Dawn of Cobalt Shadows (Burning Empire Book 2) by Emma Hamm (free novels to read TXT) 📗

“And you think that was a Beastkin? It could easily have been a human who climbed down from the mountain, because he didn’t want us to be here. There’s no reason to think it was one of us, the people who have asked to be family and have been nothing but that.”

The seeds of doubt were sown. How had Sigrid known things would fall into place so easily? Camilla didn’t understand her sister’s thinking sometimes. It was as if her human side was stronger than the dragon.

Shaking her head, Camilla stepped in before it went too far. A brawl would only end in more blood, and as much as she wanted to see Brynhild fight Jabbar, she knew it wouldn’t end well.

This was Sigrid’s plan. And she had to stick to it.

“Stop it,” Camilla scolded. “This isn’t what we’re here for. You can fight each other in the morning if that’s what you wish. But tonight is for her.”

She pointed at Sigrid’s burning body. The sight made her eyes tear up and her nose run.

Emotions making her voice warble and lip quake, she added, “That is my sister. And she is burning on a pyre because none of you could save her. You were all squabbling and listening to idle prattle. It doesn’t matter if it was a Beastkin or a human who killed her. Because she is still dead.”

The last sentence was a shout that carried across the crowd and echoed into the night sky. An owl took up her call, hooting with a sadness that she couldn’t express in this form. She shouldn’t be mourning. Her sister wasn’t dead, and yet…

Camilla turned back to the fire, filling her eyes with the sight of Sigrid’s fake death and let the emotions swallow her whole.

She fell to her knees next to the fire. Slowly, she lifted her arms out at her side and lifted her face to the sky.

“Behold, ancient mothers of old. Before you lies a queen whose battle cry shook the heavens with her anger and her rage. She holds her people’s love in her still hands. Her people cry for her.”

It felt wrong to invoke the rights of death for a woman she knew was alive, but this was only the first of many lies she would spread. And she would do so gladly if it meant their people would take a better path.

Camilla kept her eyes closed until she heard the sound of earth shifting next to her. Opening one eye, she glanced over at Brynhild who had settled onto her knees.

Perhaps it was a cruel thing to do. There were some among the Bymerians who would mourn for Sigrid’s death as well. However, the Earthen Beastkin needed to be separated from the men, at least for a time. Their minds needed to clear from lust and awe.

The Bymerians wouldn’t know this ritual. They wouldn’t know the words, the song, the movements that her sisters knew since birth. Instead, the men would be forced into the shadows as the sisters of Wildewyn mourned the loss of their own.

Brynhild’s voice was deep and chilling in the cold night air. “Behold, ancient mothers of old. Here lies a woman who sacrificed blood, life, and freedom for her people. Her people sing—” her voice cracked, “—their queen is dead.”

She reached out and wove her fingers together with Camilla. Their arms remained raised, linked together through pain and loss.

Another Beastkin woman, a lioness if Camilla remembered correctly, fell to her knees on Camilla’s left.

“Behold, ancient mothers of old. Here lies a woman whose body shall turn to ash and dust, but whose spirit will search for you in the beyond. Her people sing so that her soul may be guided into the afterlife.”

Over and over, Beastkin women fell to their knees and reached for each other’s hands. They all stayed linked, whispering words of encouragement for the ancients to take one of their own beloved sisters.

Camilla stared hard at Sigrid’s body, and saw a single tear slide from her sister’s eyes and sizzle on the wood beneath her. The others might think it was her soul leaking out, thankful for their help, but she knew what it was.

This wouldn’t be easy for either of them.

Camilla sniffed hard, tears streaming down her cheeks freely now. With a great surge of self-control, she let a hum roll in her chest and throat. A quiet sound, a soft whisper in the night that would hopefully encourage the ancients to see her sister. To come and reach out for one of their own.

Neither she nor Sigrid had ever really believed in the old ways. They didn't believe there was an ancient Beastkin mother who would come and collect their souls. But in the moment, Camilla felt the chilling bite of the wind and hoped they weren’t wrong.

This wasn’t what she had wanted to do. And yet, this was the only way their people would be safe.

The Beastkin women remained on their knees, humming until they lost their voices. Only when the sun rose on the horizon did they slowly stand, knees aching, and release their hold on each other.

Brynhild pressed a hand to Camilla’s shoulder. “I will take her to the resting place.”

“No,” Camilla shook her head forcefully. “It should be me.”

“No one should have to bury their blood.”

She shook her head again, pressed a shaking fist to her mouth, then stepped toward the pyre. “It will be me.”

Sigrid remained untouched by the flames. A dragon could not burn, even in death. Camilla touched a finger to her sister’s warm face and breathed out a soft sigh of relief.

The Beastkin women gathered behind her. “Would you like us to walk with you?” Brynhild asked.

“No. I will take her to the final resting place.”

“Make sure you sit her up.” When Camilla sharply glanced back, Brynhild shrugged. “Don’t curl her up like the others in the tree roots. She wouldn’t want to be in a position so delicate.”

“It will offend the gods.”

“She always did anyways.”