Light The Fire: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Her Elemental Dragons Book 0)
Light The Fire
A Her Elemental Dragons Prequel
Elizabeth Briggs
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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
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Also by Elizabeth Briggs
Chapter One
The giant brazier flared bright, beckoning me closer. I picked up a scrap of bark and a pointed piece of obsidian from the nearby pile as I considered the flickering flames, along with my future. While a man beside me debated what to write with a frown, I quickly carved my wish on the tiny bit of wood. When I was finished, I read the words once before sending the bark into the fire, where it blackened and curled almost immediately and soon turned to ash and flame. As the Fire God accepted my offering I bowed low and said a small prayer that he’d grant my wish and give me guidance, before I turned back to the celebration. Not that I expected him to answer, of course. But it was tradition.
The center of Sparkport was packed tonight with nearly everyone in the village crammed into its town square. Torches lit up the darkness, adults made wishes at the brazier, and children pranced across the dirt road flying red dragon kites in the air. Fire dancers performed on a stage nearby, their flames leaving trails of light as they twirled in time to the lively music. I moved through the crowd toward one of merchant stalls lining the road, brushing past people in their finest clothes who were dancing together or eating special treats.
The Fire Festival was one of the five celebrations in honor of the Gods and the Dragons, and here in the Fire Realm it was the biggest holiday of the year. My family had been preparing our bakery’s stall for weeks, while my sisters and I had spent months sewing our gowns. Mine was a flame red dress with a black lace trim that hugged my body in a way that turned a few heads. An obsidian pendant that belonged to my mother rested between my full breasts, and my blond hair had been tied up with red and black ribbon, though some wispy hairs had already escaped it.
I approached my family’s stall with its familiar scent of warm bread and baked sugar. My mother stood inside it, offering one of our signature mini volcano cakes to a child and her father. My older sister Krea was putting out more chocolate-coated flame cookies, while our youngest sister Loka was sneaking one of the fried crab cakes into her mouth. I arched an eyebrow at her and she wiped her mouth with an impish grin.
“Welcome back, Calla,” Mom said with a smile. “Did you make a wish?”
“I did. Has it been busy?” I asked, as I stepped behind the stall to join them.
"Very," Mom said. "We're going to run out of those volcano cakes before midnight at this rate."
"All because of Krea’s hard work,” I said.
"Thank you,” my older sister replied, ducking her head so her pale hair partially covered her face. “I had no idea they'd be so popular."
Krea was the one who had come up with the design for the tiny domed chocolate cakes filled with strawberry cream, then topped them with frosting to look like lava. She had true artistic talent, while Loka prided herself on finding the most delicious combinations of food—usually by tasting them herself. Together they would make my mother proud when they took over the bakery. And me? I could bake, certainly, but I didn't have the talent for making pastries beautiful like Krea, and I didn't have the knack for coming up with new recipes like Loka. I'd likely find myself serving customers in the front of the shop my entire life—or I’d be passed off to help my future husband with whatever his trade was.
I wished I had a talent like my sisters, but so far nothing had emerged. I was passably good at many things—sewing, baking, candle making—but an expert in none. Instead I preferred to spend my time reading, but books were in short supply in a small town like Sparkport and scholars were not exactly in demand here either. I had no idea what my future would hold, but now that I was twenty years old I supposed it was time it got started.
As I idly rearranged the boring cheese pastries I'd made—which no one was buying, since they could get them every day in the shop—a loud rumble sounded in the distance from the nearby volcano, Valefire. A moment later the earth trembled under our feet and the crowd murmured and paused until the ground stilled once more. After a few tense seconds, the music started up again and the festival continued on, as if nothing had happened.
"Another earthquake?" I asked, glancing at the tall, flat-topped mountain with its black slopes. Our town was situated in the shadow of Valefire, where the Fire God’s temple stood. We’d always respected the volcano, knowing it could awaken at any time, but none of us truly believed it would. Until last month, when the earthquakes had started to increase in frequency and strength.
"It's simply the Fire God showing his approval for the festival," Mom said.
Loka rolled her eyes. "The Fire God hasn't been seen for hundreds of years."
My mother clucked her tongue. "And this is his way of reminding us he's still watching over us, even if we've forgotten him and abandoned his temple. This is why we must celebrate him on holidays like this."
"And pray the volcano stays dormant," I muttered.
"The volcano hasn't erupted in many lifetimes," Mom said, waving our concerns away. "We’ve always had earthquakes here in Sparkport. There's nothing to be worried about. In fact, you should all go enjoy the festival tonight. I can handle the stall by myself."
"Are you sure?" Krea asked.
"Yes. You’ll make me happy by having fun tonight. The Fire Festival is for the young." She shooed Krea and Loka away with a smile. Loka skipped off immediately with a squeal, while Krea hesitated until her betrothed caught her eye and gestured for her to dance with him.
