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

Every candle in my chambers is still lit when Iisak alights on my windowsill. I’m sure he has a note from Grey, but I have no desire to read it. I almost wish he hadn’t appeared tonight. My thoughts flicker between desire and loyalty, and I doubt I’ll be good company. Books and papers are spread across my chaise lounge, and a half-eaten platter of sugared fruits sits by my side.

“The hour is late,” says the scraver. “I expected to find you asleep.”

I don’t look up at him. “Did you? Truly?”

He ignores my sarcasm. “Yes. Truly.”

“I’m reading about Iishellasa. Why did the magesmiths leave while the scravers remained behind?” I peer over at him. “Why were the magesmiths not bound by a treaty?”

He ignores my questions. “You seem unsettled, Princess.”

“I’m not.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I wonder if he will accept my lie.

Because I am unsettled. I’ll probably die locked in this room. I sometimes wonder if my mother has forgotten about me. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered escaping Rhen’s castle. I certainly would have spared myself a dose of heartache.

I swallow past the thickness in my throat and look down at the papers. “About the magesmiths and the scravers. Do you know why?” I tuck an errant lock of hair behind my ear. A tear drips off my cheek to land on the documents, and I quickly swipe it away.

Iisak eases into the room, but he stops on the other side of the papers to drop to a crouch. I can feel the weight of his gaze, but I keep my eyes down.

I wait for him to pry, but he taps a finger on the papers.

“A magesmith cannot be identified by sight,” he says. “And they could cross the Frozen River by virtue of magic instead of flight.” He pauses. “Before the treaty was struck, we could all travel freely, but the people of Syhl Shallow were afraid of the scravers. The magesmiths tried to speak for us, but magic had already become something to fear—and we had no desire to visit harm on Syhl Shallow. Unfortunately, the desires of rulers are not always the desires of the people. Small skirmishes would occur when my people would arrive on your side of the river. A child died.”

I glance up. “A scraver child?”

“A human child.”

Oh. I frown.

“Your mother’s mother demanded restitution. The magesmiths assisted with negotiation. We struck an agreement. The magesmiths confined themselves to Iishellasa for a time, but the ice forests can be treacherous for humans, and they grew restless and sought somewhere new to settle. By that time, your mother had come to power. Karis Luran did not want magic in Syhl Shallow, so they traveled through the mountain pass and eventually settled in Emberfall for a time.”

I stare at him. “Where they were destroyed.”

“Many of them. Yes.” He pauses. “You see why we do not take the treaty lightly, Princess.”

“But now Mother is willing to overlook Grey’s magic.”

“She must want access to these waterways very badly.”

“Hmm.” I look down again. I shuffle the papers back into a pile, then move to the wall to begin extinguishing candles. I did not intend to turn the discussion to Grey.

“You still seem unsettled,” Iisak says, and an ice-cold draft swirls against my face and lifts my hair.

I blow out another candle and move to the next. I wonder if Parrish would let me pass if I set my room on fire.

Before I reach the next candle, frigid wind whips through the room, scattering papers and extinguishing all the candles at once.

I scowl at Iisak and begin scooping the papers back into a pile. “I am pleased to see that Grey and Nolla Verin are getting along so well.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know what I saw.”

“Ah. Shall I tell the prince you have no interest in his latest missive, then?”

My hands go still on the pile of documents. My heart is already jumping in my chest, eager to read his words—but then I think of the smile he shared with Nolla Verin, and my heart plummets with such force that I have to press a hand to my belly. “Yes,” I whisper.

“Princess?”

“I’m not a princess.”

He takes a step toward me, and I put up a hand. “Stop. Please stop. It is not worth it, Iisak. We must end this. What will become of it? My people are at risk if this alliance does not succeed. Are we to exchange secret notes forever?”

He regards me silently, his black eyes glittering in the near darkness.

I swipe away a tear. “This is a betrayal to my sister, Iisak. A betrayal to my mother. A betrayal to my country. I cannot do it. I have done enough wrong. I cannot continue.”

“Wrong!” He hisses, and frost gathers on the windowpanes. “Princess, do you realize that you alone have brought this alliance to pass? If Syhl Shallow and Emberfall swear allegiance, it is because of your efforts to achieve peace. Grey was willing to give up his birthright to such an extent that he allowed himself to be strung up and beaten rather than acknowledge it. Yet you were able to convince him otherwise. You, Lia Mara. Do you realize how powerful that is?”

“Powerful! You and Grey keep insisting I have power and strength, when I have none. I am locked in this room. I am an obstacle.”

“You are imprisoned because of your power. How can you not see that?”

“I am imprisoned because my mother wants Grey to be besotted with my sister. How can you not see that?” He inhales to say something, but I put up my hand. “No, Iisak. I am done. I cannot continue. I will watch from my window, and I will wish them well when they leave to march on Emberfall tomorrow.”

He studies me in the shadowed darkness. “It is his final letter, Princess.”

That forces me still. I should refuse again.

Oh, I can hardly fool myself.

Lia Mara,

I should be doing all of this for the people of Emberfall. For the people of Syhl Shallow, even. I should be undertaking all of this to achieve peace and stability. I desire those things, of course, but what drives me is that you desire these things.

