Solara's Dawn (A Song of Sun and Shadow Book 3), page 1
Solara's Dawn
A Song of Sun & Shadow: Book 3
Raven Flanagan
Copyright © 2023 Raven Flanagan
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
Cover design by: Faera Lane
Printed in the United States of America
This book is for everyone who wants to be railed by a guy in a mask
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Solara’s Dawn
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Books In This Series
About The Author
Solara’s Dawn
One
Winter approached rapidly that year. Glittering white blanketed the land in every direction and the trees bowed under the weight of the ice coating their limbs. The first snow had fallen on the kingdom of shadows before I’d packed my belongings for the journey south.
The early winter winds weren’t strong enough to breach the moderate warmth of the carriage. A heavy fur-lined cloak covered my shoulders and delicate gloves protected my fingers. The cold never truly bothered me, but the garments made the uncomfortable ride cozier.
Within the enclosed carriage, I maintained my focus on the needlework in my lap. The jostling as wheels bump over holes in the road made it essential that I didn’t lose my concentration. One wrong move and I’d prick my hand.
I’d hate to bleed on the flowers I’d spent hours stitching.
“Shit.” A swift curse across from me stole my attention. I glanced up at my childhood friend, sucking the tip of her finger into her mouth. Her rose-colored eyes narrowed on her crude embroidery.
“Poke yourself again, Duma?” I chuckled at her expense.
She groaned before tossing the needlework on the carriage floor. It clattered between our feet where she stomped on the pale fabric. I bit my tongue, fighting a giggle.
“This isn’t the poking I want.” Dumara lifted her hand, showing the droplet of red welling on her dark skin.
Blushing at her meaning, I enclosed her fingers in mine.
“We’ll cross the border into Laernear soon. Once we reach the capital, you’ll have your pick of lads eager to please a lady,” I said.
After a breath, I dug into the well of latent warm power within the center of my being. Searching deep, I called on the magic I inherited from my mother. Faint glowing passed through my fingers and glimmering sunlight kissed the wound.
When I pulled my gloved hand away, Dumara’s skin was unblemished once more. She rubbed her fingers together and nodded in thanks. It was nothing impressive for her. She’d grown accustomed to healing magic long ago.
We shared more than our fair share of scraped knees and elbows playing with my sister in our youth. My twin entered the world as a wild thing and running the castle halls with her was asking for trouble. As a result, Mother taught us to heal early on.
Though I doubted my powers would ever compare to Mother’s. It didn’t seem to matter that I carried a wide range of abilities when the Queen could heal soldiers on the cusp of death or villages weakened by sickness.
“I need a body in my bed the night we arrive. Someone tall and strong enough to chase away the chill of a Gwathendor winter.” Dumara wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shimmied. Her eyes closed as she imagined the hypothetical man warming her bed.
“We’re not spending winter in the sun elf capital to avoid the winter back home and engage in depravity,” I teased.
Duma rolled her eyes and dropped her arms. “I know. This visit to your royal Mithran family is enormously important.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “But those sun elf men excel at depravity.”
“That’s the only reason you wanted to join us, isn’t it?” I knew the answer but enjoyed teasing Duma. She loved freely and often. I didn’t blame her for taking an opportunity to travel and experience her bliss.
Duma mock gasped and placed a hand over her heart. “I came because I love my king and my country. With a tour this important, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Her eyes darted around the dark carriage interior as if preparing to share a secret. “Plus, Uncle and Auntie will be wrapped up in the announcement, not monitoring our activities.”
“Our?” I gaped at her like a fish out of water.
I jolted back when she lurched forward. Duma latched onto my hands, grinning from ear to ear. The glint in her eyes made my stomach twist into knots.
“Yes. You’re twenty-five now, Solara. I’d like you to accompany me in my revels this year. It’s about time you experience the delight of a lad eager to please a lady.”
“I can’t. Once Mother and Father depart from the capital for the royal tour, I’m supposed to remain with my Aunt Willow. She’s the current Queen Regent of Laernear and my parents expect me to learn from her now that—”
The words on my tongue hit a barrier. My shaky inhale did nothing to ease the unsettled beat of my heart. A sickening unease crawled over my skin each time the subject arose.
“Now that Nevar abdicated the throne,” Duma finished after a beat of silence. She squeezed my hands reassuringly before releasing them, giving me the chance to slump into the stiff cushion.
“Solara,” Duma started, her voice low but determined, “if you ask me, that’s more reason to enjoy what we can of this trip. The Mithran kingdom of Laernear and the Thanaten kingdom of Gwathendor are uniting. For the first time in centuries, the elves will be one unified people again.”
She nudged my boot, forcing my gaze up.
