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

Days pass. By the time we draw close to the prince’s castle, I am travel-worn and weary. I still share a carriage with my sister, because the alternative is to share a carriage with my mother. Nolla Verin might not understand my despondency, but she won’t lecture me about the duties of a ruler. She knows why I’m upset—likely everyone knows why I’m upset—but she makes no apology for what happened with the trapper and the girl.

I don’t expect one. I don’t want one. I know why she made the choice she did. I know our mother is proud of the choice she made.

I should be proud as well. I’m not. My thoughts are haunted by the memory of the girl cowering beneath her father.

And the tear-streaked cheeks of the girl hiding in the woods.

I have made no mention of her to anyone. Not even to Parrish. His manner seems unchanged, to the point where I started to believe that I imagined the whole thing. But that night I saw him exchange a quiet word with Sorra, and for a brief moment, her eyes shifted to me and then away.

I do not know what that means.

Nolla Verin pokes me with her embroidery needle, and I jump.

“I need you at your best, Sister,” she says.

I keep my eyes on the veiled window of the carriage. “You don’t need me at all. I can wait with the horses.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Mother should have left me at home,” I continue. After what I’ve seen, I would have preferred it. Despite the sting of our mother’s choice, there’s a touch of freedom to no longer worrying about becoming queen. The weather is cooler on the other side of the mountain, and I could have spent these days lounging in bed with a book. I could have gone for a ride along the lakeside instead of being faced with death and destruction.

These thoughts feel selfish suddenly. Cowardly. The girl and her father still would have died. I just wouldn’t have known about it.

“Please, Lia Mara.”

A new note hangs in my sister’s voice, and it draws my attention. For all her cavalier comments, a bit of uncertainty hides in the depths of her eyes.

“You are nervous,” I say.

She shrugs a bit and glances down at the square of fabric in her lap. Over the course of our journey, embroidered flowers and jewels of every color have filled the fabric to form a circle. “He is still our enemy.” She pauses. “He already has a woman he loves.”

“Nolla Verin.” I study her. My sister is sharp-featured and beautiful, but it is her carefree confidence that turns heads everywhere she goes. “Are you afraid of being rejected?”

“Not me.” She stabs her needle through the fabric. “I am afraid of our proposal being rejected. Mother will be forced to send our armies through the mountain pass to raze cities and take control of this land.”

I stare at her, mouth nearly agape. It is the first time she has ever expressed dismay at military action. A small burst of hope flares in my chest.

She looks at me. “You are so surprised. Did you not think I would fear failing in front of Mother?”

I close my mouth. I should have known better. Nolla Verin does not concern herself with the loss of lives. She is concerned about disappointing our mother.

I need to remove the sour look from my face before she sees it. “I have the utmost faith in you, Sister.”

Outside the carriage, the sound of bells peals out, loud and repetitive. Nolla Verin sits upright, stashing her embroidery in the compartment under her seat. I wonder if it is to be a gift for the prince. The thought does nothing to remove the bitter taste from my mouth.

“We have been spotted,” she says in a rush. “Mother says the bells all mean something. They sound bright, don’t they? Maybe this is a good omen.”

They don’t sound bright to me. They sound like a death knell. Maybe they mean the prince’s archers will set our carriage on fire.

“A good omen indeed,” I say, forcing a smile on my face.

The carriage jerks and shifts as the horses draw us onto new terrain. Cobblestones, from the feel of it. Nerves flutter in my belly despite myself. An hour ago, our guards hung our green-and-black banners and pennants from the carriages, adorning the horses with the trappings we’d kept hidden while traveling through Emberfall.

I want so badly to lean out the window to see the castle, but I would never hear the end of it. If Nolla Verin can sit across from me so prim and patient, I can do the same.

When the carriage rattles to a stop, we sit and wait. One of Mother’s guards announces us and requests an audience with the prince. One of his guards announces that we must wait for the prince to decide whether he will invite us into the castle.

That will not go over well with Mother.

Indeed, I am not surprised when I hear her voice announcing that we will not wait, and if the so-called Crown Prince of Emberfall will not meet with us, she will happily return to Syhl Shallow to bring down a force of reckoning upon his people.

A male voice says, “Karis Luran. Surely you can grant me the time to cross the halls of Ironrose before declaring war.”

This must be Prince Rhen. No one else would speak with such authority. He has a nice voice, a tone backed with iron but warm enough to invite conversation. I wonder what he looks like.

Across from me, Nolla Verin’s face has gone carefully neutral. Not bored, but not interested either. She sits back along her bench to wait.

Almost immediately, the carriage door is drawn open by Sorra. She moves with fluid precision, every movement reflecting the training and unity among our guards. Sunlight fills the carriage in a burst, blinding us for a moment.