"I'll stay," I said, as Krea slipped away into the crowd.
Mom patted my arm. "That's kind of you, but you should dance too. Derel looks like he could use a break as well."
I followed her gaze to the stall across from ours, run by the local butcher. Mom waved her hand at Sucy, the wife of the butcher and my mother's best friend. Her son, Derel, stood behind the beef kabobs, lemon shrimp, and meatballs they were selling, which I had to admit looked delicious. Behind him, Derel’s father tended a large pig roasting on a spit, which would be served at the end of the festival to the entire village. We had a giant volcano cake prepared to go with it, filled with strawberries and cream.
Derel’s head turned toward me and he caught me staring at him. I quickly looked away and busied myself in the back of the stall, but the damage was done. It didn’t help that Derel was distractingly handsome either, even if I hated to admit it. He had the rich dark skin of his grandparents, who’d moved here from the Earth Realm, with deep brown eyes and gorgeous full lips. Not that I’d spent time much staring at his lips before. Definitely not.
My mother nudged me with her elbow. "Go on, dance with him."
I groaned. "Do I have to?"
"Yes, you do.” She clasped her hands together. “I do wish the two of you would get married already. It's all been planned out for you for years!"
"You’re lucky. When I was younger I thought I’d never find a husband in this tiny village. If your father hadn't moved to town I'd probably still be alone. I tried to make it easier on you and your sisters by promising you to others as children. Krea and Parin will soon be married. Next it should be you and Derel."
I rolled my eyes. "I doubt Loka will want to marry the man you chose for her."
"Well, I had no idea she'd prefer women or I’d have chosen her a nice wife.” She suddenly straightened up. “Oh, here he comes. Be nice." She shuffled away and busied herself at the stall next to ours by offering the chandler some cookies, leaving me to face Derel alone.
As he approached I felt a sense of dread, but also excitement. The Fire Festival made the night feel like anything was possible, even something magical. Like me and Derel getting along for five minutes.
"Care to dance?" he asked in the least convincing voice ever.
I gave him a sickly sweet smile. "With you? Not really."
"Trust me, I’m only here because my mother insisted."
I glanced at my own mother, who gave me a big smile and nodded eagerly. I could practically see visions of dark-skinned grandchildren dancing through her head. "Fine, I’ll dance with you. Only because my mother will never stop pestering me until I do."
He took my hand in his strong grip and led me into the square to join the other dancing couples. This dance was an upbeat one, and we switched off clasping hands and spinning and twirling until my heart beat fast and I was almost—almost—having a good time with Derel. It didn’t hurt that he was an excellent dancer either.
When the music slowed he clasped my hand and pulled me close against his toned body. "Is your mother pressing you to get married like mine is?"
"Always." Though arranged marriages had fallen out of fashion generations ago—much to my mother’s dismay—from the time Derel and I were born we’d been promised to each other, whether we liked it or not. And trust me, we did not. The worst part was that if we hadn’t been forced together at every opportunity and told how perfect we were for each other, maybe we would have gotten along and fallen in love in our own time. Now we would never know.
"Maybe we should just do it already to get them off our backs,” he said, as his hand slowly smoothed down my back.
I let out a sharp laugh to hide how shocked I was at his words, and how much I didn't hate the idea when it came from him. Too bad I knew he wasn’t serious. How could he be? We hated each other—always had, always would. "Is that your version of a romantic proposal?"
"I’m going for practical, not romantic. But if romance is what you want..." His smoldering eyes met mine in a way that made my breath catch, especially as he pulled me tighter against him. My gaze dropped to his sensual mouth and I thought, not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss him. As his fingers curled around my chin and he looked at me in the same way, I knew he was thinking about it too.
I shook my head to break the spell he’d cast over me. "Definitely not. I’m never going to marry you."
Was that disappointment flashing across his face before it returned to his normal, disinterested look? Surely not. "Probably for the best. We’d break poor Falon’s heart."
"Falon?" I laughed. "Only because you’d spend less time with him if you were married."
He gave me a look dripping with disdain. "If that’s what you think then you’re more clueless than I thought.”
My smile fell. "What is that supposed to mean?"
“Nothing.” Derel shook his head.
Was he suggesting Falon had feelings for me? That was certainly news to me. Falon was our best friend, the one thing in common we had besides our parents, but he’d never been anything more—much to my dismay.
“This dress you have on is quite alluring,” Derel said. “Are you sure you’re not looking for a proposal tonight?”
“Maybe I am, but not from you.” None of the men I wanted would propose to me tonight, so it didn’t really matter. But I definitely hadn’t worn this for Derel, of all people. “What did you mean about Falon?”