“That’s why I must learn what I can from Aunt Willow while Mother and Father tour the kingdom. Mithran lords will pledge fealty to their new rulers, and I’m responsible for learning about Laernear’s politics.”
“You are the heir now. That doesn’t mean you can’t have fun,” Duma huffed. The black and red beads decorating the ends of her long silver braids clacked against one another as she shook her head.
My fists clenched in my lap over the forgotten lace and threads. “I am the heir to two kingdoms. My parents worked tirelessly for two and a half decades to end the war and now it’s my turn to do my part, Duma. I don’t have the same freedom as you to engage in frivolities.”
The carriage abruptly rocked around us. Dumara bounced off her seat and landed harshly on her knees. I swayed forward from the sudden motion and reached for her shoulders. As I grabbed her to haul her upright, the carriage pitched wildly.
Outside in the darkness, the bone-chilling crash of another carriage reached me. Horses whinnied in panic and the wood groaned as it cracked apart. My chest tightened uncomfortably at the alarming sounds, and my blood became sluggish in my veins.
The muffled shouting of soldiers on horseback surrounded us. I lowered onto the wooden floor, trembling and clutching at Dumara. Chilling thoughts seized my imagination in the frozen seconds that followed.
An instinct guided my hand, charged by fear for my parent’s wellbeing in their carriage ahead of us. I cracked open the door and the biting chill of the night’s cold nipped at my nose. Deafening shouting and the clamorous clang of steel-on-steel rushed in.
“Can you see?” Dumara whispered, maintaining her hold of me.
The glowing crystals mounted outside the carriages flickered. Purple light glinted off the soldier’s black armor. Flashes of gold darted through the surrounding woods, causing my stomach to drop. A horse and rider charged in front of the door, blocking my view.
“Close the door and remain inside, Your Highness,” the soldier barked. His steel sang when he unsheathed his blade.
“What’s the meaning of this?” I replied.
The soldier angled in the saddle, staring down at me and Dumara through the crack in the door. A prominent frown stressed the lines in his expression as he warred with whether he should answer.
“What of my parents?” I pressed.
“Bandits,” he answered gruffly. Groans of pain and ringing metal reverberated in the night. The soldier glanced up, watching something out of my view. “The King is fighting.”
A thud from the carriage roof vibrated through the wood. Dumara yelped in my ears, crushing me in her arms. The soldier reared back, slashing at someone overhead.
I slammed the door shut once again.
“Bandits?” Dumara shrieked. “They must be Mithran this close to the border.”
I stole a breath when she released me. Her dress rustled behind me with her rapid movement. I shifted around in time to find Dumara lifting the skirts of her black dress. The dim light reflected on the silver dagger strapped to her leg.
“Duma, no.” She pulled the weapon free, and I latched onto her arm. “My father and the guards will handle the bandits. We should remain here where it’s safe.”
Her fingers tightened on the smooth obsidian handle. Lips parted, she hissed, “I am the General’s daughter. I will fight.”
I shrank back as she kicked open the opposite door. It swung wide, smacking against the carriage exterior. The crystal lights weren’t powerful enough to illuminate the surrounding forest. Only shifting shadows revealed the outline of the struggle.
Dumara scooted to the edge, preparing to jump out. At the last second, she peered at me over her shoulder, rose eyes filled with stone-cold resolve. “Nevar would fight.”
“I am not my sister.” The delayed retort evaporated unheard into the air as Dumara leapt from the carriage and vanished into the chaos of the ambush. Shivering, I curled into the corner and hugged my knees to my chest. I closed my eyes against the unwanted tears pricking at the corners.
Bodies slammed against the exterior. Cries of pain echoed through strained groans. Metallic singing from clashing blades filled the former dead silence of the night.
The dreadful weight of guilt brimmed like stones stacked tall in my belly. With each passing second, with each new shout of anguish or cry of rage, another pound of shame pinned me down. The sickening squelch of a weapon rendering flesh and a soldier’s dying gurgle brought up the contents of my stomach.
Acidic bile clawed at the back of my throat. I surged forward, leaning outside in time for my dinner to reappear and splatter on the dirt instead of the carriage interior. I swiped at my bottom lip, and spittle soiled my glove.
Dumara had stated the truth, and it gnawed heavily on my conscience. While she charged into battle with my father and the soldiers, I cowered in the shadows. My twin wouldn’t hide from the fight if she were here.
But Nevar wasn’t there. She was across the world fighting something greater than I’d ever imagined. A monster from without and within.
Despite her current struggle, a flicker of resentment reared in my head. It shouldn’t be me in that position, heading to the capital and trapped in an ambush. It should have been Nevar.
She would have ended the attack already.
A chilling scream cleaved through my shameful thoughts. Ice sliced across my skin and my heart faltered. My head snapped up, staring into the darkness.
