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

Even with summer heat in the valleys, the river at Ravenspire had bits of ice at the surface from the northern falls. This close to the peaks it was no surprise. Beyond those mountains was the tundra of Old Timoran. The ice seemed a fitting reminder of what our people had won through blood and bone.

I tugged the fox fur mantel tighter around my shoulders as men gathered near the river’s edge, mounting steeds and swift cabriolets. Some held curved longswords and sickles, most checked the give and pull of bowstrings, checked the points of their arrows.

Runa grinned with a wash of smugness as Calder trotted past on his royal charge. The prince gave his betrothed a nod of recognition, but more a greedy look shot between them. A power madness that would anchor the two together. Had Runa never mentioned how their ambitions for a greater Timoran aligned, I might’ve missed it. They would rule in fantastic brutality, no doubt.

Behind the prince, Captain Magnus and a gaggle of mightily armed officers followed on stallions draped in bright Ravenspire sashes and tassels on the manes. Jarl nodded his head and grinned. “I shall catch you a fine fur, Kvinna.”

Was I supposed to swoon? I had plenty of furs. By the hells, I grew weary of this constant battering of overconfident men with a need to conquer. No mistake, when a wedding was over, their ambition to win me body and soul would end, and I would become a tarnished prize they tucked up in the cupboard and promptly forgot.

Mavie snorted once Jarl and the prince were at the bridge. “He’ll be hunting, all right. For Herr Grey. Serfs of all the suitors have gone on about how they plan to get close to the negotiator the whole of the day.”

“I wish them the best of luck. Legion will do all he can to avoid them.”

“It is his duty to speak with them, to choose a match for you,” Siv snapped. “We all would do well to remember it. They are not our friends.”

Together, Mavie and I gave her similar looks of confusion.

Then, my chest tightened with frustration. I lifted my chin and watched the procession of hunters cross the bridge toward the forest. “Forgive me if I relish the idea that my negotiator holds as much disdain for this process as me, Siverie.”

She blanched. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Elise. I simply don’t want you to wind up hurt when the crown assigns Herr Grey elsewhere once this is over. They favor him. No doubt he will have plenty of offers across the kingdom.”

Had she witnessed something between us? One of the hidden touches in passing, or how Legion stood close, how sometimes we disappeared together? So what if she had? Her point had merit. Legion would leave and if I did not defend my heart, it would be an agonizing blow when it happened, indeed.

“I’m aware,” was the only reply I could give.

Admittedly, it had been a disappointment when this morning my father had summoned me to his side at the morning meal and informed me Legion and Tor would be called to the royal hunt with the king. I caught Legion’s gaze before he’d smiled and queried about me.

“Gods, boy,” my father had said through a wretched cough. His skin gray as death. “This is a bleeding fortress. What sort of trouble do you think will befall women at tea when an army of royal patrols mark every corner? You will hunt. Be free of women’s gossip for a time.”

He’d drawn laughter at that. Zyben sneered at his queen who had planned a grand gathering of all the women while the men hunted—but in truth the queen’s tea was more to slight her husband’s consorts who were not invited to attend.

Legion never lost his composure, simply accepted the invitation, and drank to it. But his eyes had found me over the rim of the cup and held tight.

“Elise,” Mavie snapped. “The king.”

My stomach dropped as the crowds around me lowered to their knees in a wave. I being the lone person standing. As Zyben came forward, I skinned my knees I dropped so quickly.

The king drew his horse to a halt. “Niece,” his voice like the ice in the river.

I lifted my eyes. “My King.”

Zyben tilted his head, a smug curl on his lips. “How have you enjoyed the festivals thus far?”

“Greatly, Uncle. You have my thanks.”

Fondle Zyben’s ego and you win favor. You keep his healers for your father.

It seemed to work since he puffed out his chest, his voice with less of an edge. “They remain in your name. This will end in honor for you. I’ve spoken with your negotiator and insisted by week’s end, you shall have your match.” Zyben grinned, pleased with himself. I wanted the ground to devour me. “Even from terror, Niece, good can come. No doubt you and your match will bring glory to our line.”

With that, Zyben kicked the belly of his horse and trotted ahead. Zyben’s two younger sons followed with their guards. Next, Legion. Hooded, his horse packed with a longbow. Beneath the shadows of his cowl, I noted the pinched look of his mouth, the flex of the pulse in his jaw.

He was angry.

Then it was true. The sting of tears took me off guard. I thought I’d have more time, but the truth was in the way Legion did not look at me, the way he hurried his horse after the king, as though speed were the only way to satiate rage.

In two nights, Legion would be forced to end the bid. He’d bring my free life to an end.

“It is a pity, Niece,” Queen Annika said as she returned a painted cup to a matching plate. I looked up, my tea and honey cakes hardly touched. “All you’ve been through. How ever do you walk around without fear?”

