FULL NOVELXO Court of Ice and Ash: Chapter 18
the sea caves long. A bit of rest, half a hard honey roll, and a bit of watered-down wine, and Halvar insisted we make for Ruskig.
With the refugees in tow, the journey would be slower, and we’d need to be strategic on the roads we took. If we complained about the rocky paths before, they were nothing compared to the sludge and slick mud in marshes and swamps close to the fury quarries. We’d take a route that would add an extra day and lead us around the back of Castle Ravenspire.
Ulf had more than once told Halvar he was a fool and likely wished us dead to lead us on such paths.
By the morning after leaving the caves, more than one in our party believed him. Some even muttered that Halvar and the Blood Wraith plotted against us, and would abandon us close to the castle for the ravens to pick clean.
I grew weary of their grumbling, but didn’t want to stand near Valen, either. He was aggravating, and beautiful, and I didn’t wish to be bothered by any of it.
My steps slowed until I wound up at the back of the line where Brant was tied at the wrists behind a cart that held his sister, who’d only regained consciousness last night, then fell back into a troubled sleep.
Brant’s face was clean, and his beard had been cleared of sweat and debris. He wasn’t much older than me, maybe a few turns were all. Handsome, with sharp icy eyes, and a curve to his shoulders as if the world crushed his back.
I kicked a pebble. It struck the wheel of the cart. Brant followed it, then lifted his gaze to me, studying my profile.
“You are Timoran,” he said in a rasp.
“I am.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “If I had to guess, I’d say you are not just any Timoran.”
“I am no one.”
He chuckled. “Yes, and I am not being dragged to my death.”
“You’re not,” I said.
“Really? Because the Blood Wraith said so? He is a killer himself; I do not take much stock in his word, Kvinna.” I flinched and Brant scoffed. “As I said, not just any Timoran.”
“How did you know?”
“When I mentioned Ravenspire sought you out, you reacted. So did half your people. I was too muddled to notice then, but clearly you are among them. Why did you turn from your family?”
“Because my sister and Calder are preparing to slaughter innocent people. They stole the throne through a coup. This land did not choose them.” I tugged on my braid and sighed. “This land didn’t choose anyone in my line.”
“Treasonous talk, Kvinna,” he said. Not threatening, more playful, like he’d expected I’d say nothing less.
I shot him a sly grin. “Do you disagree?”
“No,” Brant said. He peeked over the edge of the cart when Kari shuddered in her sleep. “No, I don’t disagree. Timorans are raiders. Our ancestors stole most things, then we fight to keep it.”
“What if we didn’t have to? Fight, I mean. What if we could all be united? It was what King Arvad and Queen Lilianna tried to do.”
“The Night Folk king?”
“His queen was Timoran.”
Brant regarded me with a lifted brow. After a moment he nodded. “You’re right. I’d nearly forgotten, but I had an amma who told us the story of how the ice land joined with magic by their union. Amma Pjoke always indulged Kari with romantic tales and said at their union the gods parted the skies and shook the earth to show their approval.” He chuckled and looked to the skies. “I don’t know if peace is possible. You don’t know the strength Calder is gaining. He has support from the eastern kingdoms, and some from the western kingdom. He does manipulate Night Folk to serve him.”
My stomach turned sour. Doubtless Calder would gather a formidable army, one that would be difficult for even Valen to stand against. If only Ari would free him from his bindings. If only the Night Prince would quit being so damn stubborn and take his place.
I shook away thoughts of him. Not now. Not yet. With a cautious grin, I sidestepped, so I stood shoulder to shoulder with Brant. “Are you well? Do you need to rest? Halvar will listen if you do.”
“He is the one who leads?” Brant asked before cursing when his foot was swallowed into a thick, grimy mud pocket.
“Yes, he is of the Guild of Shade.”
“Another surprise. The Blood Wraith and his guild have humanity.”
“They do.”
Brant let out a long sigh. “I’m fine. And this Shade, this Halvar, he has inquired of Kari several times. Even found an old woman who knew something of herbs to help fend off infection in some of her wounds.”
My heart warmed. Halvar was a good man. They all were. Simply . . . lost.
“They are prisoners, though?” Brant asked.
“It’s complicated,” I said. “The Blood Wraith wishes to fight against Ravenspire alone, and King Ari wants him as an ally. They are bound from using fury, but were given leave to help find the refugees.”
I didn’t see a need to tell him I was the bait Ari dangled in front of Valen. That would only draw more questions.
Brant snorted, stretching aches from his neck. “I’ve decided I do not understand men like the Blood Wraith.”
“Better not to try,” I said, grinning.
A whistle signaled us to a stop. I’d not realized we’d come so close to the ledges of Lyx and the royal townships.
“Now comes the fun part,” Brant murmured.
My fingernails dug into the pads of my palms as Halvar and Tor traveled down the line giving instructions on our next move. Tor—who’d brightened, slightly, since he read Lilianna’s entry—stopped at us.
“We’re about to go on the backroads through the old tombs.” Tor gave me a knowing look.
The Black Tomb. My breath shook when I released it. We’d cross through the place where Valen Ferus died, then was reborn.
I touched Tor’s arm and lowered my voice. “Is he . . . all right?”
His jaw flinched. “He survives. As always. Keep your eyes open, Elise. I do not trust the place.”
I took out my dagger and looked to Brant. “I’m trusting you.”
He groaned in relief when the leather bands fell away and rubbed his swollen wrists. I handed him a switchblade Mattis had taken from Ari’s supply. Worth it to see the relief on the raven’s face.
