Curse of Shadows and Thorns: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 1)

Legion kept a distance of three strides. Jarl said nothing, but I could’ve sworn he grinned as we passed Herr Svart, who sat on a lower table. Svart narrowed his eyes into daggers. I wanted to disappear.

Inside, Mavie and Siv took a place against the wall with the other maids and stewards. Bevan stood with them, while Tor and Halvar exited the hall for the kitchens. They weren’t needed and would not be permitted to stay.

At the table, I took the seat between Legion and Jarl. For sharing many of my sentiments on Timoran culture, the negotiator settled into the finer things of life like a second nature. He knew how to sit like a man who catered to no one; knew how to piously hold out a drinking horn for more ale or wine, then how to stroke the glass pride of surrounding nobles until they’d gone blue in the face from swallowing their self-importance.

Me, raised in this life, could hardly bury my resentment. As boorish conversation went on, even the way I shredded the wet eel skin screamed of discontent.

No one noticed if I was troubled, of course. No one but Legion.

“I’m well,” I said at the hooded glance he gave me when my knife skidded over my plate. He didn’t need to say anything, I knew what question danced on the tip of his tongue.

“I said nothing,” he returned with a grin.

I tightened my mouth.

We sat at the king’s table. I’d prefer if the ground swallowed me whole as prying eyes stole pitiful glances my way, their stares prickling my skin. Folk would stare and whisper about me, but never approach me.

I was surrounded by countless people, yet always, in some way, alone.

The whispers ceased when Zyben took Queen Annika’s hand, and they claimed the two high seats at the table. Annika was a pasty woman, as though she’d never stepped outside, and her face was always twisted as if she smelled something putrid.

The queen sat, but Zyben remained on his feet. He lifted a polished goblet. “Welcome. You honor your King by being here, to celebrate a defeat of traitors.” His icy eyes traveled the table. Bone beads threaded in the braids of his beard clapped together when he sneered. “Eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves during these days.”

A murmur of approval rumbled through the crowds, and wait staff set to work serving the wealthiest, the noblest of Timoran.

I ignored most of the conversations, since most had to do with the attack, or status, or troubles in the kingdom. But a lady to the side of Legion soon caught my attention, the way she giggled and leaned in close to him. His smile was polite. Perhaps he enjoyed the attention. I didn’t know personal things about Legion Grey, who he entertained, the sort of affections he’d won in Mellanstrad. Only that he was desirable to many, and some talk hinted he was well known in other ways.

“You’ve been missed in town, Herr Grey,” she said. I didn’t know her name, but she was lovely. Shapely, poignant features. A diamond dangled from a hair chain to the center of her forehead. She was not without means.

“I highly doubt my company has been missed, De Hӓn Svensson.” Legion leaned on one elbow, but it angled his body closer to me and further from her.

“Inez,” she said. By the gods, she rested a hand on his chest. Bold of her. “How many times must I ask you to call me by my given name?” Legion didn’t reply, simply grinned, and returned his attention to his plate. Inez frowned but leaned around him with a new determination. “Kvinna Elise. How does Herr Grey favor in negotiating betrothals? He has cleaned my brother’s purse in the game halls many a time. I imagine he is rather sly. But perhaps we should ask Herr Magnus since he has placed his name in the bidding.”

I flushed and dabbed my mouth with a linen cloth, even though I’d hardly eaten since I decimated my eel. The last thing I wanted to do was draw any kind of attention my way.

Jarl cleared his throat. “Herr Grey has handled everything with great respect for our Kvinna. In fact, I feel as though it will be her choice in the end, not his.”

“It will be,” Legion said without hesitation.

My heart jolted in my chest. I folded my hands in my lap beneath the table, closing my eyes when the heat from his hand was there to meet it. He rubbed his legs, then his fingertips brushed against my leg, a shudder of sensation strong enough to penetrate the folds of my skirt. I froze, a pillar of hot and cold, of tension and peace.

Inez chuckled. “Your pardon? Why are you there if you leave the choice up to her?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jarl said through his teeth.

I shifted in my seat, so my knees touched Legion’s leg. The discomfort of the moment drew me to him. A place where I’d been safe before, where I could escape. In so short a time Legion had become such a place.

“Kvinna Elise will not ascend the throne, true,” Legion said. “But she is of royal blood, a leader in Timoran. It is my belief, allowing her to choose the match who makes her stronger will be for the benefit of everyone.”

“Most unusual,” Inez muttered.

“Why?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Both Jarl and Inez turned their confusion to me, but it was Legion who I looked to. “Why is it unusual to allow a bride an opinion on her husband?”

Inez snorted in her wine. “A love match, you mean?”

“Perhaps.” Was it such a ridiculous notion?

“All respect, Kvinna, but that is what consorts are for.”

“I disagree,” Legion said softly, facing me. “If anyone should find a match that could be both lover and equal, it will—it should—be Elise.”

My breath caught in my chest. Underneath the table his hand settled on my leg. The weight of it stirred my insides until I could hardly hear the chatter through the pounding in my head; made worse when his thumb drew slow, seductive circles on my thigh. The way we sat, no one would realize how close we’d come.