I straightened in my seat when I realized Annika was speaking to me.

Back in the banquet hall, gowns, beringed fingers, and flower petal perfumes spun around the room. Select ladies were called in to join the queen in a capricious tea where we all praised and offered veiled insults to one another until we were bloodied to a pulp by words and arrogance.

I kept my voice meek. Annika despised her husband, no doubt, and put on a good show of affection for our family. I believed showing submission was the way to her kinder graces. “I am rarely alone, My Queen.”

“Dear Aunt, Kvinna Elise has been paired with a negotiator who knows a blade as well as his trade. He’s the reason she sits here with us instead of at the bloody end of an Agitator’s sword,” Runa said boldly.

Addressing Annika so informally would not be accepted by anyone but her. Annika was not Calder’s mother, not Runa’s aunt exactly, and I deduced it made Annika despise her even more. Annika’s son was made of a weak disposition and was passed over to be future king. Pallid and rail thin, he’d been married to a plump woman who demanded fatted food in the hopes the first prince would thicken. As far as I knew, my cousin lived in his estates in the North, eating and giving his wife children. Nothing more of note.

Still, Annika feigned an affectionate smile. “Ah, yes. The king is quite impressed with the cunning of Herr Grey. I hear he has . . . quite a reputation in Mellanstrad.” Inez who sat amongst a feckless group of noble ladies from town giggled. Queen Annika was buoyed and widened her grin. “So, tell us Elise. Has such a rake tempted you?”

By the gods, yes. I folded my hands in my lap to hide the moisture on my palms. “Herr Grey has only treated me with the utmost respect.”

Annika snorted into her tea. “Well, that tells us nothing.” The queen lowered her voice. “Dear girl, though not publicly stated for women, there is nothing wrong with taking consorts after vows. With a face as his, I might be tempted myself.”

“Oh, Your Majesty,” Inez said. “You would not be alone in such a desire.”

More giggling rose and Annika drove on about Legion, other soldiers, other merchants, faces many of the ladies would favor as their lovers.

I took a sip of tea, face hot. The idea of taking vows with a man I cared nothing for, then taking many lovers after—it sickened me. My heart had known a furious beat, my skin had endured passion, and my body had survived a gentle touch. It could never want anything but the same again and again.

But time was running short with the hand which had awakened the need.

Could I ask Legion such a thing? An official, though hidden, consort to a second niece of the king? Surely more prestige awaited a man as him. A truer love. He’d spoken once of Ettan folk, how devoted they were to their partners. A bit of admiration was in his voice then. It would be selfish of me to deny him the chance to find something similar by tethering him to me, a woman he could never truly claim as his.

From the back of the hall the doors swept open, and a quartet of guards stepped in, boxing in a woman dressed in white robes and a stern knot behind her head. She reminded me of my old duenna who’d shout at me when I slouched at the table. Behind the terse woman, was a girl. My heart skipped. It was the same veiled child from the ball at my manor. Now dressed in lavender robes, the girl remained hidden behind the filigreed veil.

“Ah,” said Annika. “My husband’s little pet is finally here.”

“Forgiveness, My Queen,” said the nurse. “The witch dallied.”

Annika sneered. “As always. Such a disobedient little monster.” The queen faced her guests. “It can be no secret fury is wretched and dangerous against Timoran blood, the reason our king promptly places true Night Folk to death. But I will give my husband credit for finding the most curious descendants of the fae for entertainment. Traded from a gods awful blight of a kingdom somewhere in the West.

“We call her Fate’s Daughter. Not entirely fae, but with a curious little talent of twisting destiny we simply cannot ignore. Come here, my wicked little darling. Show our guests what you can do. Entertain us. Tell us a bit of our destinies.”

The nursemaid ushered the girl forward. I expected the child to tremble in fear under such a bitter gaze from a queen, but even with her veil I could tell she lifted her chin in a bit of defiance.

“As I’ve told you, Queenie,” said the child, “it does not work like that.”

The soft, warning voice from before was harsh and snappy. A child with a bone to pick. When the nurse swatted at her backside, I wanted to run with the girl. She was not free here.

Queen Annika laughed, seemingly amused by the girl’s bite. “I’ve seen you tell many a story. Now, do I need to force it, or shall you do it on your own accord?” Queen Annika held up a woven band with clear spikes sewn into the threads. “Remember, I know when you are putting me on.”

The girl’s defiance waned. Her shoulders curled forward.

“That’s better,” the queen said when the veiled child came to her side. “Now, tell us something fate has in store.”

