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

Mavie rattled on. Something to do with Bevan and Odda in the kitchen and their glances and grins.

“He gets redder than a rose when she walks in,” Mavie said as she finished with the laces on her bodice. Her dark hair hung in curls around her shoulders, and she seemed alive. Like she ought to be, I thought. She was born Ettan, but she should not be damned to servitude for it.

Perhaps someday I would find the fierceness in my desire like Legion described.

The very thought of him sent my heart to my throat. All day I’d floated about, catching glimpses of him here and there, but my uncle had taken his time as those in the hunt were questioned, then cleared and assigned to the assassin hunt. I tried not to think of what we did last night, of the sweet taste of his mouth, or the gasps my touch drew from him. I thought of what we’d done in the schoolhouse and what it would mean at the end of the celebrations.

We both could not be free of the vow negotiations. But perhaps knowing he felt the same, I might dare mention a life of love in the shadows. Destined to be half a husband and half a wife, but if we were favored the slightest by fate, maybe it would be enough.

“Elise.” Mavie lifted her brows.

I’d dazed off as I braided my hair. “Yes.”

“When did you return to your room?”

I swallowed a scratch back down. “I’m, I’m not sure.”

Mavie smirked and shot Siv a knowing look that wasn’t returned. “I assume you were escorted back by Herr Grey.”

The curl to my lips sent my friend into a fit of giggles that reminded me of when we were younger girls watching the dock men toss sacks onto their barges.

“Enough,” I said, my face red in the mirror.

“I agree,” Siv grumbled and slid a knife into her ankle boot.

Mavie balked. “Always the sour one.” My friend began twirling my braid into a crown around my head, but Siv swatted her away.

“I’ll finish. Your turn to see that the guards are ready to take the Kvinna to the main hall.”

Mavie muttered curses for Siv’s snarly mood, but handed the last of my braid over to my other friend, who’d yet to smile today.

Silence was at times welcome, but in this moment, it was unfortunate and thick and a nuisance.

“Elise,” Siv finally said. “I might be out of turn, but I want you to be careful with Legion Grey.”

I studied her in the mirror. She’d expertly hidden herself behind my head as she pinned my braid, so I couldn’t see her expression. I folded my hands in my lap. “Why do you say this, Siv? Speak plainly. We’ve always been honest with each other, haven’t we?”

She didn’t answer, but finally met my eyes in our reflection. “I don’t think you should trust him.”

My stomach twisted in a harsh knot. “Again, why do you say this? I must have a reason.”

“I just . . . I just think he’s dangerous.”

I thought I might be understanding, but instead I was angry. A fast, burning kind. “Then he certainly is bad at being the villain. When he had his mouth to my neck last night, he could’ve easily slit my throat. I made certain he had all the access he wanted.”

Siv blinked and let out a long sigh. “I don’t wish to upset you, but . . .”

“What happened, Siv?” I snapped and spun around in my seat. “Between the two of you at the bell tower. There is something you’ve left out. He told me he approached you aggressively but corrected the mistake. I’m not upset you use your voice; I’m upset you don’t trust my judgment. I, who has spent the most time with Legion, who pressed him and questioned him, until trust came as naturally as it did for you and Mavie.”

Siv finished pinning my coiled braid and stepped back. “I wish you had more people around you that you could truly trust.”

I had no idea what she meant, but a knock interrupted us. Tor stepped into the room. “Kvinna Elise, it’s time to go.”

“Right.” My insides clenched again, but not from anger or seduction. The execution was beginning. With a layered glance at Siv, I lifted my hem and followed Tor into the corridor.

“It’s off tonight,” Halvar was saying when I left the room.

My pulse raced when Legion smacked Halvar’s chest, shutting him up, and stepped to me. Siv hurried past us and took her place by Mavie. I didn’t mean to, but I followed her with a glare, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“What is it?” Legion whispered.

“Oh. Nothing.” I saw no point in telling him about Siv’s request. She was wrong, and I believed my point to be valid. In the time I’d known him, Legion had ample opportunity to do me in if he held malice toward me. I hurried to paint my discomfort with a smile as I wrapped my hand around his arm. Never was I so grateful thoughts couldn’t be read, for if he could see into my mind as we walked so near each other, he’d likely go red in the face.

The courtyard outside the king’s main dwelling was the finest of them all. Private hedges with blooming flowers and a regal fountain in the shape of a raven in flight. Tonight, the courtyard was ugly. The podiums were set, each with a rack where the three Agitators were placed on their knees. Their wrists were bound, then tied above their heads by posts. From the look of them, I doubted they’d had anything to eat and little to drink throughout their imprisonment. One was missing an eye, another bled severely from his mouth. I wasn’t positive the third was even alive still, the way he slumped forward, only his bound arms keeping him upright.