As oldest daughter, I am to step from the carriage first. At one time I thought it a position of honor, but over the last few days I have begun to wonder if Mother was always setting the stage for the main event: my sister.

Today, I don’t mind. I am the first to see the castle built from cream-colored bricks, stretching high into the sky, gold and red pennants flying in the slight summer breeze. I am the first to see the wide marble steps leading up to the castle door, and the two dozen guards flanking our carriages. Each carries a sword and a dagger, gold and silver shining in the sunlight. Each breastplate sports a stamped crest of a lion and a rose over the heart.

I am the first to see the prince, tall and blond, as striking as my sister in his own way. His eyes give away nothing. He wears a dark-blue jacket that buckles across his chest, along with high boots. He, too, wears a sword at his hip, which takes me by surprise. Mother never wears a weapon. She says it would tell our people she does not trust them.

Beside the prince stands a pretty young woman with cream-colored skin and dark, curly hair, wearing a red gown that sweeps along the cobblestones as they approach our carriages. She walks with a limp, which makes me wonder if the hand placed against the prince’s elbow is for support or to show they are together. Unlike the prince, her face reveals everything: wide, concerned eyes, mouth tight with worry.

Our presence here unnerves her.

She and I are alike in that.

Mother’s voice rings out. “My elder daughter, Lia Mara.”

The prince offers me a nod, which I return, and then I step to the side so Nolla Verin can emerge from the carriage.

Every eye is on my sister, but I’ve seen that show a thousand times, so I watch the prince. I want to see if his eyes flicker with interest.

Either he is too practiced or too indifferent, because there is none. He watches my sister step out of the carriage with the same attention he might give a passing curiosity.

“My younger daughter, Nolla Verin,” says Mother. “Heir to the throne of Syhl Shallow.”

The prince offers her a nod, too, but the princess beside him glances from Nolla Verin to me.

“Your younger daughter is heir?” she says.

Mother purses her lips. She does not like being questioned. “In Syhl Shallow, an heir is not determined by birth order.” She looks at Rhen. “Would that your country’s laws allowed for the same, and you would not be facing conflict, boy.”

“I have no conflict,” he says.

Mother laughs. “As always, you hide your secrets well, young prince, but I can see the weakness in the lies you weave for your people.”

“My people are at peace. If you have come to sow discord, I insist that you leave at once.”

“I have heard rumors that cities have begun to reject your right to rule.” Mother glances at the princess. “Rumor also says the King of Emberfall has perished in Disi, is that correct?”

“That is correct,” says Prince Rhen. “Have you traveled all this way to offer your condolences?”

“No. It was the work of assassins, I understand.” Mother’s voice is full of skepticism.

“Our people did our best to protect King Broderick,” says the princess. Her voice does not carry the same authority as Prince Rhen’s. Close, but not the same. Anyone else might not notice a difference, but I have been raised among royalty, and eighteen years at court has taught me the difference between people who are born to royalty and those who merely hope to imitate it.

“Your people.” Mother looks at her, and her tone confirms that she has noticed the same thing. “Is that so, Princess Harper?”

“That is so.” Her voice gains a backing of steel. Prince Rhen’s fingers press over her hand on his elbow, almost as if to hold her back.

“And what of your coronation, boy?” says my mother. “Is there a celebration planned?”

The prince hesitates.

That is telling. I hold my breath.

“What of your ascension to the throne?” my mother continues. “What of your people, who demand the true heir?”

“There is no other heir,” says Prince Rhen, his voice clipped. “No claim has been made. No man has appeared. I am the crown prince, and I stand ready to take the throne and lead my people.”

“I have heard you offer a bounty for a man possessing the blood of a magesmith. Is that somehow related?”

His jaw tightens. “Magic wreaked havoc in my country for years, as you know. I will not allow harm to come to my people again.”

“Then we have similar goals. I believe I can provide a measure of security for your people.”

The prince’s expression is dark. “Explain.”

She holds out a hand, and Nolla Verin steps forward. “I have come to propose peace between our peoples. I have come to offer my daughter’s hand to you.”

Prince Rhen’s expression doesn’t change, but at his side, Princess Harper looks like she swallowed a live fish.

“You attempted to destroy my country and you failed,” says Prince Rhen. “I will not now ally Emberfall with Syhl Shallow.”

“You stopped my army with magic and trickery,” my mother says. “Now you have no monstrous creature waiting to do your bidding. You have people who are growing increasingly divided. You have nothing aside from my offer to protect your subjects.”

He sets his jaw. “I will not ally with Syhl Shallow.”

