Hellfire and Honey, page 1
HELLFIRE AND HONEY
A.N. PAYTON
HELLFIRE AND HONEY
By
A.N. Payton
Copyright © 2022 A.N. Payton
* * *
Edited by Heather McCorkle.
Cover Design by MiblArt.
All stock photos licensed appropriately.
* * *
Published in the United States by City Owl Press.
www.cityowlpress.com
* * *
For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at info@cityowlpress.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent and permission of the publisher.
To the ones who spent the most time believing in me.
You know who you are.
Contents
Want More City Owl Press Books?
Find Your Next Read
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
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of The Night’s Chosen
Find Your Next Read
Want More City Owl Press Books?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
Additional Titles
Want More City Owl Press Books?
Click here to sign up for the City Owl Press newsletter and be the first to find out about special offers, including FREE book days, contents, giveaways, cover reveals, and more!
* * *
Sign up now and become a City Owl Reader today! And join our City Owl Reader-Author group here for even more deals and a whole lot of community and fun!
Don’t miss book two of the Eternal Alliances series coming soon, and find more from A.N. Payton at www.anpayton.com
* * *
Until then, discover THE NIGHT’S CHOSEN, by City Owl Author, E. E. Hornburg!
Chosen of the Moon Goddess. Destined to rule. Fated to marry.
A quest to save her family, kingdom, and heart.
For the past five years Princess Eira has run from her impending wedding. As much as she loves her goddess and kingdom, she’s searched the kingdoms for another way to rule as queen someday while also choosing her own husband.
Yet, Eira’s claim to the crown falls into jeopardy when her father, King Brennus, is poisoned and fated to a sleep of living death and Eira is next on the assassin’s hit list – who happens to be her stepmother, Queen Amelia.
After Eira escapes Queen Amelia’s clutches she journeys to the northern Paravian mountains in search of an enchanted cup to save her father.
Her quest is more than she anticipated with evading Queen Amelia’s guards, traveling with the one man she shouldn’t be with, and having to bargain with the ancient dragon guarding the enchanted cup.
She’ll have to decide how to save her family and kingdom, even if it means sacrificing her heart and all she’s wanted her whole life.
READ NOW
Chapter One
The battle hammer cut through the air in front of me. I spun away and an unpleasant breeze brushed my face in its wake. I waited for the sharp whip of fear, but exhaustion left only static in my head and an ache in my hands.
My opponent’s muscles bulged as he lifted his hammer. I moved again, and the weapon plunged into the dirt. Perhaps he didn’t recognize me in the darkness, or surely his strikes would be more accurate.
The vampire swung the hammer as though it were weightless. He was fast—too fast. Sweat soaked through my dress and cooled my skin. My lungs cried, but there was no time to catch my breath.
I dodged another swing. He was rested, fresh. I was not. He swung. I moved. Again. Again.
A swatch of silver moonlight escaped its cloudy prison. A beam of light illuminated our battleground, revealing the flicker of recognition in his eyes.
“Princess Salvatore.” His growl of my name carried a distinct promise. New motivation bled the vampire’s eyes from black to silver. He wanted to feel the life leave my body and carry news of my defeat to his king.
Armed with fresh resolve, his strikes quickened. Inhuman speed blurred his hammer and I narrowly avoided the attacks. The metallic edge of blood pooled in the back of my throat. He didn’t give me an opening to slice with my sword and exhaustion threatened to drag me down. A few more swings and my head would be crushed against his hammer like meat on a butcher’s block. The war would be over – my people defeated.
The last of my magic churned in my chest. I hoped I wouldn’t need it for this fight, but the raining of cold iron around my head argued otherwise. I poured power onto the battlefield and my magic hunted for its prey.
The sneaking tendrils found the vampire. They wound around his legs, licking his skin and savoring the taste. The magic was savage, hungry, but I forced it to slow. If I worked the power too fast, he would feel it and flee. Too slow and his strikes would finally find me.
He swung the iron block and I sidestepped too late. His hammer crashed onto my sword. The force jarred my arms, and a cascade of glass splinters flowed down my shoulders. The hit emptied my lungs and locked me in place.
Leisurely, and with a faint smile, the vampire lifted the hammer again and aimed at my head.
The pattern of battle narrowed the world to a pinprick, this moment, the trajectory of the weapon toward my undefended face.