“Is this what you’re looking for, Elise?” Jarl pressed.

My mouth had gone sticky, like honey, and I couldn’t form words. Swifter, more deliberate circles came from Legion’s thumb. His other fingers stroked my inner leg gently. Unbidden, I parted my knees. Legion drew a long breath in through his nose, but never met my gaze as his hand drifted higher toward the apex of my thighs.

Gods, what were we doing?

My skirt was thin enough, each spark danced up my leg to my head. Like a hook in the center of my chest, I wanted to be nearer to him, wanted more of him. I shouldn’t be allowing this to go on, but it would be more of a tragedy to make it stop.

I licked my lips and answered Jarl’s question, but my attention was only on Legion. “Choosing someone who shares interests and ambitions while holding my heart is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Legion’s eyes simmered in a hot desire. All at once, his hand moved indecently high on my thigh, and I curled forward with a gasp. My pulse ran wild, my body a flurry of need and want and sensation. No longer did I want to leave to spare myself discomfort, I wanted to be free to find some seedy, dark corner and fill it with me and Legion Grey.

Through the fog in my head, Inez’s mutterings about my oddities were heard, and I noted the way Jarl tipped the rest of his wine back, a frown pressed on his mouth.

I slipped my fingers into Legion’s underneath the table, unbothered if he sensed how sweaty my palms were, or if he saw the thud of my heartbeat in my neck. I held his open palm on my leg, silently encouraging him to never let go.

He didn’t. Not until we were forced to retreat. For the whole of the first meal, Legion Grey claimed me with the firm grip beneath the royal table.

And I had let him. Without a second thought.

One of the longhouses nearest the king’s villas was where the Lysander household would stay the whole of the week. Where once the houses were open, some built in a single, long room shared by many, now, were a honeycomb of hallways and arcades and chambers with private doors.

I praised the gods Runa would be at the opposite end as me. She’d grown more unbearable throughout the evening, even striking one of her maids for sloshing wine on the floor.

Most folk laughed.

Calder drunkenly praised the viciousness of his future bride, then took the moment further by ordering ten lashings for the maid.

I’d taken my leave then.

“Shall we send any tea to your room?” Mavie asked. “Are you still not feeling well?”

Truth be told, I’d lied through my teeth to escape the banquet. I shook my head and rested a hand on Mavie’s arm. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine. You both should rest.”

Siv and Mavie shared a look, then bowed out across the hallway. Each royal room was aligned with a small chamber of goose-down beds for the maids and stewards.

If I left, so did my maids. So did Legion and Tor and Halvar. All with more than one duty this week. The stable hand would drive the coach, and handle a bow, and be a lookout on the grounds. Tor would be a shadow on me and Siv and Mavie. A silent guard in the dark. I often speculated how my father learned of Legion’s talent with a blade. Without Legion admitting to it, the way he was admired, I’d never have known he came from the cutthroat life of the streets. He must’ve disclosed the truth before being selected as negotiator.

One of his many surprises.

Not unlike his villainous hand at the banquet.

My heart still had not returned to its normal pace, and on the walk through the royal corridors, I’d stolen no less than a dozen glances at that hand. Imagined what other things it could do, then tried to shame such musings away without success.

“Tor,” Legion said and pointed at my friends’ doorway. “See to their room.”

Siv pinched her lips but didn’t speak. Doubtless she took great pains being treated like she could not watch her own back. And doubtless Legion was not the sort of man to argue with on such things.

She held her tongue and spared me a glance before following Tor and Mavie into the smaller chamber.

“Halvar,” Legion said.

Halvar offered a lazy sort of salute. “Say no more. Consider thy outer doors scanned and searched and surveyed.”

I bit my bottom lip through my smile as he sauntered with a touch of arrogance back the way we came.

My grin faded once I realized Legion and I were wholly alone.

I faced the arched wooden door guarding the royal suite. The hinges were made of black iron and appeared new, though this part of Ravenspire was built in the Ferus empire. Reaching for the door, Legion stopped me. His hand over mine on the latch.

“I’ll go first,” he said, his eyes telling me to stay back.

Legion tugged one of his daggers halfway free of the sheath on his waist and entered the room. The air was musty from disuse, but soon came the click of a latch, the slap of wood on stone, and a gust of coolness against my face.

“It’s empty,” Legion called.

Closing the door behind me, I stepped into the golden light of a newly lit lantern. Legion blew out the matchstick as I rounded the corner.

The room was grand, small as it was. A washroom with a gilded tub behind a diaphanous shade, and a covered bed with a fur duvet and oversized pillows. The wardrobe was already stocked with my gowns and a jar of rose oil was capped, awaiting me to perfume the rugs and threads.

I avoided Legion, both afraid of and yearning for his touch. Rounding to the opposite side of the bed, I leaned out the window, closed my eyes, and breathed in the silky night.

The burn of the negotiator’s eyes distracted me from it all.