The land of the Black Tomb hadn’t changed much. Knolls caked in mud and long grass straight ahead. The space remained marked by thick vines of moonvane at either corner. Between the walls of shrubs were pitiful, defaced towers which turned the entire enchanted area into a large square. The center knolls and paths, a kill zone should ravens perch at the tops of those towers and fill the space with their arrows. Or, by the gods, if those shadow guardians returned.
Moonvane carved across the Black Tomb. Around the moonvane were crests of the Lysander line. I shuddered. It was haunting to see our family runes and symbols in the open. They were not there before. Had Runa come here? Did Calder know what I had done? Bleeding hells! Did they know of Valen?
I turned from the ghostly crests to the rounded sod burial chambers. Around the chambers were new totems of the gods, and around the totems were spikes with heads. Not just any heads—ravens.
My stomach turned harsh enough I covered my mouth to keep from retching. I was a bit ashamed that my first thought was of Valen. Had he done this? He’d pushed me out because Ravenspire was sending guards. Or were these the misgivings of poor warriors who had failed their new king?
I had the chance to ask. Valen wove his way through the cautious line of folk passing through the thick shrubs and into the Black Tomb. His eyes dark, and sorrowful. Once again, the red mask covered his nose and chin.
At my side, he turned forward and walked, saying nothing.
I slowed my pace. Sure enough, so did the Night Prince. When Brant and the cart were ten paces ahead, I faced him, eyes narrowed. “Are you behind the slaughter here?”
The pause he gave unsettled me, but after a moment Valen leaned in and said, “No. But our friends sadly departed from their bodies are why I will cross with you.”
“Oh, now you care so much.” Petty perhaps, but I was angry enough I could scream. Words came on their own volition.
To irritate me further, Valen chuckled. “Is that your way of saying you have missed me?”
He was the Night Prince. He was the heir to the Ettan throne. He’d been cursed, used, beaten, starved. He lied to me. But there would always be that witty, arrogant, infuriating tongue of his that drew a smile against my will.
“I have hardly noticed your absence.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled. Hells, I wish I could see the grin for myself. He withdrew two narrow swords as I turned away. “I see they’ve trusted the Wraith with weapons. What a proud thing for you.”
“Oh, no, Kvinna. There is no trust for me here. I stole them.”
Valen ushered me forward, holding back a branch of moonvane, a look of longing in his eyes when he studied a blossom.
“Why do you think my family crest is here?”
“I don’t know,” Valen admitted. “But it’s either a taunt that your sister is on to what this place means, and she expected you to return, or it’s simpler, and Calder gifted the lands to his future queen.”
“Let us hope it’s the second option,” I said.
Valen dipped his chin. “Let us hope.”
It was not helpful knowing the Night Prince was on edge. He buried it in light tones and easy conversation, but Valen’s gaze hadn’t stopped sweeping over the space. We shoved through the moonvane carefully. On the edge of the boundaries, I smashed into Brant’s back. The raven hadn’t moved past the moonvane hedge and stared at the expanse of the Black Tomb.
“Brant?”
“This place brings blood,” he whispered. “I’ve studied sagas. It is cursed.”
Valan and I shared a look. The raven had no idea the secrets of this land, nor how right he really was.
“I think it once was cursed,” I tried, “but now it is nothing but a burial site.”
“No,” Brant said. “There is something in this soil. I know it. King Calder did things to this place. It calls for blood.”
“What do you know?” Valen asked, sharply.
“Nothing, only that this place traps people and Castle Ravenspire came here not long ago. They’ve done something here, I’m sure of it. I feel it.”
“Brant,” I said, trying to soothe while trying to push him onward. I’d heard of mind stun, and even if Brant was a raven, he’d gone through an ordeal. No mistake, his mind must’ve been whirling. “Let’s go slow. See, Kari is in the cart, and they’ve crossed into the tomb. Nothing has happened.”
“Call it a gut feeling.”
“Perhaps you have a bit of Night Folk in you,” Valen said, rolling a sword in his grip.
Valen had been taunting the guard, but Brant nodded his head, voice flat. “I think I do. I’ve always felt things others didn’t, sort of like I know what to do in situations, or I know when bad things are about to happen. And bad things are going to happen.”
My skin prickled. He tried to hide it, but Valen stiffened. I didn’t miss how he took out his second sword.
“Kvinna,” Brant said. “Take care.”
I didn’t say anything. The way Brant looked at me, as if he knew my connection with this place, was unnerving. The guard closed his eyes and stepped into the open.
Nothing happened.
“He’s losing his wits,” Valen muttered.
Maybe. It was possible the mind stun had settled in. But there was a chill rolling up my arms. Brant’s warning, the admission his instincts were not typical, had me on edge.
“Ready?” Valen asked.
“Are you?”
He stared ahead. “No, but what choice do we have?”
I didn’t know why, but his honest response left me feeling better. If the Night Prince hesitated—perhaps out of a bit of fear—then maybe I wasn’t such a coward. Valen held out his hand. I took it, holding fast.
Together, we crossed once more into the lands of the Black Tomb.
The stars glimmered overhead; the breeze teased my hair. Nothing changed.
I chuckled nervously, embarrassed for being such a fool and so afraid. The curse had lifted. Like I told Brant, it was nothing but a burial site now.
Two more paces and the ground shuddered. Valen stopped. His grip tightened on my hand. My body stilled as the breeze faded. Black blotted out the stars.
I couldn’t scream, couldn’t move.
The wall of shadows broke into individual apparitions. The gold gleam of fiery blades burned against the dark.
The fury guardians screeched. They surrounded us. Then, they attacked.