His hammer arched overhead, death in his eyes.
I pulled on my magic and pain stabbed me as power rushed from the depths of my soul. The twisted strands locked around the vampire’s legs, arms, neck, and head. With a final heave that tugged the last wisps of power from my body, I hardened the magic coils to chain and drove them into the ground. The vampire’s face twisted and he fought me, but his ability to block magic was weak. I dug the chains deeper and deeper into the dirt. His arms froze above his head and his knees locked. He shook with the struggle against my power and the weight of the hammer he couldn’t drop.
“You have not won.” The words came out flat as he struggled to shape his lips. “Our King will soon wear your blood.”
“That sounds uncomfortable,” I said.
My sword hung heavy in my aching hands, but the bite of victory was sharp. I heaved my weapon from the ground and stepped close. The vampire tried to burn me with his gaze, but my magic held him immobile. The sword slipped through his stomach and under his ribs. I found his heart and for a moment, we stared at each other with an unfortunate understanding. He had tried to kill me, but I killed him instead.
I cut through his heart and the silver bled from his eyes. My magic slipped away and the body fell to the ground.
With a ragged breath, I lifted the sword and sliced off his head. Some vampires could heal heart wounds.
The rush of battle faded. I staggered to my feet, one hand clenching my stomach, and spat bile and blood into the grass. My magic was almost gone, exhausted from a full night of fighting. It had already started to recharge, but would take hours to reach maximum strength.
“Took you long enough.”
I jumped.
The old man stepped from a tree’s shadow, cast by the moon overhead. His sword rested on one shoulder and his armor sported dents and divots, hits taken from hammers, swords, and axes. Zavier’s body, though aged, remained toned and athletic. He smiled, but I knew he was not amused.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you expect my fifth kill to look as effortless as my first?”
“For a moment I thought he had bested you,” Zavier said. So had I, but admitting that would make Zavier march me straight back to the castle. “Five tonight? You must be exhausted.”
“I don’t feel great.” Knots nestled in my shoulders and aches in my fingers suggested a fracture or two. The sharp taste of vomit lingered in my throat.
“Did you heal?”
“Is that a joke?” Zavier knew my magic didn’t possess healing capabilities.
“Maybe.”
“I didn’t think you knew what those were.”
“Always such wonderful compliments from my Princess.”
“I live to serve. What’s the battle report?”
Zavier’s smile slipped away.
“Our scout team engaged a force of two hundred vampires. Reinforcements from our kingdom arrived within twenty minutes. We lost thirty-five soldiers and estimate the enemy lost about the same.”
His
The vampires had lost a similar number. Tonight’s battle was unexpected, but we did well.
Thirty-five dead.
Zavier snapped me from my brooding. “I went to your room to notify you of the battle. Imagine my surprise when you weren’t there.”
I grimaced.
“Imagine your guards’ surprise when you weren’t there. Imagine the chaos that ensued as half of your staff searched the castle until we found the stableboy, who informed your Royal Guard and First Seneschal that you had left with the scouts hours ago.”
“That’s a lot to imagine.”
“Sal, I need an explanation.”
I sighed. I couldn’t explain the failure I’d felt since my parents had disappeared, or the deep-rooted fear that they may have found the cursed Fields of Death and damned us all. Every decision I made carried my kingdom closer to the inevitable. I couldn’t explain the restlessness, the call of the battlefield, how much my magic wanted to fight. I certainly couldn’t explain the moments of hesitation wondering if my death was the right answer.
“I don’t have one, Zavier. I needed out. The scouts hadn’t seen anything all day and it should have been safe to go with them. I didn’t expect to find two hundred soldiers on movement to their camp.”
“We are at war. What made you think any scout mission would be safe?”
“Relatively safe.”
“Sal.”
I wanted to shrug off his criticism, but duty and responsibility reeled me back. I wrestled away from youthful urges of defiance. Zavier served as my First Seneschal, my closest advisor and second-in-command. He deserved an apology, as much as I could muster.
“I’m sorry, Zavier. I’m sorry that I disappeared and worried you.”
He tipped his head. “Thank you, Princess.”
Zavier held out his hand and I placed my sword hilt onto his palm. He fished a cloth from under his armor and ran it over the blade.