“What ailment shall I declare for you come morning?” Legion asked, a laugh in his voice.

“Am I so obvious?”

Legion’s steps padded over the rugs. My breaths quickened once the warmth of his body came at my back, his breath on my neck. “To me.”

I prayed he couldn’t see the way my hands trembled as I closed the window, latching it, giving the privacy I wanted. Fog grew in my head as I puzzled over Legion’s behavior. It would be presumptuous and embarrassing to question him on it. Perhaps he’d meant it all innocently, a sort of friendly reassurance. Assuming differently was only an overwrought trail of thought. Unnecessary to address . . .

His chest butted against my shoulders. I closed my eyes, my voice all wrong and hoarse.

“Why do you come so close to me?” I swallowed past the stickiness in my throat. “Why do you . . . touch me the way you do?”

With lips close to my ear, he said, “Would you like me to stop?”

I faced him, my eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

Legion retired any space between us. When I took a breath, my chest brushed his, the fabric of my bodice hardly able to dull the seductive flame swirling in my pulse.

“I want to learn about you,” he said. “Learn of the things you truly want. Things we both know those crown chasers will never give you. You have so few choices they allow you to make, so I want to know—when I touch you like this . . .” Legion inched his fingertips lightly up the length of my arms. They claimed the shape of my wrists, my shoulders, they memorized the angle of my collarbone. My jaw. “Is this something you would like?”

I dug my fingernails into the meat of my palms. “Yes.”

“And how would you want your match to hold you? Like this?” He altered course with his fingertips, and one arm encircled my waist, palm dragging down every divot of my spine. When he reached the small of my back, he flattened his hand, urging me against his firm body. “Is this right?”

My hands had nowhere to go but on him. Up his chest, resting over the steady beat of his heart. I nodded mutely.

Legion tilted his head, and the rough stubble of his face scratched my cheek. “If one came close to you, like this.” His lips touched the round curve of my ear. He kissed me there. “Would you want it?”

“Yes,” I said in a gasp.

With one graceful motion, Legion turned me, holding my back to his chest again. I was dazed enough, I hardly noticed until his palm splayed across my middle. Gentle strokes heated my center. He followed the curve of my waist, hand on my hip. I was undone.

The whisper of my hair leaving my neck, draping off the opposite shoulder, was followed by his lips on my skin. “What of this, Kvinna?” His rough voice came more like a demand than a question.

“Legion . . .” My hand cupped the back of his head as his palm explored the shape of my hips, the side of my leg, back up my ribs. Never had a touch had such power over me. A word, a command, a simple gesture, and I’d break. Bend to his bidding.

Bid me! I wanted to scream but with his arms encircled around me, words turned to ash. Worthless and unnecessary.

My body arched against his, no space between us, and yet not close enough. Legion snaked his hand alongside my bare neck, beneath the sleeve of my gown, pushing it aside until my shoulder was free. A groan escaped me, and heat flooded my face for I could not take it back. But when his mouth left a trail of kisses across the ridge of my shoulder, I’d groan again if it brought the same result.

“This,” he said, voice raw. Legion’s palm opened on my chest, over my furious heart. “This is what you should demand. Ragged breaths, fire in your blood, sweat on your brow.” He kissed it away. I sank against him, knees weakened as Legion slowly, methodically, gathered bunches of my skirt. Too soon, before my heart could prepare, his hand found the untouched skin of my thigh. Those wicked fingers left sparks of fire across my skin until the barest touch to my sensitive core had my legs trembling.

My skirt was lifted, if anyone strode past the window they would see my naked flesh, they’d see my dowry negotiator touching me. They’d see his fingers beginning to claim the wet heat of my center for himself.

None of it mattered.

I let my head fall against his shoulder, legs spread, and throat bared. I wanted more. Wanted everything.

A steady knock pounded at the door. “Legion. We’re needed at our post.”

Cursed gods! Leave, Tor. Be gone!

Legion’s hand danced down my leg and released my skirts, so they gathered again around my ankles. He spun me to him, chest to chest. My eyes widened when he lifted the tips of his fingers to his lips. His tongue swiped out, tasting me on his skin. All hells, I’d never seen anything so provocative, so seductive.

A simmering heat roared in his dark eyes as he pinched my chin between his fingers. Leaning in, his lips feather soft on my cheek, he said, “All of this is what you deserve in a match. And I wish, by the gods, I wish I could be the one to give it to you.”

He stepped back and I think I hated him for it. Legion pressed a chaste kiss to my palm.

“If you wish it then do not leave!” With Legion five paces away now, I used the bed to brace my failing legs.

His countenance shadowed. “I boast an honored position as your negotiator, but in truth we know I am nothing but a servant.” He hesitated at the door. “Sleep well, Elise.”

When the door closed, my legs were spent. I slumped to the floor, back to the bed. My skin on fire as the remnants of his touch burned in place.

By the skies . . . The thought was futile, rendered nothing.

How could I think of anything else but the memory of what we’d done, what we hadn’t, and what I wished we would.