Seas of Crimson Silk (Burning Empire Book 1) Read online

  Seas of Crimson Silk

  Burning Empire Book 1

  Emma Hamm

  Copyright © 2018 by Emma Hamm

  Cover Design by Julijana Mijailovic https://julijanam.com/

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For the fat cat who stared at me with judging eyes

  the entire time I was writing this book.

  This one’s for you kid.

  You’re kind of a dick.

  Contents

  1. Sigrid

  2. Nadir

  3. Sigrid

  4. Nadir

  5. Sigrid

  6. Nadir

  7. Sigrid

  8. Nadir

  9. Sigrid

  10. Nadir

  11. Sigrid

  12. Nadir

  13. Sigrid

  14. Nadir

  15. Sigrid

  16. Nadir

  17. Sigrid

  18. Nadir

  19. Sigrid

  20. Nadir

  21. Sigrid

  22. Nadir

  23. Sigrid

  24. Nadir

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Sigrid

  “Sigrid of Wildewyn, for whom do you speak?”

  She knelt before a crowd of masked women, her knees pressed against soft furs. A curl of smoke wafted from a bowl of incense set on an altar before her. Pale as a ghost, the smoke twisted in the air, coiled around her wrist, and left behind the faint scent of birch bark with an ashen smudge. “I speak for myself, as there are no others to speak for me.”

  “What promises do you make to the gods?”

  Ceremonial words burned her throat and made her voice a quiet rasp. “I vow to honor this earth, and all who stand upon it.”

  One of the women reached forward with delicate fingers and touched a small dot of gold wax to the center of Sigrid’s forehead. Her skin heated the bead, which dripped down the bridge of her nose.

  “I vow to battle for justice and honor as long as there is breath in my body.”

  Sigrid’s eyes fluttered shut as the masked woman swiped more wax down her left brow, over each eyelid, and the bottom of her lip. Each mark slid down her skin, leaving long lines of color behind.

  “I vow to hold true to my oaths and never be ashamed of my people or my birthright.”

  Another line trailed down her opposite cheek.

  The final words of her vows vibrated deep within her being and rose from her belly with the rumble of thunder. “I vow to impress the gods with all I do.”

  The vows were the first of many tonight, and the most important to her. She whispered prayers to the gods every night, wishing for a future that would cast meaning upon her body and soul. Now, the gods had given her purpose.

  It was a shame she did not want it.

  One of the many masked women offered a small wooden bowl. Burned runes decorated the sides, symbols representing happiness, health, virility—all important for this new chapter of her life.

  She took the cup, held it cradled in her hands as so many women had done before her, and took a small sip. The nettle and dandelion tea made her salivate. Bitter and biting, she hoped it was not an omen for all to come.

  “You’re doing well,” her closest friend whispered. “Just a few more rituals and then you will be free.”

  Instead of replying that she had never wanted to be free, she smiled and inclined her head.

  “Don’t look so glum.” Camilla laughed. “It’s your wedding day! You must learn to smile more convincingly if you’re to fool your husband.”

  A strange thing, marriage. Sigrid had never thought she would see the day. As a child, she had always known it was a possibility. The species required women to marry, to have children, to bring new life into the world. She just hadn’t thought it would arrive so soon.

  “Come on. We have to get you into your wedding gown.”

  Camilla reached out a dark hand. Her fingers were long, graceful, and tipped with the faintest of claws. Fitting, considering Camilla’s other form was an owl.

  Gold bangles jingled on her wrists as Sigrid reached up and placed her ghostly pale hand in her friend's. They were two sides of the same coin. Where Camilla was dark, Sigrid was light. When Camilla laughed, Sigrid frowned. But for all their differences, a warrior’s soul burned bright inside them.

  “They will expect your happiness,” Camilla advised. “You must hide your emotions better. Even I can see how angry you are.”

  “They will be disappointed if they expect me to smile through this entire ordeal.”

  “Dalvin is a good choice. He’ll be a kind husband and a good father. What more could you ask for?”

  Sigrid’s mind flew with all the things she desired. Adventure. Whispered promises of heat on their wedding night. Flickers of wickedness in his gaze, a sign he understood her desire for the hunt. All this, and more.

  Sigrid’s brows drew down. She frowned at Camilla but couldn't force the words past her lips. It was unreasonable to desire all those things. Husbands weren’t close to their wives. They worked side by side, and they desired the same outcome for their children. But passion was unnecessary. It would come in time, or she would learn to respect him for who he was.

  She sighed. “I will try to smile more.”

  “Good, because they're all very excited for you.”

  Camilla led her down the darkened hall. Small slats in the walls revealed the sun had set and flames flickered through the stretched leather skins.

  They reached stone doors carved with hunting scenes. Women with strong bodies, tall and powerful, racing through the forests. Some remained on two feet, wielding spears made of twisted metal. Others had already changed and ran on all fours, on wings, and through the rivers.

