Dawn of Cobalt Shadows (Burning Empire Book 2) by Emma Hamm (best e ink reader for manga .txt) 📕

“Probably still marching down the halls and scaring people. They won’t notice you’ve left for a few moments more. Which means we need to switch clothes immediately.”

Nadir watched blood stream into the clear water and wondered what he’d done. He’d put the keys to the kingdom in the hands of a very capable man, but also didn’t know where to even start with trusting him. He’d stolen armor and then managed to hide Nadir from the entire palace.

Who was this man?

Solomon reached out, grasped his chin, and jerked Nadir to face him. Surveying the damage, the Qatal grunted. “It’s not as bad as I thought.”

“For an assassin, you’ve terrible aim.”

“I did exactly what I wanted. You turned at the last second. If someone is aiming for your face with a blade, don’t move next time.”

“I didn’t know when you were going to throw the blade. Was I supposed to stand like a statue and not move? That wouldn’t have made everyone suspicious.”

Solomon grunted, then pulled him to his feet. “Take off your clothes, Sultan.”

“I bet you’ve waited your entire life to say those words.”

“Don’t make me put a knife in your gut as well just to make things more convincing.”

Glaring at each other, they both removed their outer layers as quickly as possible and swapped clothing.

Nadir smoothed his hand down the worn leather armor and the metal plates that covered the most vulnerable parts of the body. He knew this armor like a second skin. He’d spent years preparing to lead the armies, to fight and grow comfortable with weight on his body. As a child, he’d been a wiry scamp who had wrestled with the other boys just to prove a point. He was stronger. He was better.

He would become the personal guard of the sultan and right hand to the man who ruled the empire. When blood needed to flow, he would have been the one to open the dam. And now, look at him. Wasting away on a throne, because someone had told him that his brother was poisoned. Because someone thought it was a good idea to try and wipe out the line.

“It fits you just fine,” Solomon grunted, pulling out the knife and handing it to Nadir. “I know you can’t see what your own looks like, but anything close enough will do. The blood covered up most of it. You’re a spurter, you know.”

“Don’t move,” Nadir snarled as he moved forward to cut Solomon as well. “I’m going to enjoy this a little too much.”

Solomon caught his hand as he moved forward. “There’s a pack hidden behind the largest boulder next to the back gate of the castle. It has extra food, water, clothing, and a salve which will stop the bleeding of that wound. Travel south, as far as you can possibly go. The Alqatara will find you.”

“I’ll fly, thank you.”

“Don’t. Someone is bound to see you, and that’ll get back to the castle. You cannot shift until you’re as far from the city as possible. Do you hear me?”

The man wasn’t wrong. Someone was definitely going to see him if he flew, and then what would he do? Even Nadir couldn’t fly fast enough to stop his advisors from beheading Solomon and then the Alqatara were likely to start a civil war. All the work he’d done in the kingdom would be destroyed that easily.

So, Nadir nodded. “Understood. It would be wise not to.”

“Good, I’m glad we see eye to eye on that.” Solomon's fingers squeezed tight on Nadir’s wrist. “Be careful, Sultan of Bymere. The path you walk will bring you to things you never thought could exist. To people you never even dreamed were real. The Alqatara are not like the legends, they are much more.”

“And you be careful as well, Qatal. It’s not called the Red Palace because of the stones it was built out of. Many people have found their death here, and many more will. Keep your mouth shut.”

And with that, Nadir drew the blade down the other man’s face, turned on his heel, and ran from the room toward an unknown future.

11

Sigrid

The high-pitched whistle of wind threaded through the cavern like the sound of a flute. It rivaled the greatest musician in Hallmar’s castle. The one he’d brought from a far off land, because he loved the sound of her music so dearly. Of course, Sigrid had always thought it helped that the woman was a willowy creature who looked like one of the mythical women made of mist who lured men into swamps. Never to return.

She sat cross-legged in the center of the cave, hands on her knees, breath even and deep. Her eyes had drifted shut long ago. Sigrid could hear better if her eyes didn’t give away the source of the sound. She could feel the wind on her skin and the movement of things around her far more reliably if she didn’t know where they were coming from.

A deep gurgle rocked through the earth as ice shifted all around her. It was the bass grunt of a troll, hidden far in the forests and away from prying human eyes.

Her wet clothing hung from a branch she’d crisscrossed over the mouth of the cave. Wind brushed through them, the leather flapping like the wings of a great bird.

Fire crackled around her, but the soft pops were far more comforting to her than any other sound. She knew the way fire moved. She knew it’s taste, its sound, the way it touched her skin in a caress none had ever been able to mimic.

She’d built the fire as high as it could possibly go, then taken off her clothes, spread them out to dry, and sat down in the center of the bonfire. The dragon in her spread its wings and let the heat sink into every part of its body. Sigrid herself finally felt warm for the first time in what felt like months.

This was where she was