Red-orange light flared through the trees. A thunderous boom followed the explosion. A gust of searing air rocked the carriage and blasted my face. Dying men howled in agony as flames seeped under their armor and licked at their flesh.
“Mother? Duma?” I weakly called. Every muscle in my body tensed with a heavy moment of hesitation. Another second passed and the fire in the forest raged higher, splintering the trees.
My stomach heaved again. This time I bit it back, swallowing the sickness. Drifting forward, I climbed from the carriage. My shaking legs wobbled like a newborn deer when they squished in the dirt.
I glanced down, expecting to find a puddle. A gasp tore from me, and I slapped a hand over my lips at the crimson soaking the earth beneath my shoes.
A soldier in Thanaten armor collapsed lifelessly at my feet. His glazed over eyes stared blankly at the star laden sky above. The scream rising to my lips dissolved as a menacing figure emerged from the fire.
Even in the fire’s light, the stranger’s billowing cloak kept him swathed in darkness. The mountainous figure lifted a brilliantly flaming sword and pointed it directly at me in a silent vow.
I had no time for idle contemplation. As much as I despised fighting, my family encouraged the knowledge. Instinct took hold of me as years of sparring lessons kicked into gear.
If it came to it, I’d defend myself. First, I would run.
I flung myself into a sprint. The internal need to hide from danger summoned instinctive magic to the surface. Writhing shadows swept from the darkness, rising into an inky wall between me and the bandit.
If I could reach the bulk of the battle on the other side of the carriage, I might find safety in numbers. I needed my family and our soldiers.
Burning fire singed my shadow barricade when the fire-blade arched through the air. It hissed into wisps of darkness, vanishing into the smoky air with each swipe of the hacking sword.
Instant fear ate away at me. My mind darted through the diverse magic under my influence, yet nothing tangible rose to the surface. Of all the abilities I wielded, knowledge of them fled my mind.
Each breath punched out of me as I scrambled away. My blood coursed thick, and heavy in my veins. The pounding of my heart echoed deafeningly in my ears, effectively muting the triumphant roar of the bandit when he pounced.
Crushing weight knocked the air from my lungs as two powerful arms encircled me. The musclebound frame slammed into me, and the inertia sent us spiraling down. His body squashed mine as we rolled in the dirt, further away from the carriage and nearer to the flaming trees. Oppressive strength flattened my backside into the earth.
I writhed and thrashed with all my might. Pathetic grunts slipped past my lips as I struggled to break free. The bandit chuckled wickedly. He grabbed my flailing wrists in one hand with ease, pinning them above my head.
His weight and strength effortlessly overpowered me. The pressure of his body compressing me into the cool dirt brought a fresh wave of tears flowing from the corners of my eyes. I blinked through them, tipping my head up to the brute holding me down.
Under the cloak I found a bandit in a gilded mask. Flickering light danced off the dips and grooves of the mask, sculpted to mimic the roaring visage of a lion. Curling edges of the mane swirled around his face. Pointed fangs of the beast mask covered his full upper lip. Only his square jaw and bottom lip were exposed.
Everything stretched and distorted around me. The forest fire blurred into an orange haze, and the sounds of battle faded into an unnerving whisper. Only the pulsing of my heart anchored me in that petrifying moment.
He lifted the burning sword over my head, using the flame to illuminate my face. Each heaving breath he took passed over my damp cheek. The fire whisked out without warning, but I didn’t have a second of relief.
Frigid steel pressed to my throat, stealing my ability to breathe. The blade to my neck trembled, balancing on the verge of slicing flesh and stealing my life. Only darkness met my gaze from behind the black eyes of the mask, too dark at this angle to see the soul of the man hesitating to kill me.
His pause gave me an opening to think clearly again. I’d experienced similar positions in training. If I called on the light in my blood, it would come.
A voice broke the fragile tension, surprised, and ragged as he gasped, “Gods, you’re beautiful.”
The bright spark of shock that flared through me ignited a surge of my power. It called the sunlight from deep within me and it exploded outward from my hands.
Blinding golden rays blasted against his chest. The force of which sent him flying far away into the darkness. I didn’t see where he landed and couldn’t afford to wonder.
Without his weight on me, I inhaled again. My lungs filled with the smoky air floating from the burning woods. Dry coughs wracked my shoulders as I rolled over.
On hands and knees, I crawled toward the carriage. At the back wheel, I gripped the wood and hauled myself upright. Someone rushed around the corner, halting at the sight of me.
“My darling. Oh, my daughter.” Mother’s blazing green eyes softened as she approached. Her hands fluttered over me, checking for injuries.
“Mother.” I collapsed into her arms, readily seeking her comfort.
“We’re alright, darling. We’re alright,” she reassured. Her hand smoothed through the red waves of my hair, hushing my sniffles as I clung to her.