  Beastkin, the humans called them. The rarest and most exotic creatures in their world. They were women who hid an animal inside their bodies.

  Light reflected in Camilla’s eyes, changing them to eerie silver before returning to her dark gaze. “Be happy for them. It’s been a long time since one of our own married.”

  She opened the doors and revealed the hidden world beyond.

  Emerald green carpet covered the stones beneath their feet, mimicking moss covering a forest floor. The walls were painted with dark and light strokes as if sunlight were filtering through trees. Gilded frames outlined the ceiling. Each frame contained a hand-painted scene from the memories of the Beastkin. The first moment they came from the mountains, the first man they ever met, the first of their sisters to step foot in a human village.

  It was an incredible room full of wealth and immense talent, and yet it was still a gilded cage.

  Birds sang in the rafters, some Beastkin, and some animal. A deer lifted its head to look at her. A lizard crawled towards her, and so many more beautiful faces froze as they stared.

  Sigrid was the first woman the Council had requested to marry in many years. They all worried that their kind would die. The Earthen folk had captured them long ago, and there were too few Beastkin to challenge them. They were ruled by human men and women who kept their numbers limited.

  However, no man had ever stepped foot in their sanctuary. They had made it a replica of their lost home, a hidden place human eyes would never see.

  “Sigrid?” A voice lifted into the air.

  She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I am to mar
ry this day.”

  The cheers of her sisters lifted her spirits. She could do this. It was not an impossible task. Training for hours on end to learn how to fight with a spear instead of claw, that was impossible. Forcing her body to remain in its soft, fleshy prison without shaking, that was impossible.

  Marrying a man was nothing more than a duty.

  As her sisters dragged her to the center of the room and draped white fabric over her shoulders, she thought of Dalvin.

  He was a simple man. His eyes twinkled when he laughed, and deep grooves had formed on his cheeks because he was always smiling. Dark locks fell in front of his eyes, curly hair so soft it didn’t belong on a man. His arms were overly long, his legs too lanky to be graceful, and he tripped over himself at every opportunity.

  She would need to watch out for him. It was like marrying a baby deer. Except this man was already full grown, and she feared she would spend the rest of her life worrying whether he’d fallen into a mire somewhere and couldn’t get out.

  Wildewyn was full of dangers. Their forests were dark, their beasts horned, their nights rang with the cries of predators. And humans were weak.

  Sigrid curled her fingers into fists. She was not a caring person. Her nature was to fight, battle, and taste blood on her tongue. Now, she must become a meek creature looking after the fragile man she had bound herself to.

  What if her daughter shared more of her father’s traits? How could she train a Beastkin with legs like a foal?

  “Sigrid?” Camilla whispered.

  Schooling her face back into the serene expression her sisters would expect, Sigrid nodded and allowed them to slip her into the wedding gown. They had spent many nights sewing it. She should respect them enough to appreciate it.

  Silk so white it looked as if they had dipped it in the moon slid down her body. They settled a golden corset around her ribs, the metal heavy and sturdy. Around her biceps they secured swirls of gilded leaves that tangled around her arms, forming armor both beautiful and strong.

  They deftly twisted her waist-length white hair upon her head. Most of it remained loose, but pulled back from her face with braids so intricate they could never be replicated. With whispers of encouragement, they spun her around and let her see her visage in a mirror.

  She was beautiful. But more than beautiful, she was dangerous. Her eyes flickered gold and her gaze turned toward Camilla, who had painted half of her own face white. Patterns of swirling lines gave her an otherworldly look.

  Camilla held in her hands the one thing Sigrid both loved and hated. A golden mask carefully made by the most talented artisans. She held it out and placed it in Sigrid’s waiting grip.

  “Remember sister, you come from a line of ancient blood. Your skin is armor, your beauty is a blade, and your voice rings with steel. Go to your marriage knowing our ancestors will always guide you.”

  Sigrid lifted the mask in her hands and affixed the prison to her face. Hands helped her hide the ties beneath the weight of her hair. The beast inside her sighed, drifted into the corners of her mind, and was laid to rest. As always, the mask calmed it as nothing else could.

  She turned and stared into her own eyes in the mirror.

  A golden dragon stared back.

  “Are you ready?” Camilla asked.

  Sigrid nodded, followed her sister out of their haven, and strode towards the village of man.

  She marveled at how many times a woman died in her life. Her first blood, her first love, her first marriage. Every instance bringing about a new person whom she had never met.

  Who was this new version of herself? A married woman looking after a soft, clumsy male who would never be worthy of the creature within her? The dragon wanted to claw its way out of her skin. To breathe fire upon the village and remind them all what powerful creature she hid away from the world.

