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

  Perfectly polished, white, marble floors shone underneath his feet and reflected their movements when he could see beneath the debris. Every inch of the walls depicted carved images of hunting scenes. They covered the entrance hall with images of the forest.

  Nadir wondered if every hall in this castle was so opulently decorated. An infinite amount of time and energy had gone into carving every inch of this cold castle, and yet still leaves blew over his feet, whisked by a wind that never ceased. Tree branches poked through the thin slats of windows. Birds sang in the rafters and took flight as they moved past.

  Not a single citizen walked past them. It appeared that only ghosts inhabited the strange city. A shiver trailed down his spine at the thought. If they had captured shifters, what otherworldly creatures did the king also keep?

  The guard paused, extended an arm, and gestured towards an open doorway. “The king awaits, Your Majesty.”

  “Kind of him,” Nadir grumbled.

  Perhaps he was needlessly rude to these people, but every pale face he saw made him wonder if they were the ones who had killed his brother. He wanted to shake every person and ask if they knew the art of poison.

  If they had ever killed a king.

  A checkered pattern of gold and silver embellished the floor of the great hall. White walls carved with beautiful women stretched up to meet a glass chandelier that sent rainbows skittering across the room as torchlight struck it.

  Every detail was meticulously groomed, and yet completely unfeeling. Even the carved women lacked expression.

  The king sat on his gold throne, navy blue fabric draped over the poured metal. He sat straight as a board, staring at Nadir and his people as if he might draw his sword any second.

  Good. The feeling was mutual.

  Nadir understood they were out of place here. All these people with their pale faces, their heavy brocade clothing, their ice-colored eyes, paled in comparison to the vibrant colors of his homeland. It had only been a few weeks, and already he desired the splash of orange and pink, the crimson stones, and the rainbow of colors on everything the eye could see.

  Here, they valued winter tones. They were made of iron and ice, and he wanted nothing to do with them.

  “You left before I could invite you to meet my Beastkin,” the king said, a small smile carving grooves into his cheeks. “Please, seat yourself next to me, Sultan of Bymere.”

  His advisors murmured behind him, but Nadir enjoyed the small bit of freedom. They would yell at him until they turned red in the face when he returned. But they would not embarrass their country by arguing in front of everyone else.

  He strode confidently forward, his boots striking the marble floor, and made his way to the throne they had placed next to the Earthen king. He sank down and slapped the silver arm.

  “Not quite as opulent as yours, King.”

  “You’re in my country, it is only fitting I keep my throne.”

  A small voice in Nadir’s head whispered to ask them to switch. Just to see. Would the king abdicate his own throne just to make the Bymerians happy?

  The king arched a brow and then gestured towards the door. “The Beastkin, as requested.”

  He would have to wait then, Nadir mused. Perhaps later when he grew bored with whatever spectacles the king would show him.

  A line of women entered the room, graceful and poised with every movement. They all wore silver masks on their faces. Some were birds; others were cats. A few even showed fish and lizards. And though the masks were lovely, their forms captivated Nadir.

  They were dressed in icy colors. All the fabric was a shade of blue, some sky colored, others the deep midnight of ocean depths. Metal armor and chain links embellished their clothing as if they were walking into battle.

  He’d never felt both intrigued and afraid before.

  Each woman approached the thrones, dipped into a curtsy, and murmured, “Your Highness. Your Majesty,” then moved on.

  His eyes widened with each beauty that paused before him. The king kept a harem like this locked up? Nadir would too if he had endless access to women such as this.

  “Why masks?” he asked, distracted by yet another lovely, silken-skinned beauty. “If their faces are anything like their forms, then these are rare gems.”

  “The masks contain the beasts. We don’t want to surprise them and end up with an angry lioness in the castle.” The king chuckled. “And it is their way. You’ll discover soon enough, the Beastkin are not Earthen folk. They have their own rituals, their own expectations, that we must all follow to keep them in our lives.”

  “The one you give me will bend to Bymerian ways.”

  “She won’t.” The king let out a full belly laugh. “You’re thoroughly underestimating our women. But you’ll find out soon enough.”

  Nadir pointed at all the women lined up in rows on either side of the hall. “And which one is she?”

  The king nodded towards the opening to the great hall. “That is our most prized Beastkin.”

  Nadir turned and his stomach tightened. The woman walking towards him, bracketed by two lines of masked creatures, was the most exquisite being he'd ever seen.

  Nearly white blonde hair twisted back from her gold dragon mask, the mass of curls creating a ridge down the center of her head entwined with gold filigree. The mask itself was golden. Accusing, icy eyes glared at him from deep inside the shadows.

  Icy feathers fell from her shoulders in a cape that trailed behind her. They ended just below her chest, revealing a corset made of the finest spun silver. It accentuated her tiny waist and hourglass figure. Tiny chains hung from the end, swinging with her movement and blending with her azure silk skirt until it seemed opal droplets hung suspended around her.

  She moved with a natural grace that was both intimidating and calming. Every inch of her wasn’t human. She was barely feminine. Rather, she was an imposing figure of power and grace.

