Hello everyone! Thank you so much for all the suggestions for the last post. I am working hard on making a decision. I also apologize for the silent time span between this post and the last. My computer has been a bit laggy, therefore making it hard to do anything without a five-second delay.
I’ve included a piece of Throne of Embers here for you all to enjoy. I’m past the halfway point of finishing the first draft, so I’d like to celebrate by giving you all a super special sneak-peek!
(Of course, if you see any mistakes, do not hesitate to let me know in the comments below.)
All around was darkness, and I could not see anything beyond my nose. Anticipation broiled and grew rapidly in my veins and took the form of fire. But—embarrassingly—the tiny flames were crackling and sparking on my eyelashes, and they weren’t spreading to the tips of ginger hair that hung partially over my eyes. They stayed on my lashes and didn’t wink out until I blinked rapidly and repeatedly.
“You’re so young.”
The sudden voice made me jump, and my entire head of hair caught on fire to show that I’d been properly startled, my heartbeat ringing in my ears.
With a whoosh of a loud wind, torches lit up one by one, bordering the walls of the grey room and flooding it with warm, golden light. The space was much smaller than I realized, and a small, middle-aged woman sat on a stool in the corner, fiddling nervously with her silver streaked, chin-length, curly raven hair. A small table sat in front of her, with a single, scented candle placed upon the fine wood. The wick of the candle was blackened and withered, curled in on itself from the many times it was put to use.
“Who are you?” I asked the woman. She looked weathered with age, but her youthful eyes seemed to give a sense of extreme alertness. I was assuming she was in her late forties.
“I would’ve asked you the same question, if I didn’t already know your name, Prince Rúan,” she responded in a little voice that sounded very much older than her eyes made her seem.
Eyes created illusions, if I’d learned anything new from my stay at Starlight Glen.
But getting to the vital part of what she said, I asked warily, “How do you know my name? Why did you call me a prince?”
“I called you a prince because you are a prince,” she answered, her gaze trailing off from me and fixating on a point in space.
Out of the blue, Corey swiftly pulled me to his side and whispered in my ear, “The Seraphina is more than a little out of it, so ask detailed questions that can’t be answered with a ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ or can’t be answered with statements similar to the one she just gave you. And don’t ask about her past whatever you do.”
I gulped and nodded, and Corey retreated back out the room and to the place he’d been watching from before.
I took a deep breath and asked slowly and carefully, “If I am a prince, then what clan do I belong to?”
The Seraphina’s eyes flashed with fear, as if she were experiencing a painful memory. Then her lower lip trembled as she choked out, “You are from the clan of Blazing.”
Corey’s words echoed in my head:
She told us to expect a struggle. After all, he is Blazing.
It’s in his blood as Blazing.
I did have a clan.