  It would do no good. She would have to return to this form eventually, and they would find her. Thousands of armed men could quell a single dragon easily, though not without casualties. And she’d seen too many Beastkin die because they rebelled.

  Small fires appeared at the end of the path, guiding them towards the ceremony. They walked together until they saw the circle of fire and the many people standing around it.

  Camilla tugged on Sigrid’s arm one last time. “You will visit?”

  “I cannot return to the enclave, but you can fly on wings of night to see me anytime you wish.” Sigrid leaned forward and pressed her mask against her sister’s. “I will miss you, my dearest friend.”

  “You’re afraid?”

  “No.” She shook her head and took a step back. “I’m sad.”

  Humans stood outside the first fire circle. Only family could step through to the second circle where a few people stood. Delvin had little family, and Sigrid had none. Therefore, many of the Council had replaced them.

  She saw the old men and women—wrinkles lining their skin, smiles on their faces—and wondered just how much they knew. Beastkin were an anomaly, a blessing, but they remained in cages until they were deemed useful.

  She passed through their ranks to the inner circle where a bonfire blazed. Dalvin stood beside it, waiting for her.

  His hands opened and closed as if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. A man should know. A man should reach forward and take what was his.

  Pity bloomed in her chest. He was young, like her, barely twenty summers. Neither of them knew each other well, and they had no choice in this matter. She had never considered he might not wish for this union.

  With her cold mask hiding her expression of disdain, she held out her hands for him to take. “Dalvin of Wildewyn, I offer myself to you, willing and free of chains.”

  A smile split his face, sending stars dancing in his eyes, and grooves appeared on his face. Working hands took warrior hands, and she marveled at how different they were. She had trained to fight. He had trained to work the land and eventually join the Council. They were a good match.

  He leaned forward, asking, “Are you sure you're free of chains?”

  How could she respond? No, she wasn’t free of chains until she was flying in the air above the forests where no one else could find her. Marrying him would only add more weight to the hundreds of chains which already bound her. But what was one more when she was already pinned to the ground?

  She gave him a curt nod.

  “I hope, someday, you will feel comfortable enough to confide in me.” He reached forward and placed a palm against her mask. “It’s a hard enough life without having to battle the days alone.”

  He didn’t deserve to be married to a Beastkin. They were selfish creatures, and Sigrid was the worst of them all. She had to be. She was the last of her kind.

  Gods, how she wished she could love him. Dalvin was a man worthy of love. He would give everything he could to his wife until she drained him; and even then, he would thank her and give more.

  The ice in her chest cracked just enough for her to reply, “I’m always alone.”

  Drums beat, the echoing call resounding throughout the forest. Their families hummed, those who watched the hand-fasting quickly following suit. They had little time to speak now. Soon, they would be married before the eyes of their people and the gods.

  Dalvin looked as though he wanted to say more, but she shook her head. He could ask further questions when they were bound. A Beastkin must hide their true nature from everyone but their family. He had to wait only a few moments before she could tell him everything.

  The drums drew to a crescendo and birds flew from the trees above them into the night sky. She tilted her head back, a breeze slipping beneath the bottom of her mask, cooling her heated flesh.

  “Join us in hand-fasting these lovers,” an aged voice broke through the sound of drums. Hallmar, the King of all Wildewyn and the Keeper of Beasts.

  Sigrid’s gaze cut across the crowd and found him. White hair was pulled tightly back from his skull in a magnificent braid. His voice
was still strong, but she sensed a weakness in him. His body withered from an illness she could not pinpoint.

  He strode through the circles of flames into the center where he brandished the rope in his hands. “Come forth, chosen of these lovers. Guide them into the next part of their lives.”

  Camilla stepped into the circle with one of Dalvin’s brothers, his name unimportant although Sigrid now wished she knew. They each held a garland of flowers which they placed atop Sigrid and Dalvin’s heads.

  Hallmar knotted the rope into a small noose, leaving a long tail, then looped it around their hands. She knew what to expect now, knew the words that sang in her mind until she could think of nothing else. She opened her mouth to speak, jaw working but not even a breath escaping her lips. Strange how they the words caught in the back of her throat.

  Her new husband squeezed her hands and smiled. “I choose you, to be no other than yourself.”

  So, Dalvin had a spine after all. He had spoken when she hadn’t been able to. Hallmar looped the rope over their wrists with each line spoken.

  Sigrid cleared her throat. “I will love what I know of you,” she replied, “and will trust who you become.”

  “I will respect and honor you, always and in all ways.”

  Gods, what was she doing? Marrying herself to a mortal man when she was something so much more. They could have chosen Camilla. She would have been perfect for this quiet, kind man who looked at her as if the world was reflected in her soul.

  Sigrid would destroy him. Why couldn’t they understand that she was a beast in fragile flesh? That she dreamt of blood and fire? That every moment was a battle? He deserved a wife who could see him as a man.