“I am offering my daughter, my heir, to rule side by side with you. Surely even you must know how rare an offer that is from my people. You will not even entertain a meeting with me?”

“I have no interest in what you can offer.” His hand tightens on Harper’s, and I wonder if she is now holding him back. “I have no interest in an alliance with your country. I can grant you safe passage back to the mountain pass, so you can return to rule Syhl Shallow and I will continue to rule Emberfall.”

Nolla Verin steps forward, her black hair gleaming in the sunlight. The green and black stripes on her robes are shot through with silver stitching that glints with each movement. “I heard you were a just and fair ruler,” she says. “Yet you will not offer your people the consideration of an alliance with my own?”

The prince looks down at her from where he stands on the marble steps. “I have seen the destruction wrought by your people, girl.”

The word is a barb meant to equate with my mother so rudely calling him boy, but my sister reacts as if he slapped her. Each word out of her mouth carries an edge. “I am to rule Syhl Shallow, and if you will not entertain an alliance, you would do well to consider respect for my position.”

I wish I could catch her hand and squeeze it tightly, the way Harper seems to keep the prince’s temper in check. This is not a man who will respond well to haughty threats.

Indeed, his eyes turn flinty. “Forgive me if I do not bear much respect for those who would slaughter my people.”

I think of that trapper and his daughter again, and I have to swallow the lump of emotion that forms in my throat.

My sister raises her chin. “We are here to stop the needless slaughter of your people.”

“We are at an impasse,” says Prince Rhen. “For I do not trust you.”

“What if we were to offer you information on Emberfall’s missing heir?” says Nolla Verin.

Prince Rhen goes very still. Every ear in the courtyard seems to lean in. Even his own guards are curious.

“Where is your guard commander?” says my mother.

“Commander Dustan is traveling with Jacob, brother to Princess Harper and heir to the throne of Disi, along with his talented healer, Noah of Alexandria.” He pauses, and his voice tightens. “They are visiting my cities to see if they can provide assistance to the people injured by your soldiers.”

“No,” says my mother. “Where is Commander Grey? The man who stood with you during my last visit.”

“Commander Grey is dead. He died in the final battle with the enchantress.”

At his side, Princess Harper flinches.

My mother doesn’t miss it. “When we last met, I told you of your father’s first marriage. I told you how it was consummated in Syhl Shallow. I told you that a halfling child was born. Do you remember?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I told you of the tithe your father paid to keep this secret. If you think your people cannot see through your efforts to find a magesmith—to find your brother—then either you are a great fool or you think each of your subjects is.”

His face has paled a shade, but his voice is strong. “My people know I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

Nolla Verin stares up at him. “If a magesmith lives, if a magesmith is heir to your throne, I would expect we would be well-suited to help each other.”

“There is nothing you can offer me. Guards, escort them off the grounds.”

A jolt goes through me. We’ve failed.

This will mean war. More death. More destruction.

“Wait,” says Harper. Her voice is full of emotion. “Wait.” She swallows. “Why did you ask about Grey?”

Mother stares up at her and smiles. “You do not think he is dead, do you, Princess?”

Prince Rhen turns his head and says something softly, but Harper clenches her eyes closed. A tear slips down her cheek. “We don’t know.”

“A pity,” Mother says. “Come, Daughters. We will leave the prince to his choice.”

“Wait,” Harper calls. Her red skirts flare as she hurries down the palace steps. “What do you know about Grey?”

Our guards step forward to prevent her from getting anywhere close to Mother.

Prince Rhen’s guards do the exact same thing.

They stare at each other across a barrier of protection. Mother’s expression is carefully neutral, but Harper’s is flushed, her eyes pleading.

“You should hope he is dead,” says Mother. “For the sake of your prince. For the sake of his kingdom.”

Harper’s breath catches. “Why?”

“According to the enchantress, Grey is the only man who knows the true identity of the heir.”

Harper goes white. Prince Rhen has reached her side, and his face is full of fury. “This is not the first time you have attempted to undermine my rule with trickery and lies. You will not get another chance. Leave. Now.”

Mother turns for her carriage.

Nolla Verin climbs into ours. I follow, my heart thudding at a rapid pace. A guard slams the door.

“He is a fool,” Nolla Verin says to me before the horses begin to pull away. Her voice is loud enough that I’m certain the prince will hear it.

I think of the damage we caused to this country already.

I think of that trapper in the woods, his daughter cowering beneath him.

This should have gone so differently. Nolla Verin implied I would have sought an alliance with nuts and honey—but I know I wouldn’t have sought one with callous arrogance and disregard.

The prince is not a fool, I want to say.

But I am not the heir, so I don’t.