Solma snaps awake with a yelp and claws the air. The image of Vulkan, the violet-eyed Fire Maker she’d met at Sand’s End last summer, fades and she’s lying on her back, staring at the canvas ceiling of her tent as it shifts in the midnight wind. Just a dream.
She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, waiting for the tremble in her hands to calm. She’s been dreaming about those damn Fire Makers more often lately. Whenever she closes her eyes, she sees flames in their hands, the tattoos above their eyebrows gleaming in the light of their destruction. Those two could be anywhere, and here at Skyheart, Solma can barely keep her brother safe from Norsen and his greed.
So far, Norsen hasn’t fallen for the trap she and Reya set for him. There’s nothing to do but wait and watch. Somewher
