Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 3

An hour later, Kindra sat on her bed, staring at Elric’s dagger once more. Her mother stood next to an open trunk, rifling through the books and scrolls on her desk, holding each one up to ask if Kindra wanted to take it with her. Kindra absentmindedly shook her head for either yes or no at each one, barely taking the time to read the titles. Finally, Sera stopped and came over to her.

“You are angry, I know,” she stated, “but one day, you will… you will see that this is not so terrible.”

Kindra didn’t look up. “We don’t starve,” she said softly. “We aren’t that poor. Can you not see the horrible life I am being forced to go live? Do you not care that it’s going to kill me from the inside out?” She glanced up at her mother then, eyes wide and pleading.

Her mother frowned. “Kindra, the prince… he will be kind to you—”

“He threatened to kill you, Mother.”

“But he knew he wouldn’t have to. I could see it on his face, the way he looked at you… you sparked something in him. Curiosity, at least, but maybe there is a chance for you to be truly happy—”

“There is not,” Kindra spat, her voice shaking, offended that her mother would even suggest such a thing. “I could not love him. I will not. He is the very future I have spent my life fearing. I just want to be free . I want to be here, with you. With the people I know and love, the people I have known my whole life, have spent the last decade protecting. And you, you will be leaving them too, you realize that?”

“I know.” Sera’s voice was shaking, too, and she turned away and moved to the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. She picked up a wooden firebird from the shelf. Kindra’s father had carved it when she was still a baby and was the one piece of him she had left, besides her magic. “But it… I believe, no, I know , that,” Sera’s voice grew stronger, “this will keep you safe, in the long run. You couldn’t have protected us forever, Kindra. At some point, you would’ve found yourself in a situation where even your magic could not save you.”

She handed the firebird to Kindra and cupped her daughter’s face. “You gave up your childhood and burned it to ash for this village. And I know you may never admit it out loud, but it hurts you to have been so cruelly rejected for doing so. I know it does. Perhaps… perhaps it is time to move on to a place where your magic will be appreciated—revered, even, rather than feared.” Sera looked as though she couldn’t believe she was even saying those words.

Kindra couldn’t believe it either, recoiling as if she’d been hit. “What would he think of that?” She thrust the wooden firebird into her mother’s hand. “What would he say about this?”

“Please don’t bring him into this, Kindra,” her mother pleaded. “Your father would understand. He would have been so proud of you for what you’ve done here, for what you’ve learned to do all on your own. But he would have wanted you to be safe. He wouldn’t have wanted you to die. He knew better than anyone that an order from the Crown must be followed.”

“Followed to his death, right?” Kindra snapped. Sera flinched, and Kindra instantly regretted what she’d said. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“It will keep you safe,” she repeated, and moved to set the wooden firebird in her trunk.

“But what about happy?” Kindra felt tears threatening. “What about being happy?”

“My dear.” Her mother reached out and grabbed her hands, holding them tight. “Sometimes happy and safe simply cannot coincide.”

Kindra let her mother’s arms encircle her as the tears finally fell.

Prince Jasper knocked just as the sun was beginning to set. As Heinrich and another guard helped load Kindra’s single trunk into the carriage, he leaned casually against the door frame, watching as Kindra said her goodbyes to her mother. Around them, nearly a dozen other guards waited on their horses.

Having been emptied of tears earlier, Kindra didn’t cry as she hugged her mother. She tried to ignore the dread pooling in her stomach as she walked out of her home towards the carriage, Prince Jasper at her side. As he opened the carriage door for her, she looked over her shoulder at her mother one last time.

“I’ll see you in just a couple months,” Sera said, teary-eyed despite the reassurance she was offering. At first, Kindra had thought it strange that she couldn’t bring her mother with her. It felt so isolating. But the more she thought about it, she realized that isolation was likely the point. She would be entering this new life with no real allies at her side.

Kindra offered a tight-lipped smile, waved her hand in farewell, and stepped into the carriage. Prince Jasper climbed in after her, and seconds later, they lurched into motion.

As they traveled through the streets of Harthwin, they sat in tense silence. Kindra stared out the window as they passed the market stalls, the small earth temple and graveyard, the ivy-dressed statue of Morta, goddess of death, sitting among the tilted tombstones.

My whole life, she thought, I’m leaving my whole life behind . Some of the villagers had gathered along the road to see them off. None of them cheered or waved her farewell; they watched the traveling party with a guarded wariness—if not a little bit of dread.

They passed by Elric’s shop, and tears welled up once more as she noticed he was standing in his doorway. Their eyes met, and she thought of his dagger, tucked away into her luggage, the one piece of gratitude anyone here ever gave her. His mouth curled up in that same sad smile, and she offered one back, lifting her hand in goodbye.

Thank you , he mouthed, and Kindra’s lip wobbled. She nodded and looked away, blinking away tears. When she looked back out the window, his shop was out of sight, the carriage moving past the tiny guardhouse that marked the entrance into town.

“Are you all right?” Prince Jasper’s voice cut through the quiet, coloring her melancholy with annoyance.

“I was until you opened your mouth, Your Highness,” she bit out. I hate you .

The prince gave her a tight-lipped smile. “You can call me Jasper.”

Kindra did not give a response as she watched Harthwin—and her freedom—disappear as the carriage crested a hill.