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

A smile softened Brynhild’s usually fierce expression. “Let her continue doing so in death.”

With that, Camilla swung Sigrid’s body up into her arms with a grunt. She would carry her friend as far as she needed to go. Then, she’d wait until her sister awoke.

----

The moon fled the sky in the wake of the sun. Camilla watched it trace the silvery lights away and bleed into the horizon with streaks of red and gold. Soon, she would awaken her sister.

Some of the other Beastkin women had come to say their last goodbyes. Camilla had been forced to place Sigrid in the ceremonial seated position of the dead. Her heart had nearly pounded out of her chest when she folded Sigrid’s hands in her lap and tilted her head back so that her unseeing eyes could see the sun.

This was wrong. This was a sacred rite, and they shouldn’t use it so lightly. Not when so many of their sisters had died in such a way, and they needed that respect far more than a ploy to get Sigrid out of the keep.

Now, she sat next to what seemed like a dead body and watched the sun rise in the horizon. The streaks of color reminded her that there was more to this world than what she could understand. The gods didn’t seem angry when the world was so beautiful. They hadn’t greeted her actions with a storm or hail. Instead, they showed her the most stunning sunrise she’d ever seen in her life.

Perhaps all would be well.

One of Sigrid’s fingers twitched. Just the slightest of movements, but still enough that Camilla knew the poison was wearing off.

“Sigrid?” she asked, crawling toward her sister and tilting Sigrid’s head so she could stare into her vacant eyes. “Wake up, sister. It’s long past time for you to leave.”

A low sigh erupted from Sigrid’s lips. It was more than she’d breathed in what felt like a lifetime.

“Thank the gods,” Camilla whispered. She began stroking Sigrid’s fingers, pushing the blood where it needed to go and hurrying up the process of her waking. “Come on, you can do it. The poison is wearing off but you need to be going a lot faster than this. The others are going to come soon, and I have to tell them that I left you here exactly where you were. The Bymerians need to take the blame for moving your body, and not the humans, I know that was the plan.”

Sigrid blinked her eyes.

Grinning, Camilla shook her head. “You were always too stubborn for even poison to kill you. Just a little bit more now, fight through it.”

Together, they battled the poison out of her body until Sigrid could lean forward and scrub her hands over her face. She looked tired. Dark circles around her eyes, puffy face, even her hands were shaking when she reached out to grab Camilla’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Sigrid whispered. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

“All true, you know. That’s one way to see whether or not people still like you. Fake your own death and the masses will come.” Camilla hesitated then added, “It didn't feel right though. Like we were doing something wrong.”

“We were.”

Leave it to Sigrid to not pull punches. Camilla watched as her sister rolled onto hands and knees, took a deep breath, then shoved herself up onto her haunches and slowly stood.

It was a process. Everything would be a process until the poison finally ran its course. She’d have to figure out how to walk in a way that would push the poison into certain parts of her body.

Camilla remembered this particular technique for torture. Her own mother was the one who had remembered the plant from the old legends and brought it to the Earthen folk. But her mother had always loved the Wildewyn people far more than the other Beastkin. She saw use in the humans that others could not.

Sometimes, Camilla still heard her voice on the wind. Telling her to be kinder, be softer when the humans were pushing her a little too far.

“They are weak, Camilla,” her mother used to say. “They need someone to look after them. Every inch of their flesh is soft, and they do not have claws to fight back with. We have to take care of them. Someone has to.”

Maybe that was why she’d always found something in Sigrid that she loved. The stoic woman reminded her very much of her mother.

Sigrid stumbled toward a nearby tree where Camilla had left the pack. She bent down, pulled at the strap, and opened it up while holding onto the small of her back. “Everything is here?”

“As requested. I put a little extra water in there, because I’m quite certain you're underestimating how far you’re going to have to travel.” Camilla pushed her braids out of her face. “Straight on toward the mountains, yes?”

“I remember.” Sigrid hesitated for a second and looked into Camilla’s eyes as if there was something more to say.

And there was. Camilla wanted something like “I’ll miss you.” Or “you’ve been a sister to me like no one else has ever been,” something that would have been sentimental or perhaps warmed her heart in the dead of night when she was wondering whether or not Sigrid was dead.

But that wasn’t her icy sister’s personality at all. Sigrid instead just nodded at her, swung the pack onto her shoulder, and blew out another ragged breath.

“I’ll head straight for the mountains and find the ancients if they’re still there. Otherwise, I’ll find whatever proof I can so as to make up some kind of story when I return.”

“That should do,” Camilla replied, her voice quiet and sad. “Are you so certain you’ll be able to return?”

“I don’t know.” Her sister no longer looked at her, but toward the mountains that hid a world of secrets. “But I plan to find out.”

And with that, Sigrid turned and walked away.

Camilla watched her and tried to still the tears from falling once again.