  The king tapped a finger against his throne. “Close your mouth, Sultan. She’ll only see that as a weakness to exploit.”

  If admiring her beauty was a weakness, then that explained why his knees shook.

  Nadir placed his hands on the arms of the throne, pushing himself up slightly as if he would run towards her. But he didn’t need to move. She made her way down the aisle and paused just before him.

  Her gaze met his, and he felt the chilling throb of her anger.

  “Your Majesty,” she murmured. Her voice was quiet, simple, light as air. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

  His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he managed to grit out, “The rumors of your beauty are far understated.”

  She ducked her head demurely, and he thought for a moment he knew what love felt like. She was perfect.

  Abdul stepped forward, cheeks red. “Your Majesty, this woman could be anyone wearing a mask. We need proof she is what her king says.”

  “You accuse me of lying?” The king growled.

  “He has a point,” Nadir corrected the other man. He waved a hand to the Beastkin woman. “She could be anyone and we would never know until we returned with her. An assurance is little to ask.”

  “We must build this relationship on trust.”

  He raised his voice, “And trust is earned.”

  This king took liberties that few would ever dare take with him. Just how far did he think he could push? Nadir had ignored the slights thus far, but he would not take a woman home with him if they promised a dragon.

  He locked gazes with the king until Hallmar sighed.

  The king lifted a bejeweled hand and waved at the woman. “Show him.”

  “Highness,” she quietly replied, “it’s improper to show any who are not our husband or family.”

  “I’m asking you to make an exception.”

  “We will need to speak amongst ourselves.”

  “All I can request is that you be quick.”

  The woman bowed, then retreated into the mass of her sisters who cir
cled her until Nadir could no longer glimpse her shimmering gown.

  “You give them too much power,” he scoffed. “They should bow to your whims.”

  “You will soon find out that ordering a Beastkin is like punching a mountain. You can scream and shout as much as you want, but they are not human and they will not be treated as such. Beastkin are not our subjects. They are a kingdom within a kingdom wherever they go.”

  Nadir saw his advisors shifting. They were uncomfortable with this development, and he shared their concern. If the king ordered a subject in Bymere to perform, they would rush to please. Why did these women have rights that others did not?

  The circle parted. Like a clam revealing a pearl, his new bride stepped forward in a single fluid movement. She inclined her head, bowing to the Wildewyn king until her forehead nearly touched the floor.

  “If our king wishes proof, then we will ignore the Bymerian insult.”

  “Insult?” Nadir repeated, stunned. “You dare accuse me of such?”

  “To question the truthfulness of an entire species without reason is an insult, Your Majesty. While there may be different rules in your kingdom, I will remind you now. You are in Wildewyn.” Her gaze lifted, and again her icy gaze sent shards of bitter cold into his chest. “And you are in the presence of a dragon.”

  Something heated deep in his belly at the challenge. Any woman who would challenge him was a rarity, let alone one who stared at him like a warrior on a battlefield.

  “I have never feared another being in my life,” he replied. “I’m the Sultan of Bymere, with armies I could unleash by a snap of my fingers.”

  “If assassins are your protectors, then I will train them myself when I arrive in Bymere. They were far too easy to kill.”

  Again, she rendered him speechless. This frigid woman had killed his assassins? Why had she been outside the castle where farmers laid themselves to rest?

  His brows furrowed as she stepped away. The wave of masked women parted to reveal a single, dark Beastkin standing at the end. She held a small chest in her hands, its wood scratched and marked from years of use.

  He watched, fascinated, as his new bride reached into the chest and pulled out another mask. This one would only cover the top half of her face. He held his breath as she lifted her hands to remove the one affixed to her face.

  The women shifted, surrounding their companion, and no one in the room could see her change masks.

  Nadir drummed his fingers on the throne. Just how long would this take? She was only changing a mask, which seemed to be entirely unnecessary. All he wanted was proof.

  His line of sight shifted, and again his new bride stepped forward. This mask lacked the solid form of the other. Instead, her face was exposed from the nose down. It still mimicked the face of a dragon, scales climbing up her forehead and disappearing into her hairline.

  How many of these masks did she have?

  She nodded towards her king. “If it pleases you.”

  “Watch the ceiling,” Hallmar murmured quietly to Nadir.

  Nadir didn’t have time to contemplate how strange a request that was before the woman lifted a hand to her mouth. A deep rumbling sound echoed from within her chest. It was strange, like the echoing call of a beast to its mate. The guttural sound continued until the woman opened her mouth and a fountain of flame poured from her lips.

  Fire lifted into the air, dancing and twirling. It tangled in the chandelier which turned red hot, only cooling when the woman lost her breath.

  Silence stung his ears. She bowed her head, laced her fingers in front of her, and waited for someone to say something.

  It was the right posture, the correct thing for a woman to do after a performance, but she had just blown fire in front of them. That wasn't a performance. It was magic.

  Abdul cleared his throat, voice wavering in the silence. “I’ve seen such parlor tricks before.”

  “I’ve seen a magician blow fire with alcohol in his mouth,” Nadir responded. “But, I’ve never seen them create flame from nothing.”

