Princess of Fire (The Light-Bringer Trilogy, #2)

Two

The sound of twigs snapping and snow crunching woke Cal. Matias was already on his feet, his sword drawn. Cal got to her feet, unsure of what she was going to do. The iron that was smothering her made her magic useless.

The crunching got louder as someone ran into the clearing. Cal's brows furrowed under the iron mask.

It was a girl. She was around Cal's age—a little younger, perhaps. Her skin still had some colour from trekking the Verzengend desert. Her long hair was as white as freshly fallen snow. She wore a royal blue travel coat with silver buttons and stitching, her navy blue trousers tucked into dirtied white boots. If she hadn't looked so travel worn—especially her clothes—she would have to be a wealthy merchant's daughter at least.

The girl's breathing was ragged, her breathing coming out in clouds in the Krigerean winter air. She must have fled wherever she was from in a hurry if the only sense of belongings on her was a leather pack.

They stared at each other, Cal and Matias's pine green and steel grey eyes meeting the girl's wide sky blue ones.

There was a loud bang. The girl stumbled forward, screaming in pain. Her blood splattered red against the snow, the right sleeve of her jacket stained purple.

"Run!" Matias bellowed. "Run, Cal!"

She turned and ran, the iron weighing her down. Her black boots crunched in the snow, trees flying past her. Cal batted away the tree branches with her iron-clas hands.

Out, her magic hissed. Out.

Muskets fired behind her.

Where was Matias?

Her fire flared. Cal shrieked—the mask, the gauntlets heating up. She collapsed in the snow, the iron slowly cooling.

She heard multiple footsteps approaching. She felt strong hands under her arms, lifting her to her feet.

"Go, go!" Matias yelled, shoving her forward.

They stumbled through the snow, the moonlight throwing shadows through the canopy. The musket-fire got louder. More footsteps—from in front of them.

Cal's heart dropped. They were surrounded.

The iron heated, her fire slipping its leash. Snow sprayed as she fell. It did nothing to cool her down. She shrieked, the white-hot iron branding her.

You bow to no one, she told herself. You bow to no one, you bow to no one, you bow to no one.

"Cal, come on, please!" Matias begged. "Cal, we must start running!"

She couldn't run. Cal looked up at Matias, white slashing through her vision. She saw the girl in blue running further into the woods, clutching her bleeding arm.

Painfully, excruciatingly, Cal got to her feet, her knees buckling. Slowly, starting off as drunken stumbling, Cal half-ran, half-stumbled through the snow.

Another crack shot.

Matias screamed. She looked behind her to see him sprawled in the snow. She watched him struggle to his feet.

"Keep going!" he shouted as he limped as fast as his wound would let him.

There was shouting up ahead. Shouts in Krigerean. Sunlight flared and Cal shielded her eyes. Men—Krigerean men—ran out of the wall of light, muskets in hand. The men all ran past them, dead set on protecting their kingdom.

Black spots dotted her vision. Her head pounded, pounded, pounded—

The world tilted.

One of the soldiers caught her. She looked up at him. His eyes were pine green, his bright red hair was tied up in a knot. Not a soldier—a commander.