Court of Ice and Ash: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 2)

THE CAVES WERE DAMP and cold and packed with shivering people. No one had been properly fed in a long while, and most had sores or chapped skin from elements and old beatings.

I did all I could not to look at them.

Crispin must’ve been a sort of elder for the refugees. His hair was thin and grey as dawn. His beard was hardly a beard. Patchy and jagged. Stained cloth wrapped his feet, keeping slabs of leather on the soles in makeshift boots. When the frosts came, dressed as they were, most here wouldn’t survive if they did not return with us.

“This way,” Crispin said, guiding us into a cavern.

The stones and bottom were slick and wet from sprays of sea, but the mouth faced the water. Natural light broke apart the dimness, enough to have a clear view of the two battered Ravenspire guards, tethered on their knees.

Crispin grinned with a touch of madness. “We told you lot the trip would be worth it.”

Ulf and Frey muttered to each other; Ulf satisfied with the pathetic sight. Frey seemed more unsettled. Movement in the corner drew my attention to Elise. Her expression was heated and broken all at once. I resisted the urge to go to her, clenched my jaw, and turned away. Ravenspire was my enemy. They were hers, but I could not forget they were also her people.

These guards—for all I knew she might’ve known them.

I wanted to shield her from what would come should she continue with Ari’s plans. She’d watch familiar faces die. Or she would fall at the hands of those she once loved. The demon inside cursed her for being such a fool. For placing herself in this position. The call for blood and battle begged me to be indifferent to the banished Kvinna.

But the greater part wanted to take the conflict away and touch her until she melted into me like times before.

Halvar chuckled and stepped toward the bound guards. “What are we supposed to do with these sods? They look like they haven’t eaten in a week.”

“Exactly,” Crispin said.

“You’ve been starving them?” Elise asked, disgusted.

“It’d be us or them,” Crispin said and stepped toward one of the guards. “They want to be free, they want food is truer, so they said they’d be willing to talk and give up the plans of the false king.”

Halvar bent at the waist, meeting the eye of one raven. The guard’s face was chapped and scabbed. His eyes were rimmed in red, and he reeked of vomit.

“They could easily lie.”

“Won’t,” the guard muttered. The Otherworld was inches from the man, no doubt.

“That hungry?”

The guard closed his eyes. His breaths came harsh and labored. “We . . . know plans.”

“But you might slither back to your camp and tell what you know of us.”

“They wouldn’t make it over the ridge,” Elise said and frowned.

“Does the woman sympathize with these bastards?” Crispin whispered to Tor. He thought he whispered, but we all heard.

Elise narrowed her gaze. “I sympathize with humanity.”

“It is nothing less than what Castle Ravenspire would do. What they have done,” I said before I could think better of it.

Elise schooled her glare at me, a pain she didn’t hold for anyone else hidden in the flashing blue of her eyes. “Forgive me,” she said with at tremble of anger. “But I do not wish to become like Castle Ravenspire.”

Crispin snorted. “Then you ought to stay out of things like war, de hӓn. It’s bound to get messy.”

One of the guards began to cough. The sound echoed in the cavern. Elise lifted her chin, ignoring us all, and went to him. She inspected his skin, his pulse, then faced Crispin. “The least you could do is get them some clean water. You wish them to speak—then wet their bleeding mouths.”

Crispin flushed, but I didn’t think from anger, more embarrassment he hadn’t realized it first. He glanced at one of his fellow refugees and nodded. It took a few moments before the boy returned with a pail and spoon. Elise took the bucket and carefully ladled water into the ravens’ mouths.

One gagged and nearly spewed his empty stomach. Against my better judgment, I went to her side and took the spoon. This moment too familiar. “You go too fast,” I said, voice low.

She leveled her scrutiny on my hands as I spoon fed both guards small amounts of water. She wrung her fingers in her lap and whispered, “You say it as if you have experience.”

I paused. Dark memories choked my breath. Nights when hunger gnawed me from the inside out. When thirst burned until I could not speak.

“Because you do have experience,” she said more to herself. Her eyes fell to the rocky cave floor, a look of wretched pain carved in her soft features.

What was she thinking? I wanted to ask, but turned away, barring her out instead. I finished spooning two more swallows for the guards, then stood. “What is Calder planning?”

One raven, the strongest, lifted his eyes and took me in. “Spare my sister’s life . . . before I say a word.”

