A Heart So Fierce and Broken (The Cursebreaker Series Book 2)

I am no stranger to finery and elegance. In Emberfall, Ironrose Castle is filled with marble and polished wood. Here, Karis Luran’s palace is lined with crystal and stone, with glass everywhere. The clothes we are given are of the highest quality: brushed calfskin leggings, polished black boots with leather laces, tunics and jackets lined with silk and edged with brocade. Instead of green and black adorning the garments, which I expected, everything is trimmed in gold and red, the colors of Emberfall.

Our weapons have been returned to us, and while it’s made to look like a show of trust, I know it’s not. We are heavily outmanned here in the palace. We will be watched wherever we go.

I would give anything for the black uniform from my days in the Royal Guard, to have knife-lined bracers on my forearms and armor at my back. I would give anything to be invisible once again. In this fancy room with a glass wall looking out over a glass city, I feel like a beast in a cage. Noah, Jake, and Tycho all watch me. Waiting.

Waiting on me.

My heart is a steady thrum in my chest. I don’t know how to do this.

This is different from when we were in the woods. Different from when I’d tell Tycho what horses to pull for the tourney. Different from when I was a guardsman.

As commander, I could give orders almost without thought. I know where to position guards, how to survey a crowd, how to determine who might hide a weapon or who might deserve greater scrutiny.

Lia Mara would know how to proceed. She was raised to be a queen—and it was stripped from her. As Prince Grey, I have been thrust into a role for which I am wholly unprepared.

Much like Harper, I realize. She stepped into the role of princess as if she’d been born to it. She made a good match for Rhen, relying on her wits instead of a lifetime of preparation.

Rhen always planned his moves out in advance. He was never comfortable thinking on his feet. But Harper was. She was often reckless and unconventional in her methods, but she would make a decision and act on it without hesitation.

I can do that, too. Guardsmen never have the luxury of advance notice.

I look at the others. “Karis Luran wants to use me against Prince Rhen. That is the only leverage we have here.” I pause. “It is very little. Despite what happened in Blind Hollow, Rhen has been the crown prince since I was a child. His people know him. He rallied them once. Despite what is happening in Emberfall, he can rally them again. I have little doubt.”

“He rallied them based on an alliance with Disi,” says Jake. “And there is no alliance.”

“That’s going to break some major trust,” says Noah. “The people already suspect something is amiss.”

I glance at him. “Yes. There are no armies—and Karis Luran knows this.”

“You have magic,” Tycho says softly.

I flex my hand and look at my fingers. “But I have no armies. No crown. I have magic in my blood, but so far I have little talent for using it.”

“I don’t think saving the lives of a dozen people counts as little talent,” says Noah.

“Karis Luran will not be impressed by the preservation of lives. She knows I was not raised as royalty. She knows I was a guardsman. She will expect me to yield and obey. She expects to use me as a pawn against Emberfall.” I stop to collect my thoughts. “If I refuse to play along, she could refuse to offer sanctuary. Worse, she could hand us over to Rhen.”

“Well,” Noah drawls, “I don’t think it’s as bleak as all that.” I look at him, and he runs a hand across his jaw. “Well, Rhen won’t work with her. He wouldn’t negotiate with Lia Mara, and he was ready to kill you. I don’t know that he’d leap into an alliance at this point—and she wouldn’t have been seeking one if she didn’t need it badly. And no matter how he feels about Harper, he’s definitely not going to risk his kingdom for Jake’s life. We’re not as powerless as you think we are.”

I glance away. “Perhaps not. But I have no followers. I have no … no subjects. Parts of Emberfall may be rebelling against Prince Rhen, but some parts will not. He may not be able to raise a full army, but he has subjects who are sworn to him. Who will fight for him.”

Tycho leaves his spot by the wall. He draws his sword.

“What are you doing?” I say.

He stops in front of me and, without hesitation, drops to one knee.

“Tycho,” I say, my voice ragged. “Stop.”

