A Vow So Bold and Deadly (The Cursebreaker Series Book 3)

I’d forgotten she could be like this.

Right now, I’m so angry that I want to tell Lilith to go to hell, that she can take Harper back to Washington, DC, and I’d be glad of it. I’m alone in the middle of the dance floor, and while our words weren’t loud enough to carry very far, there’s no disguising our argument as anything other than what it was. As piqued as I am with Zo, I am glad she took Harper away before we said anything else.

Dustan strides across the dance floor to stop in front of me. “My lord.”

He’s been my guard commander since Grey left. He’s strong and competent, and generally well liked. He was part of a private army in the west before I put out the call for more guardsmen, and he was one of the first to swear to me. Where Grey could be stoic and aloof, Dustan is more jovial, and he has a good rapport with the guards. He was an easy choice when I was desperate.

But while he’s good at doing what I say, sometimes I wish he were better at doing what I don’t.

Grey would have stopped Harper from entering the party without me.

Grey would have interceded before Zo did.

Grey would have—

I need to stop thinking about Grey. He’s gone. He’s my enemy.

You strung him up on the wall.

The words are like a dagger she plunged into my chest, and it’s hard to breathe around it. I wish Dustan had brought me a glass of sugared spirits. Grey probably wouldn’t have done that either—but he would’ve thought to tell a servant to do it.

“Go after her,” I say to him.

He frowns. “My lord—”

“Go after her,” I say again. The castle is full of people whose motivations—and whose loyalties—would scatter across a map. Harper just made me a target, but she made one of herself as well. “Keep her safe. Make sure she doesn’t leave the grounds.”

“You believe she would?”

I remember the numerous times Grey and I had to race after her in the beginning. “Right now, I’d be more surprised if she stayed here.” I turn away.

He hesitates. “But—”

I turn back, and there must be enough ice in my eyes, because he gives me a nod and says, “Yes, my lord. Right away.”

Grey wouldn’t have hesitated.

Finally, a servant approaches with a tray, and I seize a glass of wine. It takes every ounce of my self-control to keep from downing the entire thing in one swallow. As it is, I drain half.

One of the Grand Marshals approaches. Conrad Macon, from Rillisk. Because of his city’s distance from Ironrose, I don’t know him well, but that’s not a bad thing. The only Grand Marshals I know well are those who live nearby—or those who were at odds with my father.

Conrad has been quick to respond to any request since Grey was captured within his borders. And he showed up here tonight.

“Forgive me,” he says, and his voice is conciliatory. “I did not intend to cause tension for the princess.”

“There is more than enough tension to go around,” I say. “You are not the cause of it.”

He looks relieved to hear that. “Ah … yes, my lord. I agree.” He hesitates. “I understand you are preparing the army for another attack by Syhl Shallow.”

Now I do drain the glass. “Yes.”

“Rillisk has a small private army, as you know,” he says. “I know you have faced … conflict with Silvermoon. But I was speaking with the Grand Marshal of Wildthorne Valley, and we believe that by aligning our soldiers, we could present quite a large force in the west, which may be large enough to prevent any other cities from attempting to defect to the false heir’s rule.”

My thoughts were still tangled up in what Harper said to me, but this gets my attention. “You believe your armed forces would be enough to stand against Syhl Shallow?”

“Well, Marshal Baldrick has a woman in his employ who’s been able to discern information from Syhl Shallow’s soldiers.”

“A spy,” I say.

He winces. “More of a mercenary,” he says, his voice low. “From what I understand, she’s not cheap. But she was able to infiltrate their forces before, and she kept Wildthorne Valley from suffering many losses.”

If there’s anything I have, it’s plenty of silver. In Emberfall, five years passed without much activity from the royal family, because I had no need to spend a single copper. It’s part of why Syhl Shallow is so desperate to take over. “Have Marshal Baldrick plan a visit with this mercenary,” I say. “If money is a concern, I’ll make it worth her while. I would like to hear more from her directly.”

“No need,” Conrad says. “He brought her with him.”

Chesleigh Darington is younger than I expect, somewhere in her mid-twenties, with waist-length dark hair, olive skin, and calculating gray eyes. She has a scar on her cheek similar to Harper’s, though Chesleigh’s stretches into her hairline over her ear, where the hair has grown back in a narrow white streak. Unlike the rest of the women at the party, she’s wearing trousers—black calfskin, laced boots, and a slender tunic in deep purple. She’s more armed than most of my guards, and I notice that several of my guardsmen hover close when she joins us at a table in the corner.

Marshal Baldrick and Marshal Macon sit at the table, sipping from glasses of wine, looking proud that they’ve brought something to offer. In another lifetime, I might be dismissive about their gloating, but tonight, I want people to envy them. I want people to seek my favor. I need Emberfall to be whole to stand against Grey. He’s already endeared himself to many of the northern towns, and I am on rocky ground with Silvermoon Harbor. It’s likely a miracle that Marshal Perry even showed up tonight.

I wish Harper had not stormed out of here.

I trace my finger around the stem of my wineglass and pay attention to the matter at hand.

“You believe you have information on Syhl Shallow’s military?” I say to Chesleigh.

“Not just on their military,” she says. “I can cross the border at will.”

I frown. “How?”

“I speak Syssalah. I’m familiar with their customs, and they’ve come to see me as a citizen.”

I lean in against the table. “How?”

“I was born there.”

The Grand Marshals at the table exchange a glance, but Baldrick clears his throat. “Chesleigh is loyal to Emberfall.”

