Soulfire: Call of the Dragon Book 1

Hold your weapon with confidence.

Each thrust must be sharp and sure.

Do not hesitate.

I frown as I focus, resting the metal tip ever so lightly on stretched satin. It’s waiting to be pierced. To be decorated with fast, controlled movements. Precision matters. Technique is everything.

I feel the moment the tip punctures the cloth even as I prepare to execute the next targeted movements. They’re familiar. Ones I’ve performed countless times. Ones I’m now famous for. The Queen has ensured my skill is renowned throughout the kingdom.

The throne room fades to nothing around me as the needle passes through the cloth. I bring it back through, pretending the whipped backstitch is actually the twists and parries of a dagger. The stems of the roses I’m embroidering are going to be so damned perfect—

The doors to the throne fly open, breaking my concentration with a start.

“Mother!” the intruder shouts.

A sharp prick of pain lances my finger as the one word punctures the air. If it were anyone else, I’d be able to ignore it.

If it were anyone else, a drop of blood wouldn’t be staining the pure white roses a deep, crimson red.

Prince Zaries storms up to the queen’s throne without a thought to the gathered diplomats and officials in the conclave. “I must speak with you!”

I look up, slowly, demurely, with a practiced show of deference I’ve perfected over the years. Seeing him for the first time in weeks is enough to halt my heart and still my breathing... His shaggy, slightly curly, black hair is mussed, his brown eyes dark as if he hasn’t slept. He looks stronger than the last time I saw him, more focused. More severe. His thick brows are drawn together in rage, his chiseled jaw working as he clenches his teeth. His lips, his mother's well-formed beautiful lips, are pursed into a frown he seems to never let go. He’s as beautiful as he is deadly, my Prince Zaries.

No, not mine. Never mine…

Wearing form-fitting black fighting leathers with twin swords at his sides, he looks like a warrior. A formidable foe on the battlefield. A hero. A prince like none other. The only thing hinting at any softness in his entire visage is the golden rose stitched into the breast of his leather armor. A rose I stitched in that armor, though if he ever knew he’d burn it.

The usual flutter in my chest is there, coming to life like a hundred delicate wings. As soon as they form, they turn to glass. Shatter. And shred me from the inside out as his fierce eyes glance at me with all the heat of a burning forge. His hatred for me is as clear as his determination to confront the queen. As palpable as a venomous snake.

Silently, I slip my finger into my mouth and suck the drop of blood away, wishing there were shadows I could hide in. I lower my eyes and frown at the fragile roses on my queen’s new dress as they soak up my blood. It’s ruined, completely. There’s no saving it.

Suppressing a sigh, I hope it’s not symbolic of what’s to come. I set aside the garment, telling myself that at least I now have a legitimate reason to leave. The future I’m about to put into motion won’t start with a lie.

Queen Serena glances at me from the corner of her eye, those clear blue orbs sharp as steel as they take in the ruined garment and my emotional shift. She taps the arm of her throne, summoning me to her side. Obediently, I rise from my place on the steps and curtsey before taking my place behind her, as any well-behaved lady-in-waiting would.

She reaches back, holding her hand out. I place my own in hers softly, and she flips it, taking in the wound on my finger before turning her sharp eyes on her son. “Zaries, my child, you have caused Anara to hurt herself with your rash behavior.”

His jaw works as he looks nowhere but his mother, as if I don’t exist.

Which is how he’d like it to be.

“I have no time to worry about your lady's maid, I must—”

“What you must do is apologize. To Anara, to the court, to the memory of your father…” Serena’s voice trails off as she releases my hand.

I lower my head as the fury inside Zaries heats the room as if someone’s just taken the billows to the forge and it’s about to explode. He’s so like his father, Zaries the First. Driven. Determined. Uncompromising in his loyalty to Stormcoast.

“I will not stoop so low as to apologize to a mere servant, Mother.”

The venom in Zaries’ voice stings, even though it shouldn’t. I am a servant—a nobody. If circumstances were different, he never would’ve known I existed.

But he does.

Which is why his eyes snap to mine. He’s close enough now that I can see my reflection in that dark gaze. I see my own silver eyes, filled with emotion, staring right back at me.

“As for the court?” He turns on a heel and bows low. “I sincerely apologize for the disruption. Now leave!”

“Zaries Carpathian!” Serena shouts, rising to her feet with her fists clenched at her sides.

For a woman, she’s tall, taller than most men, with a lithe and slim frame that deceives all who know her into thinking she’s weak. Her pale blonde hair is piled upon her head in a series of intricate braids and twists—artistry of my own—which support her silver and opal crown perfectly. Her dress, a pale blue with a sheer lace overlay, shifts in the breeze from the open cathedral windows behind her throne. The crest of the Carpathian family blazes through the stained glass effigy, a gold alicorn rearing, its wings outstretched, a powerful sword and crown behind it. Serena looks menacing under the blazing light, like a powerful sorceress about to strike down anyone who dare cross her.