He lays the sword on the stone floor, then presses his hands together in front of his face. His eyes are intent and earnest. No uncertainty exists in his expression—only calm determination. “I swear fealty to you, Prince Grey of Emberfall. I swear my heart and my hands and my home, in service to you and in service to the throne. I swear my—I swear to be—” He stumbles over his words and looks aggrieved. “I forget the rest of what I’m supposed to say. But I swear to you.” He swallows, and his expression is an echo of the look on his face when I said I had asked Jake to ride at my side, but he does not falter. “I know I’m just one person, but I will follow you. I will fight for you. I swear to you.”

I should grab his arms, drag him off his knees, and remind him that this is treason. But as I stare down at him, emotion becomes a weight in my chest that will not lighten. This stopped being treason the moment Rhen strung up an innocent boy beside me in that courtyard. My heart has known it all along. My thoughts just needed to catch up.

Tycho is one person, but for so long, that’s all Rhen had, too. I glance at Jake and Noah. I’m not alone here.

“Pick up your sword,” I say to Tycho, and my voice is still rough. “Lay it across your hands. If you will swear, do it as a warrior.”

Guards escort us to the throne room, led by Captain Sen Domo. Sunlight and warmth fill the space, and the windows facing the city must be fifty feet high. I have never seen such panes of glass. The back wall of the throne room is the solid rock of the mountain, deep reds and soft browns shot through with streaks of black and silver and gold. After growing up on a poor farm, Ironrose Castle left me as awestruck as Tycho when I first beheld it, but this is something different entirely. Torches have been set deep into the granite walls, flickering every few feet. A raised dais sits along the stone wall, with two thrones carved from onyx stretching high above their occupants. Guards are everywhere, but the four surrounding the dais are clad differently, their faces half-veiled in steel to make them androgynous, their weapons lighter and less obvious. The Royal Guard of Syhl Shallow.

Karis Luran sits atop the larger of the two thrones, her red hair framing a severe face of sharp cheekbones and cream-colored skin. She does not smile. To her left must be Nolla Verin, and I can see why Lia Mara spoke so highly of her sister’s beauty. The girl is younger than I expected, her jet-black hair twisting in a shiny mass to pool beside her on the throne. Her skin is smooth and pale and perfect, with a pink curve of a mouth and eyes so light a brown that they appear gold.

Eyes that are not warm at all, but are instead calculating, conniving, and cold.

To her left, on a smaller chair set a slight distance apart, sits Lia Mara. After days in the woods, I’d forgotten how her red hair shines in the light, how her lips always look like they are keeping a secret that she’ll share when the time is right. She looks lovely and warm and honest, and I wish with all my might that I could draw her down off the dais to stand beside me.

She will not meet my eyes.

You are a prince, and I am not a princess.

I didn’t fully understand before. Now I do.

Karis Luran stares down at me. “I never thought to look down on a guardsman turned prince,” she says. “Such a turn of events to benefit you.”

The words sound like a compliment, but they are measured and weighed to remind me of my place. Luckily I spent years serving the royal family of Emberfall. I spent an eternity serving Rhen. She can try her best, but I doubt she’d come close to the nonsense I’ve endured.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I say evenly. “I never thought to look at you as a potential ally. How fate bewitches us all.”

She smiles thinly. “You are more polite than your younger brother.”

A jolt goes through me at the word brother, but I know better than to let it show. “Let us blame my common upbringing.”

She laughs out loud at that, and this time her smile looks a bit more genuine. “I think I like you better, too.” Her gaze shifts past me, to where Jake stands by my shoulder. “Is this Prince Jacob of Disi at your side?” she says. “Have you secured an alliance as well?”

I do not know if she is mocking me or trying to see if I would try to con her the way Rhen did, but either way, it does not matter. She suspects the truth—or likely knows the truth, if Lia Mara has spoken of our journey. “Disi was a farce to rally the people of Emberfall against your invasion.”

Nolla Verin gasps out loud and whispers something to her mother.

I keep my eyes on Karis Luran. “Jake is a formidable ally in his own right.”

“Indeed.” She smiles. “We shall see.”

That could mean anything.

“How fares the scraver we traveled with?” I say to her. “What has become of him?”

Her eyes glint with intrigue. “He has broken an accord with Syhl Shallow, Your Highness. He will be confined until I deem it appropriate to meet with him.”

Again, I do not know if she is conceding something by offering me a title, or if she is mocking me—but all I can think of is Iisak, caged again.