My eyes don’t leave hers. “Why?”

“Because their queen slaughtered my family.” Her words are even and unaffected, her eyes cool. But I was a monster created by the enchantress, and I slaughtered my own family, so my tone is just the same when I speak of it. I know how much anger and fury and loss can be hidden by a pair of cool eyes.

“When their army first came through the mountain pass,” she continues, “I was surprised how easy it was to lose myself among their ranks. Few people in Emberfall speak Syssalah—and even fewer would walk right up to a Syhl Shallow soldier without fear after what they’ve done. Bold women are rarer here, but they’re common in Syhl Shallow.”

“And they let you cross the border?” I say. “Just like that?”

She gives me a darkly conspiratorial smile. “They believe I am a spy.”

I don’t smile back. “How do I know you’re not?”

“How do you know anyone is not?” She glances at the Grand Marshals at the table, then back at me. “I understand your … princess from Disi did not bring about the military forces that were promised. That the royal family perished while under the king of Disi’s protection. Perhaps she is the spy.”

“I thought we were here to talk about what you could offer,” I say.

“We are.” She pauses. “I can assure you that my word is good.”

“Prove it.”

She draws back in her chair and takes a sip from her glass. “I don’t work for free, Your Highness. A girl has to eat.”

She’s very forward. I can see why she wouldn’t have an issue assimilating in Syhl Shallow. I’m used to polished doublespeak from the men at this table, so a forthright request is almost … refreshing. “Fifty silvers,” I say easily.

She smiles. “Two hundred.”

Marshal Macon snorts with laughter and someone else mutters a curse, but I don’t smile. “You must be very hungry.”

Her eyes flash. “You have no idea.”

“Fifty,” I say again.

“You won’t negotiate?”

“Not yet.”

She studies me for the longest time. “There is a narrow passage through the mountains, three or four days’ ride northwest of here. It’s not wide enough to support the movement of troops, but it’s unguarded from this side.”

I straighten. “And?”

“It’s wide enough to allow small contingents of soldiers at a time, and after their forces razed many of your smaller cities, they could begin setting up camp inside Emberfall.” She pauses. “Without notice.”

I go still. “Has this already begun?”

She shrugs and takes a sip of her wine.

I narrow my eyes. “I could find out for myself by sending scouts.”

“Yes, and it would take you a week and possibly the loss of those scouts.” She drains her glass, then smiles. This one looks genuine, and it turns her expression from calculating to something more intriguing. “Is that truly worth another hundred and fifty silvers, Your Highness?”

No. It’s not. “One hundred now,” I say to her. “One hundred when I’ve verified what you told me.”

“You’ll risk men anyway?”

“I’d rather risk a few now than risk my entire army on your word.” I pause. “Now. Tell me.”

“Forces have already made camp on the western side of Blackrock Plains, just at the base of the mountains.”

The Grand Marshals gasp.

I don’t. “How many?”

“At least a thousand.”

Silver hell. A thousand enemy soldiers are stationed in my country and I had no idea.

A part of me goes cold at the thought. Grey gave me warning. Even Lilith gave me warning.

I didn’t want to believe it.

I have to bite back a shiver. I glance at one of my guards. “Find General Landon.” He gives me a quick nod and rushes off. I look back at Chesleigh. “I will pay you your silver and verify your story. If you’re giving me the truth, return to Ironrose in a week and I’ll pay you the rest.”

She doesn’t move. “I can tell you about more than just the soldiers, Your Highness.”

“What else?”

Her eyebrows go up.

“There is a difference between hunger and greed,” I say.

“Is there?” she says innocently.

“One hundred fifty now.”

She hesitates, and I can tell that she’s weighing whether to play me for more. I’ve never bartered with mercenaries, but I’ve seen my father do it, and I know from experience that once you set a level, they’ll only ask for more the next time. She won’t get more than that out of me today, and maybe my expression gives that away.

“A faction has formed in Syhl Shallow,” she says. “There are many who fear magic. Many others who want no part of it among their people. There are records and ledgers of the magesmiths, of the things they could do, of the ways they were vulnerable.” She pauses. “There are those who oppose the queen, and her alliance with this magesmith.”

I go still. “Are you a part of this faction?”

“I could be.”

“How are they vulnerable?”

“I have heard that magic can be bound into a certain kind of steel forged in the ice forests of Iishellasa. This steel can be fashioned to bear magic itself—or it can cause wounds that are impervious to magic. Many of these artifacts have been lost to time, but some can still be found in the Syhl Shallow villages where the magesmiths once lived.”

“Preposterous,” blusters one of the Grand Marshals.

But it’s not preposterous. Grey once wore a silver bracelet that the enchantress bound to his wrist. It allowed him to cross the veil into Washington, DC.

I have no idea where it ended up. But I know such a thing exists.

My breathing goes thin, and my thoughts race. Is there a weapon that could harm Lilith? Has the solution been in Syhl Shallow all this time?

“I have heard rumor of one such weapon,” says Chesleigh. She shrugs. “Doubtless there are others.”

“Such a weapon could be used against the false heir,” I hear one of the Grand Marshals murmur.

No, I think. Such a weapon could be used against Lilith.

This feels like a risk. There is no proof. No surety. It’s not as if I could ask Lilith herself. Even now, I want to cast a glance around, as if she could be listening to this very conversation.

I say, “Could you retrieve this weapon?”

Her eyes flash. “It will cost you.”

“For this, you can name your price.”