I cannot bear the thought of you locked away. Your mother wields you like a weapon against me—and it is working. I tread carefully to ensure this accord proceeds toward peace, and not toward the destruction of Emberfall.

But I would abandon it all, Lia Mara. We are to leave in the morning. I was not trained as a prince. I was trained to be a weapon at the hand of another. I can do that again, for you.

Do you long for escape? Or shall I continue along this path?

Give the order and I will obey.

Yours,

Grey

My eyes close, and I press the letter to my chest. I remember his eyes in the hallway of that inn in Blind Hollow, the low rasp of his voice when we were both exhausted, but he neglected sleep to guard my door. Fear not. No one will touch you again.

He would give all this up to rescue me.

Because of everything I believe, I can’t ask him to.

Iisak is watching me. “Shall I tell him anything?”

Emotion grips my throat again. I straighten my robes and refuse to allow any further tears to fall. “Tell him to be a great king.”

I cannot sleep. Horrific visions haunt my thoughts. My sister going off to war, sliced in two by a guard from Emberfall. Grey riding into battle, overtaken by dozens of soldiers who drive their blades into him faster than he can heal. Shadows crawl across my wall into the early morning hours as I toss and turn, tangling my bedsheets. When a faint scratching sounds at my window and a shadow fills the frame, I am equally relieved and irritated.

“Iisak—” I begin, but the figure unfolds from the window frame. No wings. Not a scraver—a man. My heart jolts and stutters, and I suck in a breath, slipping out of bed to back away.

“Be at ease, my lady.”

Oh. Oh. “Grey,” I whisper. My chest tightens, and my throat swells. I press my hands together in front of my mouth.

He moves forward to stop in front of me. His long fingers brush the tears off my cheeks. “Do not cry,” he says, his voice lovely and deep.

His eyes are intent on mine, longing and uncertainty sparking there in the depths of his gaze.

Every word I said to Iisak is forgotten now that Grey is here, sharing the same air I breathe.

I glance at the window. “Iisak said he cannot bear the weight of a man. How—how did you—how?”

“He can bear the weight of a rope. And I can climb.”

My heart refuses to stop fluttering. “It is three stories!”

His lip quirks. “Ah … I didn’t look down.”

“But—the palace guards—”

“Please.” He gives me a look.

I stare up at him and want so many things. I want to kiss him again. I want to feel his fingers against my skin. I want to whisper secrets around a campfire. I want the world to narrow down to me and him and nothing else.

Everything I want goes against everything my country needs.

“You said you would obey my order,” I finally say.

“I cannot be a great king if I leave my allies imprisoned.”

I frown and take a step back. “You cannot rescue me. Grey—too much is at stake.”

“I feel as though we both need rescuing, Lia Mara.”

The torment in his expression mirrors what I feel. I press my fingers to my eyes. “You should leave.”

“Do you truly want me to?”

No.

I can’t say it. I don’t need to say it. He doesn’t move.

“We are too bound by honor and duty,” he says. “It seems a cruel trick of fate to bring us together.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” I whisper.

“Hmm. Does that make any of this feel easier?”

I swallow. “No.”

“The hour is quite late,” he says. “I should not have disturbed your sleep.”

“I don’t mind.” The words are bold, and inappropriate, and all I am doing is inviting further pain and regret. I simply cannot help myself. I want to lean into him and inhale his scent.

“I would rescue you,” Grey says. “If you would allow it.”

My eyes snap open. I don’t even remember closing them. He is so close.

“Grey …”

“Everyone else seeks to manipulate me,” he says. He breathes a sigh. “There is no one here I can trust.”

That startles me out of my swooning. “I thought you were well on your way to trusting Nolla Verin.”

“Your sister seems more eager to see if she can kill me than anything else.”

“She could not best you.” I turn away, thinking of my coquettish sister. “Trust me, you have her attention.”

He catches my waist, pulling me still, pulling me close. His dark eyes bore into mine. “Do I have yours?”

The room is so still and quiet, and his patience seems eternal, because he holds me there until the tension slips out of my body and I nod. “Yes,” I whisper. “You do.”

He leans in, his lips brushing mine with the weight of a butterfly, and my breath catches.

“Yes?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

When he kisses me again, it’s even slower, gentle and strong all at once, his hands holding me upright. My fingers clutch at his jacket, pulling him closer, until his body is against me, warm and solid against my sleeping shift. I feel as though I’m flying—or drowning. Warmth surges through my chest and lights a fire in me.

Finally, I pull away. Too many lives are at risk, on both sides of our border. “Grey. You can’t rescue me. You can’t.”

He goes still. “I could have you down the rope in minutes. I know the pattern of the guards.”

My heart thrills a little too much at that suggestion. “No.” I draw back. “Peace with Emberfall is too important. You cannot.”

“As you say.” He seems to steel himself, his eyes shutting down the way they do when he must be violent.

I don’t like him doing that with me. I was trained to be a weapon at the hand of another.

I pull him closer. “No, Grey. No.” I brush my fingers over his cheeks, his eyelids, then brush my lips against his face. “Do not hide from me.”

He yields to my touch, but I can feel the difference in his body now.

“You cannot rescue me,” I say again, so softly that the words feel imagined. “But perhaps … for a while … you could stay.”