Sister? The second raven hunched over. She was bound in such thick furs, hair matted over her face, I hadn’t given it a thought that she was a woman. Her eye was swollen shut; her fingers bruised as if they’d been broken more than once.

“We didn’t do it,” Crispin hurried to say, as if he knew I was about to ask. “They fell, right off the cliff and onto the shore. S’how we caught them.”

“They fell off the cliff?” Tor pressed.

Crispin nodded vigorously. “When night falls it’s bleeding hard to see, what with the stone being damp and dark. That’s not to say I don’t think ravens are stupid in the head, but I suppose anyone could’ve tumbled if they got too close.”

I faced the two haggard guards again. “You talk, she receives care.”

“You can’t make promises, Wraith,” Ulf grumbled. “You’re not in charge here.”

“But I am, big bear,” Halvar bit back. “If you want information from anyone, the Blood Wraith can do it.”

The raven’s eyes widened when I lowered to one knee.

“Blood Wraith.” His words came in a breathless whisper. “All gods.”

“What is your name?”

“Brant. She’s Kari,” he choked out.

“Where is the rest of your unit?”

Brant shuffled on his knees and winced. “We . . . were separated. Our patrol took the south shores and towns.”

“Separated. Seems unlikely.”

The raven looked away from us. His nostrils flared.

“Lying will do you no good,” Elise said. She gave me a knowing look. She probably thought the same as me—we could use Junius’s gift, but they didn’t need to know. Elise cleared her throat and pressed harder as if she had the ability to taste lies. “You are not being truthful, and we’ve traveled for some time. Our tempers are short, and our patience runs dry.”

A bit of pride burned in my chest. Clever Kvinna. She knew the signs of untruths as well as any warrior here. She’d always been different than other Timoran nobles and as much as I tried, I could not get my fill of her. I had memories of turns gone by, and I did not recollect meeting any woman, even in Old Etta’s gentry, who stirred me, challenged me, shackled me like Elise Lysander.

Brant pointed his worry at his sister. “One of . . . one of the captains in our unit, I . . . I caught him forcing himself on Kari. I . . . I attacked him.”

“Water,” Halvar ordered when Brant’s tale was lost in a coughing spell.

Junius was the one who stepped forward and wet the raven’s lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I tapped his cheek, so he’d continue. “You attacked your officer? That’s a death sentence.”

“Do you have a sister, Wraith? Maybe a brother?”

Elise drew in a sharp breath, unintentional by the way she pinched her lips. Hot steel pierced my chest, digging and carving.

“I did.”

Brant nodded. “Then you know. It could be a bleeding king and I’d tear him apart. It is rare for women of Timoran to serve as warriors, they are often taunted, raped, or even killed. But we had no one else, nowhere for her to go once I joined. She proved her strength and was accepted under condition that she remain with me. As my responsibility. Spare her, and I talk.”

I believed him. The agony of being unable to protect Herja and my mother still ached. Countless nightmares were burned in my brain of all the things I could’ve done, should’ve tried to do to save them.

“You have my word she will live. What do you know?”

Brant seemed appeased, or perhaps too tired to argue. He cleared his throat and spoke slowly. “The king—Calder—he hunts Night Folk. He believes their blood can . . . create elixirs and poisons and magic that can be used by Timoran folk. He wishes to use them as weapons. Already he has poisoned Night Folk. Manipulated them with dark, twisted fury, then those who are too weak to serve him, he drains them. He takes their blood to study and experiment with.”

“That’s impossible,” I said.

“Is it?” Brant scoffed. “I’ve seen it. They have Night Folk who serve them. Strong ones. Already they’ve been able to recreate strange elixirs that grow the earth like fury, some can poison.”

“How do they manipulate Night Folk?”

Brant closed his eyes for a few breaths. “It is strange fury. Not from Night Folk, at least I don’t think so. There is a witch that lives in the castle. There are stories that her kind can grant any desire, any wish. All she must do is write it and the fates will change the path. Even change the loyalties of Night Folk.”

I stiffened when Elise’s hand rested on my shoulder. Her eyes were wide in what looked like horror.

“Calista,” she whispered. “The enchantress.”

Blood drained from my face. Were they cursing more Night Folk?

“What enchantress?” Ulf shoved to the front. “What are you talking about?”

Elise blinked through her stun. “Um, Queen Annika, she had a witch—as she called her. She could . . . write stories of fate.”

