Soul Blaze by Aprille Legacy Read Free Book Online Page A

veins.
I was obsessed.
    “May I see it?” I asked Iain for the thousandth time, at
the end of one of my training sessions that they’d insisted
on.
    He held out his hand, and the ball of fire gleamed upon
it. I watched it for a few seconds before I instinctively
reached out for it. He closed his hand on it, the fire dying
immediately.
    I sighed and let my hand fall. The swords they’d been
training with were on my back in sheaths that crossed
over, their hilts poking above my shoulders. I loved them
almost as much as I loved the sight of my magic. I’d been
thrilled when Iain had handed them to me for the first
time.
    “They’re engraved.” I’d said in wonder, examining the
shining blades. I carefully traced the outline of small vines
that had been etched on the left hand sword. The other
had flames that spanned the length of the blade.
“Yes,” Iain had said, rather disgruntled. “If you find a
way to get it off, let me know.”
“Who engraved them?” I asked, and when he didn’t tell
me, came to my own conclusion.
    As they taught me how to use the swords, I tried not to
remember why. Whenever I remembered the man in the
painting, the image of Iain holding the white fire, my
magic, forced his visage from my mind.
    After a week of training, the swords had become part of
me. They were merely extensions of my being. Netalia
couldn’t hide her surprise - or her disappointment,
curiously - about how fast I’d picked them up. Iain,
however, was more focussed on the task at hand.
    “You are ready,” he said at the end of a particularly
gruelling session. “We will lure him here, and you will
meet in the rose garden.”
    The rose garden seemed like a strange place for an
assassination, but I didn’t argue. Guilt was beginning to
rise like the tide in me. Iain must’ve seen the doubt in my
eyes, because he held out a small portion of the fire to me.
    I grabbed at it like it was a lifeline. To my surprise, he
let me, and a small flame transferred to my fingers. I
spread my hand, watching the fire dance upon the tip of
each finger. Even with this small amount, I could feel the
power beginning to leech into my veins like cheap wine.
When Iain tried to take it back, I let him, unwilling to
jeopardise my chances of getting it back for good.
I’d all but forgotten my victim.
    The day of the assassination dawned bright. I felt
hollow, empty inside. I was teetering on the edge of
indecision, but then I’d remember the power, and how it
felt in my blood. I needed it, and if this man was the key
to getting it, then I’d go through with it.
    By the time Netalia came to get me, I was dressed
neatly, my hair pulled back into a tight bun so as not get
in my way. My hands were loosely clasped behind me.
“You’re eager,” she said, almost disapprovingly, like this
wasn’t what she’d wanted all along.
“Of course I am,” I told her, following her out of the
door. “I get my magic back today.”
    I watched her closely as I said it, searching for any signs
of deception. But when she didn’t display any, it only
increased my certainty that by the time the sun went
down, I’d be brimming with that delicious power, that
beautiful white fire.
    “You mustn’t let him speak to you,” Netalia said as we
descended the stairs. “He’s an accomplished liar. Anything
he tells you is false at best.”
“Why has he agreed to see me?” I asked as I followed
her into the bright sunshine.
    She didn’t answer, instead leading me to a bench in the
midst of the roses, their flowers heavy and dipping
towards the ground. I noticed that the bench was situated
in the middle of some blood red blooms; fitting, I suppose.
I sat on the seat.
    “Your swords are under the bench, within easy reach.
And Rose,” she cupped my face in her hands, for all the
world a wise grandmother. “Don’t hesitate.”
    She strode away through the roses, back into the castle.
I turned my face to the sun, allowing