Impossible. Fury couldn’t read the Norn’s plans. Could it? I’d not heard of fae doing such a thing—then again, the queen had called her not entirely fae, a sort of witch. Curiosity rivaled my sympathy for the child when the girl sighed, and from a pouch tied to her leg she withdrew a bit of rough parchment and a charcoal pen. No burst of power, no gust of wind, she simply began to write. Then, she rolled the scroll up in her hand.

“Who shall I anger Fate with first?”

The queen harrumphed but turned her sights on Runa. “Kvinna Runa, our future queen.”

No one would miss the bridled disdain in the queen’s voice. Runa made no indication she was bothered. Why did it matter? One day she’d take Annika’s place. She didn’t need to give the queen the same level of respect as the rest of us.

The girl faced my sister. She did nothing. Stared—or so it seemed since we couldn’t see her eyes. Then she began to write on a new roll of parchment. “Your game of crowns begins. In your eyes you will be victorious.”

The words made a bit of sense to me, particularly if the girl were intentionally drawing attention to the reality that Runa would be queen. It could be a kind of game between her future crown and the one Annika wore. The queen watched with seething anger as the girl tied off the scroll with a bit of twine and handed it to Runa.

“What am I to do with this?” asked my sister.

“Eat it, burn it, does not matter. The line of fate has been cast and cannot be undone. Cannot be avoided,” the child replied.

“As I explained, Runa,” Annika said. “The girl is called Fate’s Daughter for when she writes a story, eerily her little missives come to pass. Enjoy your games, dear Niece. Doubtless a great many formidable opponents will be there to meet you.”

Runa grinned down at her scroll. “How delightful. I do love to rise as a victor, Aunt.”

My stomach squirmed, while the other oblivious women found a great deal of delight in the back and forth. Nothing like a vicious crown to spur the inner warrior in Timoran folk. The balance between blood and peace is where my people thrived.

“Be warned,” the girl said as she moved along the table. “Though it is written, Fate does not always deliver the way we expect. Words can mean many things.”

“Me! Little witch, me next,” shouted Inez.

The girl repeated her silent stare, her eerie writing. Then, she handed the sealed scroll to Inez who tore into it, her face alight for a moment before her grin fell. “Watch the window? What in the three hells is this supposed to mean?”

The girl shrugged, moving down the line to anxiously awaiting ladies. “A missive of Fate. I write what the words demand. The rest is up to the fickle Norns who sit on their plump asses at the tree of the gods.”

She spoke of old lore, and it was both frightening and intriguing such a child believed in such power.

Annika passed the girl around, delivering missives. Some dull, some with promises of excitement in the future. I didn’t want the child to deliver anything for me. No doubt the fates had nothing bright instore for my future. But the girl came to me at long last.

I kept my gaze on the untouched cakes on my plate.

The child didn’t move. For too many moments she stood at my side, she had not even reached for the pouch on her leg.

When my tongue began to stick to the top of my mouth from nerves, I glanced at the child.

“A troubled heart,” she said. The room went silent. The girl stepped closer. “Release the past and trust those undeserving of it.”

She repeated the same strange warning as the night of the ball. I yearned to look away but couldn’t.

“What your heart desires, there your fate lies.” She lowered her voice to a rough whisper. “When you see the beast within, let him in to let him go. Only then will he bring the change you seek.”

A different ending to the strange declaration, but at the ball the guards had been shoving me away. The change—I wanted change. Peace and unity. I wanted Ettan, Night Folk, and Timorans to walk shoulder to shoulder, work fields together, defend our land as one. The change I wanted bordered on treason.

And I was supposed to believe a beast would bring it about.

I shook my head and looked away, a little disappointed. This girl was putting us all on. Clearly, she hated the royalty of Timoran. True, she might have some gift of twisting words, but this was madness.

“Why are you not writing it down?” Inez whined. “Kvinna Elise got such a longer one than the rest.”

The girl didn’t budge, not even a flinch ruffled her veil. “This path is not written in stone. It must be chosen.”

Queen Annika looked annoyed. She waved her fingers at the nurse. “That will be enough. I grow tired of riddles from a child.

The nurse came for the girl, but before she left, once more as she did at my manor, the girl gripped my wrist. A steady thrum of heat pulsed along my skin. “The tomb. Open it. Change it all.”

The nurse muttered a few hurried apologies and peeled the child’s fingers off my wrist, practically dragging the child away.

Laughter returned. Led by the queen, taunts at the mad, wicked darling of a witch. The table droned on about their odd little notes. Some had promises of fortune, others were simple like Inez’s—watch the knives, watch the gardens, don’t dine with a back to the door. Foolish, meaningless things.

But I could not draw the simplest of smiles. The final touch of the girl still hummed in my blood. Fury. I’d never truly felt fae magic, but this girl had blasted me with something and now it swirled within like a new part of me.

What beast? What tomb?

And what—by the hells—was about to change?