He idly touched the lace at my neck. “The quality is quite fine. Let me guess, Krea made it?”
“No, I did.” I shoved against his chest, stepping away from him. I knew he was purposefully baiting me to change the subject, but he always knew exactly how to get under my skin and I couldn’t help but respond. “Why are you always so impossible?”
His lips quirked up in a wry smile. “You just bring out that side of me, I suppose.”
Chapter Two
When the song ended, Derel took my hand and led me over to Falon, who sipped something hot and steamy from a metal cup. Falon was just as handsome as Derel but in an entirely different way. Where Derel was lithe and toned, Falon was broad and muscular. While Derel was dark, Falon was bright. When Derel was rude, Falon was kind.
"It's your turn," Derel said to Falon. "I'm done dancing with her."
"And so gracious about it," I muttered.
"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it." He gave me one last smoldering look before stalking back to his parents' stall.
"Shall we dance?" Falen asked with a smile, offering me his hand.
My nerves instantly calmed as I entwined my fingers with his. "I'd like that."
Falon led me back into the square amid the other revelers. He rested his hand on my waist, but kept his distance from me. I tried not to hide my disappointment, especially after Derel had sparked the idea in my head that Falon might have feelings for me. But that was ridiculous. Falon and I had been friends ever since his family had moved to our village when he was five, but there had never been anything more between us. Unfortunately.
Falon's family worked as carpenters, and his strong, rough fingers felt good against my own. He was a large man, the kind who'd gained his muscles working long hours, and I wished he would pull me against his chest like Derel had done. I'd secretly harbored feelings for Falon for years, but he'd never shown even a hint that he saw me as anything more than a friend. If only he would give me a sign he wanted more, maybe we could ease the awkwardness between us. But he never did.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, making my heart skip a beat. “That dress is lovely.”
“Thank you. Krea designed it for me, although I all the sewing,” I admitted. Unlike Derel, Falon didn’t judge me or tease me. I could tell him anything.
“No doubt the Fire God will smile upon your efforts. Did you throw a wish in the brazier?"
"Of course. Did you?"
He nodded. "What did you wish for?"
I gave him a teasing smile as I played with the collar of his shirt. "You know we're not supposed to tell."
"Oh, come on. We're best friends. Surely you can tell me what you wished for."
There it was. Best friends. That was how he saw me, and that would never change. "Definitely not."
His blue eyes danced with amusement. "Let me guess. You wished for love."
"Love?" I said, with a short laugh.
"That's what everyone wishes for."
"Not me. I asked the Fire God to show me what my path should be. To give me a hint about my role in this town and what I should do with my life." I tilted my head. "What about you? Did you wish for love?"
"No, of course not," he said a little too quickly, before looking away. "I wished for the same thing as you, pretty much. To have a good future."
"Uh huh." I smiled at him. "Who's the lucky lady you have your eye on?"
"There's no one." He fingers tightened around my waist. "You're the only lady I ever spend time with, after all."
That was true. But if he'd wished for love and I was the one he wanted to be with, why didn't he just tell me so? Was he worried about Derel? He must know I could barely stand to be in Derel’s presence, even if my body was physically attracted to him at times. Or was Falon concerned we'd ruin our friendship? Or that I didn't feel the same for him?
; Maybe he needed a little hint as to my feelings. I pressed my lips to his cheek as the song ended. "It's okay if you did wish for love, you know."
He turned his head toward me, so that my mouth nearly touched his own. I felt both of us breathing heavily, locked in a close embrace that had somehow shifted from friendly to more. I slid my fingers up into his short blond hair while he looked at me in a new way and opened his mouth. Hope rose up in my chest that he might finally confess his feelings, but then a hand landed on my shoulder and ruined the moment.
"My turn," a low voice said.
I looked up at Blane in surprise as he swept me into his arms in a lover's embrace, so different from the way Falon had been holding me and even more intimate than the way Derel had danced with me. I should have pushed him away or told him to stop, but instead I found my traitorous arms sliding around his neck and my heart racing as we began to dance. I glanced back at Falon, who gave me a friendly smile and a nod, before the crowd swallowed us up.
"When did they let you out of jail?" I asked Blane, mainly to distract myself from the way he felt. And smelled. And looked. Everything about Blane was irresistible, from the sexy drawl of his voice, to his dark tousled hair, to his tall, muscular body. And trust me, I’d tried to resist.
“Jail” was really the basement of the chandler's house, since Sparkport was too small to have an actual prison and Blane was the only person who was ever thrown into it on a regular basis. Usually by Derel and Falon, who acted as the town guard on most nights.
"This morning," Blane said, with a roguish grin. "Falon took pity on me. He didn't want me to miss the Fire Festival, after all."
"What was it this time?"