Zaries opens his mouth to protest, but a creaking sound from a chair in the receding crowd draws his attention.

A dark and ominous voice slips through the air. “My queen.”

I let my eyes flutter closed and try hard not to visibly swallow as the queen’s brother-in-law slinks out like a snake between the fleeing court members. Silas Ivicarus Carpathian moves through the crowd as if poisonous, people giving him two feet of space on all sides. His long straight black hair falls around his shoulders, his pale complexion only made more stark by the blackness of his hair and beard. His eyes look hollow, his steps almost pained, and still his entire visage radiates danger.

“Silas.” Serena’s voice holds a note of threat, her shoulders squared.

“Hear the boy out, dear sister. What he has to say is of dire importance.” He’s feigning concern for his nephew, surely. Silas is nothing if not nefarious.

“And how is it that you know of something so dire before my son's own mother?”

Zaries approaches, meeting his mother face to face with only one step between them. He’s a foot taller than his mother, and that last step is the only thing keeping them eye to eye. My mouth dries as I recall the slight boy I met so many years ago, the goofy crooked smile that’s since faded into a permanent grimace. Even his chiseled, handsome face can’t recover from the darkness that lies behind his eyes ever since—

“I’m signing up for the Slayer Trial,” Zaries states flatly, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tilted defiantly toward his mother.

“Absolutely not!” Serena hisses.

No! No, no, no… This can’t be happening!

My vision blurs, my heart pounding deep in my chest. He can’t be allowed to do this, he just can’t! Becoming a dragon slayer is like signing your own death warrant, and if he signs up then I—

“You cannot stop me!” Zaries roars, rising to the last step and dwarfing his mother.

“I am your queen! You will not—”

“I would already be king if not for—” His brown gaze snaps to mine, his eyes seeming to leak vile poison pointed directly at my existence. “If not for destiny intervening.”

Images flash through my mind, unbidden and unwanted. Blood spraying the trees. My dearest friend begging for her life.

Silver scales.

I look away, even as I know I can’t escape the sights and sounds forever branded in my mind. The ones Zaries lives with, too. It’s that knowledge that sends nausea burning through my insides. I waiver on my feet, then catch myself.

But the queen notices. She steps away from her son and grabs my elbow. “My dear, are you ill?” she asks, fawning over me and stroking my forehead.

“If you would please not favor your servant in my direct presence, I would greatly appreciate it,” Zaries snaps, earning a cold glare from his mother.

“Serena, she’s a mere servant,” Silas says, his voice a cool warning. “The prince is addressing you.”

“Anara is not my servant, she’s my friend.” Serena tucks a lock of my ebony hair behind my ear with a sweet smile. Her voice lowers as she speaks to only me. “Do not let his ire dim your light, my dear. He will not always hold such hatred toward you.”

“His animosity is earned,” I whisper. “May I be excused? I need to fetch some more silk and thread to start your gown again.”

“Of course, my dear. You may go,” she says sweetly, kissing my forehead before returning to her family.

I don’t miss the lingering worried gaze as I step past her. Her hand stays on me as long as possible and remains suspended in the air after I’ve passed her reach. Her love for me is unending and undeserved. I will never understand why she took me under her wing after everything I’ve done.

The anger flares in Zaries as I flee the room. I feel Silas’ eyes burning into my back with every step I take. They despise me, and rightfully so. I despise me. I place my hand on the handle of the elaborately carved double doors and turn to face the royal family again. All eyes are on me—Serena’s kind concern, Zaries’ blistering hatred, and Silas’ cold calculations.

A part of me wants to cower under their silent assumptions.

A part of me wants to lift my chin and tell them to take their conclusions and shove them up their royal asses. They don’t know me. They have no idea who I’ll be by the day’s end.

Nor will I be defined by their opinions any longer.

I will be redeemed,

Or I’ll be dead.

I take a deep, steadying breath and open the doors, pushing through and letting them close softly behind me.

I have to hurry.

Time is of the essence now more than ever.

If I don’t arrive before Zaries, I’ll never achieve what I’ve set out to do. I’ll never prove what I need to be proven. I’ll be a failure. Irredeemable.

Fiddling with my needle between my fingers, I lean against the double doors and let out a deep sigh. The time has come. It’s today. The chance to answer for all the wrongs I’ve done is waiting. A series of stairs, the open expanse of the grand entryway, and then I’ll be there in the courtyard.

Destiny is within arm’s reach.

Today I’ll exchange my needle for a different type of metal and forever be changed in the eyes of everyone who thinks they know me.

I push myself away from the door and square my shoulders. The demure and obedient Anara dies today. What awaits me now is vengeance.

Battle.

Honor.

Redemption.

And if I fail, death will be an end I welcome.

Wrapping my determination around me like armor, I grab my skirts and begin a quick walk down the ornate aisles of the castle. I have to get to my rooms, change my clothes, and return to the courtyard before anyone else. I can’t let anyone stop me now.

“Get your hands off me, you oaf!”