Early the next morning Cecily woke in darkness, filled with a fear she couldn't name. The small fire in the center of her cave had gone out. For a moment, she was aware of nothing except the blissful sensation of finally being cool. She blinked around and found Cerin nestled in the furs beside her. Rising, she felt her way around the room and fetched a box of matches from her satchel. When she struck the matchstick, a dark figure seemed to swim in the sulfur glare, causing her to freeze absolutely still, as if the point of a sword caught her under the chin.
"Tut," admonished the figure from behind the sword. After a moment, Hael stepped forward into her quarters. "An apprentice of the Sinri Keep should always be at the ready."
"Hael?" Cecily said, breathless. The dwarf smiled, and she recognized the sound of the trinkets entangled in his hair. "What are you doing here?"
"Save your breath. I owe you a debt. Though I knew not that Oril would push you so far." He frowned, his plumy brows drawing together over his sharp nose. "How do you fair, Raven of Imrath?"
"Well enough," Cecily said, with a shrug. "My body will ache a while longer yet, but..." She glanced down at herself and looked away. "I am not as bonny as I used to be."
"Do you think that matters?" Hael said. The gentle touch of his fingers was on the scarred side of Cecily's shoulder.
"Does it not?" Cecily asked, softly. "My whole life I thought I knew who I was – my place, my purpose." She stopped, shook her head, her throat working, and turned back to the fire. "Who am I?"
Hael fell silent, or as silent as Cecily had ever heard a dwarf fall. His throat swelled only a little under the collar of his cloak, a thrumming sound vibrating behind closed lips as he thought.
"You are much more than what everyone says you are, fire-child," he said, finally. "You are a spark, if Oril sees or not. Your place is here among us."
Cecily shook her head in disbelief. "The dwarves won't help me."
Hael smiled. "Am I not a dwarf?" he said, his voice rang with an earned pride. He patted his belly under the cloak. Suddenly, his crooked smile turned into a frown, and he tapped one fingernail against his teeth. "If acceptance is what you seek, you must win over the elders. And we must prove that you are far more than just meat for the Veils."
"Hael–"
"Tut," he admonished. "There is a great deal of work to be done." His long fingers curled around the hilt of his longsword propped before him, and he moved no more than a statue might.
"We must slay the Veils at their source," he said. Then after a long pause, Hael continued. "Do you know the legend of Raegan and the Cursed One?"
"I have heard some rumors, but I don't know the legend in full."
Hael's eyes twinkled. "Centuries ago, King Raegan lead an army into the Moorlands to defeat the dark mages that dwelled within the fog. They fought two battles in five days: the War of Fallen Crowns. On the fifth day, the dark ones sent a delegate to negotiate an armistice, or that's what Raegan was led to believe" – Hael shook his head – "the bastards attacked from the inside and sent a message: that even the best of men could be broken. In the end, Raegan's squire, realizing the deception, shielded his king and took the blow."
"What happened to him?" she asked, her heart racing with excitement.
"The mages gave their lives to cast that spell, knowing that once it hit the king, he would tear the world apart from the inside." Thoughtful, Hael held his tongue between his teeth. "The squire was bewitched and when Raegan learned of this, he banished the poor soul from his kingdom into Moorlands. He did survive, black magic healed his wounds. Five centuries have passed, and now, they say all the Veils are his children. But he is mortal – he can die. Only the elders will not risk the lives it would take to defeat him."
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HEIR | The Cursed Monarchy | Book 1
Fantasy~ COMPLETE AND NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON ~ In the Five Kingdoms of Saol Eile, magic is the only currency and those who have the most cast long shadows across the land. Amidst lavish parties, sumptuous banquets, and sprawling castles, despicable tyrant...