“You need a healer.” He continued his systematic brushes across the metal. The motions betrayed a quiver though. His knuckles paled as he gripped the rag too tight. His lips pressed into a thin line.
There was more, something he wasn’t telling me.
“Say it.”
He remained silent.
“Zavier, what happened?”
My First Seneschal didn’t look up from the sword.
“Three thousand more soldiers were reported joining the camp,” he said.
“Our scouts didn’t see them?”
“Not in time to gather our forces. The spies said they came from a back valley pass.”
Thirty-five soldiers had given their lives in a well-fought battle. For nothing.
“These two hundred were a diversion. They kept us busy over here and snuck through a different way,” I said.
“Yes.”
“And we fell for it.” I clenched my aching, broken fingers into a fist. The pain fed the coiling snake of anger inside me. Stupid, stupid. My father would have seen this coming. The serpent of rage stretched higher, ready to strike. Where could he be that was more important than here, with our people? “They waved a red flag at us, and we ran straight into it, like an angry bull.”
“Yes, Princess. We did.”
I clenched my teeth.
“There’s more,” Zavier said.
Of course there is.
“King Kadence was seen marching with his men into camp.”
Great. The elusive King Kadence Hendrick of Vari Kolum hadn’t been spotted since his parents died almost two decades ago, leaving their eight-year-old king of the vampires. His presence was an announcement of the vampires’ assured victory.
The ground looked comfortable, inviting, and I wanted to sink into it and fall asleep. I didn’t want to hear what Zavier would say next. I catalogued my injuries to prolong the inevitable. My fingers throbbed in a numb way that meant I had ignored the pain for too long. My arms were heavy, my back sore.
“Princess, I’m afraid our options are limited,” Zavier said. “Do you remember what we talked about weeks ago? When it was obvious the vampires were establishing a siege camp and instead of the usual raids and battles?”
We had talked about a lot of things. Strategy, movement, statistics, personnel, and supply numbers. Everything had changed since then.
But I knew what he meant. I remembered the conversation as clearly as I had felt my blade plunge through the vampire’s heart.
“Yes.”
“I think it’s time to utilize that strategy.”
“How do you know?”
He handed me my sword, hilt first.
“First we find a medic, then I’ll show you,” he said.
Chapter Two
Dread had stolen a physical form and taken residence in my valley. Perched on the highest vantage point outside Ededen’s walls, Zavier and I observed the enemies below.
Beyond our grassy knoll, a nightmare spread. Campfires pulsed as soldiers pumped through the military encampment, the lifeblood of forces about to claim victory in a two-hundred-year war. Tents popped in neat rows, little pieces in a wartime puzzle. In the far distance, dozens of catapults peeked over the false horizon. Horses' cries drove up the valley slope and I half expected a stampede to swarm us at any moment. Other sounds drifted in the crisp air, honeybee hums of human voices, rich and pleasant. Music chimed, a fast-dancing rhythm that mingled with the pounding in my head.
“What are the statistics?” Looking over the massive camp as it chewed through the space between the mountains, I already knew, but I had to hear.
“The vampire army has doubled our forces. They have three thousand horses, twenty catapults and supplies on hand to last over three months. Their supply routes are well guarded, and they could acquire more at a moment’s notice,” Zavier said. “Even if we put a weapon in the hand of every capable witch in our kingdom, we would fall before sunrise.”
Our forces would be equal with the vampires if my parents hadn’t run away with half our army. But then, Zavier and I wouldn’t be shivering on an exposed hillside, tired and injured from battle, counting vampires by the thousands.
“How long can we hold for a siege?”
Zavier stroked his beard. “The catapults would break our walls in a matter of hours. We would evacuate to the castle, where the smaller space could be defended better with magic. They would have to hold as a true siege.”
“How many can fit in the castle?”
“Two hundred, on a good day.”
That left thousands of people to die outside my doors.
“The siege would be awful,” Zavier continued. “We have plenty of supplies, but our sewage and water system won’t handle the stress. People would get sick, die, and the morgue would be overrun. Bodies would rot and disease would be rampant. We could survive two weeks.”
Hope fled. We were done. My kingdom and my people would be crushed, and I would lead them to it. The enemy stared up from the valley and pierced my soul, but a shred of relief escaped the wound. Anxiety and fear loosened their grip on me for the first time since my parents ran away six months ago. I had tried everything, had fought and bled for my country, and still failed.