“You seem concerned,” says Karis Luran.

“He helped save my life,” I say. “And that of your daughter.” I pause. “I do not know of your treaty, but I believe he is due leniency.”

She flicks a hand. “I will consider your words, but I do not wish to speak of that creature.”

“As you say, Your Majesty.” I offer her a nod.

Her gaze sharpens. Silver hell. A minor deferral, but she noticed.

Her lip curls up slightly. “I am certain you know we have sought an alliance with Prince Rhen.”

“I do.”

“As he is not the rightful heir, I presume we should seek this alliance with you.”

“I am willing to hear your terms.”

“You do realize I have far more to offer you than you have to offer me. I understand you arrived at my border with little more than the clothes on your back.”

“Do you have another heir to the throne of Emberfall who is willing to hear your terms? I thought I might be the only one.”

She goes very still. “Do not play with me, boy.”

I hear the edge in her tone and find my own to match. “I am not Prince Rhen, and I am not King Broderick,” I say. “Whatever sway you held over either does not apply to me. I may have walked into your palace with nothing, but that means I have nothing you can take from me.”

“I can take your life,” she snaps.

“Prince Rhen already tried,” I say. “Send a message to your spy. Ask the result. I will wait.”

She draws herself up, but I am more aware of Lia Mara sitting to the side, her eyes wide and fixed on me. When my eyes flick to hers, she looks away.

I turn back to Karis Luran and take a step toward the dais. “I do not seek silver, and I do not seek power. If I am to take the throne, if I am to ally with Syhl Shallow, it will be for the betterment of my people and the betterment of Emberfall. For no other reason. If you would like to discuss an alliance, we will face each other as equals, and we will negotiate our shared goals. But if you believe you can place a crown on my head and wield me as your puppet, you are very mistaken indeed.”

Karis Luran sits back in her chair and regards me. After a moment she leans toward her younger daughter.

Nolla Verin stands, and she is more slender than her sister, with a slight frame and a narrow waist accentuated by a wide belt. Her hips sway as she approaches me. She may be quick with a bow and amazing on a horse, but she wouldn’t have carried that buck ten feet.

Not just because of strength, though that’s some of it. Because of temperament. Her gaze is coolly dismissive. She might have shot the stag, but she would have ordered others to carry it.

Lia Mara may not be the named heir, but she is still the daughter of the queen. Until now, I hadn’t realized that in all our time in the woods, she never issued one order. She never made a single demand.

She sat in the mud to hold a dying woman’s hand and begged me to save her life.

Nolla Verin extends a hand to me. “I am to be queen,” she says, and even her voice is beautiful, soft and melodic. She leans into me, gazing up through her lashes. “I do not need a king to rule Syhl Shallow, just as you need no queen to rule Emberfall. But I hope that together we can prove to both our peoples that an alliance through marriage would bring peace and prosperity to all. Do you not agree?”

I take her fingers between mine and bow, as I’ve seen Rhen do so many times, barely brushing my lips against the back of her hand. I must be careful with this one. “We are in agreement, my lady.”

When I straighten, she moves closer, until her hip brushes mine. “I believe we should have a small reception tomorrow evening, to celebrate my sister’s safe return. I would like to introduce you to the Royal Houses, so you can learn all Syhl Shallow has to offer.”

Her hand has not slipped free of my own. “I would be honored.”

“And perhaps we can go for a ride tomorrow morning?” Her voice softens. “Privately?”

That feels like a trap. “Perhaps you can show me some of the mounted games you excel at,” I say. “Your sister spoke very highly of your talents.”

At that, Nolla Verin beams. “She did?” She glances at Lia Mara, and for the first time, genuine warmth fills her tone. “Thank you, dear Sister.”

“Of course.” Lia Mara’s voice, by comparison, is wooden. “Everyone knows of your skills.”

I wish she didn’t have to do this.

I wish I didn’t have to do this.

Nolla Verin looks back up at me, then gives my fingers a squeeze. “Until tomorrow, then, Prince Grey?”

“Yes, my lady. Tomorrow.”

It takes every ounce of my strength to keep my eyes on her face, instead of looking past Nolla Verin to find the warm, inviting eyes of her sister.