Brant tried to smile. “Yes. Yes, that sounds like the one we’ve heard about. As I understand, Castle Ravenspire has been keeping these witches since the beginning. Who knows how many they have.”

One. Elise looked at me. We both knew they had one. The others, the one who’d cursed me, was long dead. But one remained, forced to do their bidding. Although, the girl saved me in a strange way. Writing a tale that would summon me to the Black Tomb. But how long could she fight against them before she met the Otherworld?

“More than hunting Night Folk,” Brant went on, “every unit was given orders to find the new queen’s sister.”

A nervous tremor flooded the cavern. Feet shuffled on stone. Hatred clogged my senses. I’d take a great deal of pleasure killing the boy king should he try to touch Elise.

“Why do they want her?” I asked, voice harsh and entirely the Wraith’s.

Brant shrugged. “Their witch said she can’t be killed, or she was needed. Something. I don’t know everything. All I know is we were to find her and take her. Alive.”

So the fate witch was still protecting Elise in a way. Brave of her. And, no mistake, whatever plans Runa and Calder had, we’d ruin them.

I stood and looked to Crispin. “As you promised you provided something useful. Now, they’ve held up their bargain. Release them and get them some bleeding food.”

“Who are you to command?” Ulf said. “You hardly speak to King Ari, now you demand us to follow your every order.”

“Shut up, bear,” Halvar said condescendingly.

“You are bound,” Ulf said. “All of you. Frey and I are the royal appointed guards. What we say is for our king. You have not even picked a side. We don’t need to nurture ravens.”

“They are fugitives,” Elise said. “They won’t return to their unit.”

“I don’t care,” Ulf said. “They are enemies.”

“And even war has decorum,” Halvar said, sounding a great deal like his father. “Quit pissing and moaning that your king put a bunch of Night Folk in chains in charge. You feed us, so treat the ravens as your prisoners if you’d like. I’ve found it quite tolerable. They might be swayed to your side.”

“I do not want them,” Ulf grumbled.

“Enough,” Frey said, shoving his fellow guard behind him. “Ari is a fair king. Even with enemies. Take them from this damn puddle and give them what you might have to eat.”

“It isn’t much,” Crispin said.

“We have a few provisions from Ruskig for all of you,” said Siv.

Crispin nodded and refugees stepped forward and cut the leather bindings on the two ravens. Weak as he was, Brant hurried to Kari’s side when his sister slumped forward. Once he brushed her hair off her face her femininity became clear. She was slim, a splatter of freckles over her nose, and long eyelashes.

Halvar gathered her in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open before her head slumped back. Frey and Mattis helped Brant stagger from the cave, leaving the rest of us in silence.

After a few moments, Crispin clapped his hands. “Well, I suppose we should prepare to leave.”

When I went to follow, Ulf shoved his finger in my face. “You watch yourself, Wraith. You have plans in that dark head, and I don’t trust you.”

“Likewise.” I grinned wickedly, a lust to gut the guard throttled my logic.

Ulf stormed out. Junius tapped my elbow, a worried furrow between her eyes. “His anger tastes sour.”

“And that means?”

She shook her head. “Not sure, yet. But it usually means I will soon lose trust for him. I will keep him in my sights.”

As would I.

The others filtered into the main cave. Elise staggered over the rocks, avoiding my gaze.

Say something. She’d been spoken of, she was part of her sister’s plot, and deserved some kind of thought. No one else had said a word.

I needed to speak to her, to forget for a moment I’d shoved her away. Forget revenge and blood and remember moments when we snuck into alcoves, and all was right in the world.

“Your cousin will not find you.” Empty words and not what I should’ve said by half.

Elise paused, eyes bright and so alive. So near. “He might.”

I took a nearer step. “No, he won’t.”

“If he should—” She hesitated, biting nerves into her lip. “Then kill me before he takes me.”

“Elise—”

“I’m going to see to the ravens,” she interrupted. “Thank you for doing your part in sparing their lives. I’m sure it wasn’t easy when you despise Timorans so much.”

She left. Without another word. Not even a glance. Usually, she looked at me with longing, anger, or frustration. I’d take any of them to nothing.

Why was I surprised? Had I not wanted her to write me out of her life? I’d succeeded and she would be safer no longer connected with a vengeful prince.

Then why did her empty gaze hurt like a fist to my heart?