Blue Fire
Amity Thompson
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Connect With Amity
More from Amity
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2020 by Amity Thompson
Cover design by Books Covered
ISBN: 978-1-951108-03-8
Published by Secondary Worlds Press in 2020.
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.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Chapter One
I had run out of places to hide.
This morning, a city had seemed like the smart answer. Small villages like the one I’d been raised in, they noticed strangers. They’d report me to the local noble right off. But a city? It had people. Too many people, I’d hoped, and no one would notice a girl working in a stable or in a kitchen. Work hard, work quiet, keep my head down, and keep my emotions in check. Simple. Flawless.
Except I didn’t know cities. I didn’t know that narrow streets were bad. That narrow streets had building butting up against building, too tight to squeeze between. That if you picked the wrong one of these streets-that-weren’t-streets, yes, you may not be noticed by other people, but you might end in up a courtyard smelling of rotting cabbages with no way out.
“Pigshit,” I said after I rounded the corner. The enclosed area only had knee-high crates to hide behind. Only two of the four walls had doors. I hurried to the first—locked.
As my fingers released the handle, the sound of footsteps came around the corner.
It’s over.
I’d only been running a week. A whole week, never seeing a single noble in the countryside. Then, just inside the gates of the first city I’d come to, a brown cloak had begun to follow me. Then two. And while cloaks weren’t disturbing—near twilight, many people wore cloaks—I’d spotted the glint of red at the cloaked figure’s side.
Not a sword. Scarier than a sword. A ring. A gemmed ring.
Only nobles were allowed to wear gemstones.
“I seem to be lost,” I said. I turned around and tried a smile. “If you’ll excuse me—”
The first figure raised a hand, and I faltered. He wore a ring, yes, but his hand wasn’t the sun-starved shade of the nobility. He was the shame shade as me—the dusky brown of farmers and lower traders and all those who work outside, and that didn’t make sense.
“My king, he wants to talk to you,” he said.
I frowned deeper. He was almost impossible to understand. The words, too thick on his tongue.
“Adara, yes?” he continued. “Mage of blue fire?”
“Only nobles have magic.” My mouth tasted drier than the dirt of last season. “You’re mistaken. If you will let me pass...”
The setting sun had dimmed the courtyard, but there was enough light to catch the gleam of teeth under his hood. His companion shifted forward until the exit was blocked completely.
“Eyes like ocean,” the first said. “Girl. Fifteen, sixteen? From Stoneyfield.”
With dismay I leaned against the cool stone beside the doorway. Word must have gotten out about my foster parents’ hut. It had been an accident. Lily and Garth had gotten out in time, but it didn’t matter. Their home, ash. The long-held suspicions, confirmed.
“I don’t want to die,” I whispered.
The cloaked man began to laugh. “Die? Talking isn’t die. My king, he honors blue mage. Not stupid like Dragerian king. Magic is magic and who cares where from.”
With that, he lifted the hood.
He was a rain-forsaken Carthesian. Blue and purple lines of a nonsensical tattoo covered half his face. No wonder he’d worn a cloak—every guard in the city and every noble besides would have come to kill him had he shown those tattoos. The Carthesian tribes had raided Drageria since before time. Stoneyfield wasn’t on the border, but it was far enough north that ambitious tribes raided it once a generation. First One knew I wouldn’t talk to any of them.
His friend had pushed back his hood as well, revealing an identical tattoo. Both sported close-cropped dark hair and dark eyes, but the speaker was taller. He took a step forward.
“Stay back!” I yelled.
He froze. “Fear? No fear. Honor. My king—”
“Carthesia doesn’t have a king,” I said. I’d heard the rumors, though, that the desert tribes had united. They had even gotten the banished dragons to join them. Before he could argue, I added, “Even if it did, I’m not an ox-brain. I’m not going to the desert with you.”
He chuckled again and took another step. My heart began to pound so loud I was surprised no one heard it on the other side of the wall.
“Peace—”
“Peace? When you started a war?” I said.
He took another step.
My heart beat faster. “Stop! I won’t go—”
He stopped. So did I. For I’d thrown up my hands and, around my fingers, blue fire twisted.
I had no blighted idea how I was doing it.
“Shhh,” the Carthesian said. Then he spoke something in a harsh tongue to his companion. “Think. What Drageria give you? If you no come, with me, then where do you go?”
“Wherever I want,” I said, but it wasn’t true. Nobles killed halfblooded babies. It was doubtful they’d welcome one as an adult. The speaker, and his buddy, slid another step forward. “I said stop!”
A crate beside me burst into blue ash. A smell like scorched sewage wafted from the remains.
Red sparkles appeared between the Carthesians and me, like a curtain. I waved my hands at it, but the blue flames vanished instead
