dropped to the floor and rolled.

  The lad's face was white and strained. Two brilliant red marks streaked his cheeks. He bowed stiffly. “Your Grace, the General sent me to discover why you have not attended the training yard yet.”

  Sebastian flushed liked a callow youth, feeling foolish. The young jack-a-napes had caught him in his pleasure, and he was not pleased.

  “Get you gone, Cedric. Tell Lanier I will come momentarily.” His voice lashed down the hallway.

  Cedric wheeled and left them alone again, the helmet still sitting forgotten on the floor.

  Sebastian turned back to Lianna. She stood angled away from him, her gaze fixed on the ground, her deep blue gown trailing the cold stones beneath her. He took a step toward her, touched her shoulder.

  She flinched.

  Sebastian ignored the reaction, trailing his fingers down her arm to her hand. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it. “I make no apologies for the kiss, my lady. It was pleasurable, and I look forward to many more.”

  The blush that colored her cheekbones was enough of a response for him, and he dipped his head as she walked down the hallway. His thoughts turned once again to the auburn-haired Dragon-Master as he himself turned for the armory.

  * * *

  It was starting. Sebastian stood in the shadows of the pavilion behind the stands, listening to the rise and fall of hundreds of voices in the cold air outside. The days had begun to warm a little, but the nights remained quite chilly. There would be blankets spotting the crowd of spectators in the stands around the fields where the opening ceremonies would take place.

  An expectant buzz replaced the general clamor of people's voices. They knew their King would appear at any moment, and eyes would be eagerly watching the stands where two waiting chairs sat side by side. He would enter from behind one curtain, Lianna from the other side.

  The people loved their beautiful queen already, even before the wedding.

  The trumpets blared outside, and Sebastian took a deep breath, stepping into the light of a thousand torches, saluting the cheering crowd. He smiled benevolently upon his people. They were, in effect, his own creatures, brought to heel by the gentle handling of his government. He was their Dimn, their Master.

  Liam had trained merely Dragons. Sebastian mastered a kingdom.

&nb
sp; Lianna appeared from her doorway, and roars of delight echoed in Sebastian's ears. As she drew near, the smile that spread across his face was born from genuine admiration.

  He reached for her hand once again, bowing over it and placing a kiss upon the back of it. The adoration of the crowd was deafening.

  He straightened and handed her into her seat. “One moment,” he murmured in her ear.

  She glanced up at him, questioning.

  He turned back to the crowd and held up both arms.

  The stands gradually quieted. Sebastian raised his voice to a shout, and his words echoed off the hedges and walls behind the stands.

  “Welcome, my people, to the annual Tournament. You are here to be delighted, entertained, and ravished by the wealth of your kingdom. For your benefit, the Dimn and their creatures will stun us all with feats of strength, speed, and agility. I am sure you will not be disappointed.”

  A roar thundered across the open spaces, and Sebastian once more raised his hands for quiet.

  When there was nothing to be heard but the still air on the field, Sebastian lifted his voice to a shout again. “Tonight, you will be treated to a review of your armies, as well as a spectacular display of fireworks from our own Dragons. There will be kegs of mead opened afterward, and I mean that you should drink your fill.”

  He turned to sit, and a roar of approval burst across the open spaces.

  The gate at the north end of the field opened, and Lanier entered, flanked by six of his ranking generals. Each rode a horse decked out in the finest plumage and blankets; each held a banner with West Ashwynd's symbol blazing in brilliant colors. Behind them, a hundred more knights on horses entered, riding in formation. After this company had pranced across the open field, foot soldiers arrived, company by company, until the entire field was full.

  Lanier had ridden his horse before the King's box, his helmet clenched beneath his arm as he bowed his head before Sebastian.

  “Your Grace,” he shouted. “May I present a mere fraction of your army!”