  “She may have something in her hand.”

  “You think this is sleight of hand?” He scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”

  Abdul shifted but finally shook his head. “I can’t explain what just happened, Your Majesty.”

  “Neither can I,” Nadir responded. He ran a hand down his chin, surveying the woman with a calculating gaze. “How do you explain it?”

  “Beastkin women are born with two sides. I am both woman and dragon, the last of my kind.”

  “So, you don't claim it's magic?”

  “I don't believe in magic. I believe in gifts from our goddess. I believe in the natural circumstances of our world, and I appreciate that my sisters and I are hard to understand. But it is not magic.” She lifted her head and met his gaze boldly.

  It was a challenge he would not turn down.

  Nadir pushed himself from the throne and meandered towards her, his steps slow and calculated. To some, it might seem as though he was giving her a chance to back away. But he wasn’t, and recognition bloomed in her eyes. He was letting her measure him as a warrior might their opponent.

  Let her get used to him. She wouldn't back away with all that pride glowing in her eyes, and he wouldn’t want her to. She would be the first woman to fight him every step of the way.

  The mere thought was thrilling. His heart pounded, his lungs heaved for breath, but he hoped he looked calm when he stopped in front of her.

  Nadir lifted a hand and placed his thumb against her chin. Tilting her head to the side, he soaked in the hatred burning in her gaze.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “Sigrid.”

  “A good name,” he mused. “Although not the one I would have chosen for you.”

  “Then I am grateful it was my mother’s choice to name me.”

  “You don’t trust my naming?”

  “I don’t trust you at all.”

  Her forwardness impressed him although it also grated on his nerves. He set his jaw and said through clenched teeth, “Why’s that?”

  “I find it hard to trust the man who ordered the murder of my husband.”

  “You don't seem like a grieving wife.”

  She swallowed. “My intended is dead. Your attack happened during my wedding vows.”

  “Were you married to him?”

  “I would have been if your assassins hadn’t killed him while he was pledging himself to me.”

  “Small miracles,” he murmured. A twinge made his chest ache, but he refused to rub it in front of her. She didn’t need to know how much it affected him, and it made him angry that he was so weak. Nadir leaned forward and pressed his lips against her mask, near her ear, and whispered, “Then we are even, dragon woman. Your people took my brother. I took your husband.”

  She didn’t respond, but he could feel her shoulders tense and saw her hands clench. He had gotten through that icy shroud she wore. Small accomplishments. He intended to win many more of their battles.

  Straightening, he cast a severe look over to his advisors. “Did that satisfy your curiosity?”

  Saafiya was the only one who didn't nod. Instead, she stared at the other woman with black rage. He would deal with his first wife later. Until then…

  Nadir nudged Sigrid’s face towards him again. “I take it there are rituals to marry you? It seems your people like them.”

  A muscle in her jaw jumped against his thumb. “There will be no rituals. Not for you.”

  The dark woman behind her flinched. It was a barely noticeable movement, but he saw it for what it was.

  He frowned. “I don’t take kindly to insult.”

  “Neither do I.”

  She was feisty, he would give her that. Nadir glanced over his shoulder at Abdul. “Write up a marriage contract. We’ll do this the Bymerian way.”

  His advisor frowned but nodded. Nadir returned his gaze to Sigrid, feeling as though he had won a battl
e. The fire in her gaze ignited a spark inside him, one he had thought long since diminished. “Ready yourself, wife.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Husband,” he corrected. “It’s appropriate to call me by my title.”

  “Husband,” she growled through her teeth.

  Sigrid

  Sigrid found herself rushed into the Beastkin’s private quarters. Her sisters pushed and shoved, their movements frantic and their breaths puffing out in horrified gasps.

  She knew how they felt. The arrogant, childish man whom she was now engaged was less than ideal. He would be difficult for the rest of her days, insulting her at every turn. He would make her future a nightmare.

  Camilla’s reaction to Sigrid’s crass declaration reminded her just how far she’d fallen. Sigrid refused to go through the Beastkin rituals of marriage. Not for that man.

  Every gold line drawn in ceremony would be a shackle around her wrists. The traditional marriage bound a husband and wife to live out the rest of their days, willingly, with each other. She could not perform such rituals when she knew she would hate this husband of hers with every breath in her body.

  Once the door shut behind them, a chorus of voices chimed.

  “You cannot marry him."

  “We will not lose you to that fool of a man.”

  “He doesn’t respect us, or even seem interested in learning our ways.”

  “Never, Sigrid. We will not suffer the embarrassment.”

  Camilla stayed at the edges of the crowd and watched her with dark eyes. They were more sisters than the others. So close, their souls intertwined. Sigrid knew what she was thinking.

  “No,” Sigrid said, shaking her head. “It’s not my wish either, but it's what our king has commanded.”

  Brynhild stepped forward, the oldest of their sisterhood and a bear in her true form. “We will fight. We’ve been waiting for the right moment, and I’ll not see you leave these walls. It’s long pastime we rebelled against these fools.”