Legion followed my stare to the broken men. He dropped his arm and took my hand instead. I held fast, cutting off blood by squeezing, but he never released me until we found our places beside my parents.

“Where is Runa?” I asked my mother.

“She had other worries,” my mother said lazily. “No need to bother her with this sort of thing when she is the future queen.”

By the hells, everyone acted as though Runa were preparing to take the throne tomorrow.

My fingertips went numb when Zyben rose from his throne and stepped to the edge of his dais. His voice boomed like a god across the yard. “Traitors to the crown belong in the third hell with the most wretched, the most despised in life. You deserve to suffer,” he seethed at the podium of broken men. “But we are not without mercy. Denounce your beliefs, give up your fellow Agitators, and you will be granted a swift death.”

One of the executioners kicked the lead prisoner. His head flopped forward, but he mumbled a few, sluggish words. “Hail . . . the N-N-Night Prince.” The man chuckled and spat blood at the king, though he was too far.

Zyben’s glare darkened. “So be it. You’ve been tried and found guilty of treason. For your crimes—you die by pain for the suffering you have caused Timoran, by blood for the blood you have spilled, and by cries for the tears of the people you have harmed.” Zyben waved his hand and returned to his throne.

In one step, three executioners were at the backs of the Agitators. My father chuckled. Ill as he was, his eyes were alive now, as if torture thrilled him. I clenched my eyes and squeezed Legion’s hand. He urged me against his side, disguising it as a mere comfort for a princess with a weak disposition.

First came the barbed whips.

I jolted at each lash. Each roar of agony from broken men. The third was not dead, but on the verge. He whimpered under the whip, while his companions wailed.

Bile rose in my throat. I swallowed it down.

The whips ceased, but next would come knives, carving runes into the skin, slitting gaping holes in their flesh, watching them bleed.

I shuddered. “This is wrong.”

“Hush, Elise,” my mother snapped.

I shook my head. “It’s wrong,” I whispered to no one.

“Change takes time,” Legion said against my ear. “It takes time, but if you desire it, you can make it happen. I have every faith in you.”

“But . . . these men—”

“Have committed crimes in the name of a dead royal,” Legion said logically.

No. They were suffering for dead men. The Agitators who’d attacked us in the clearing were not these men. This punishment did not fit their crimes. Something burned inside me, from the soil through my feet and legs, as if the earth mourned with me.

“My King!” I croaked before I could stop myself.

“Elise,” Legion begged and pulled me against him again, trying to tear me back. But it was too late.

Zyben held up a hand to hold.

“Kvinna Elise Lysander,” he said. “My niece, the one who has suffered more than us at the hands of traitors. Do you wish to speak, Niece? Do you wish to deliver a lash? Say it and it is yours.”

I melted beneath every hungry, bloody stare. Legion’s arms were frozen around me, holding me against him. I felt the hammer of his pulse, could sense the way his mind reeled, desperate to save me from my foolish mouth.

“I . . . I only wish—” What did I wish? For this to end, to find a better way for justice? What crimes did these men truly commit? Had we turned so savage that we kill due to association?

“Elise, please,” Legion muttered.

Whatever power urged me to speak before, loosened my tongue again. Doubtless the power of stupidity.

“King Zyben, these men have suffered well enough for their crimes.”

An audible gasp raced through the crowd. My father seared me with his gaze. Were we not in public, Leif Lysander would lift his weakened hand and strike at my mouth until I could not speak.

My uncle tilted his head, a cruel expression on his face. “Suffered enough, you say?”

“My daughter suffers from the trauma, Majesty. She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” my mother insisted. What little affection Zyben had for his sister might work in my favor.

“These men were not the ones who attacked me, My King. Those men died for their crimes. These men have their punishment, have learned your wrath.”

Zyben’s eyes were like blue ice; even at this distance, I noted the hatred in them.

“Tor, stand ready,” Legion hissed at my back. Ready for what? Would he take up arms against a king for me? What had I done?

“Agitators are traitors, Niece. As a royal in my household, I expect you would know this, but I see you stand against it. What would you have us do, Kvinna Elise? Welcome them who have slaughtered my people? Women and children? Is this the sort of weak-boned leadership my sister’s house has bred?”

“No,” my mother insisted. She shot to her feet. “Our first daughter is strong and will prove formidable to our foes, brother. Have mercy on Elise, I beg of you. She is not right, has not been right since the attack.”

Zyben scoffed. I hadn’t noticed, but during the venomous discussion, Legion had positioned himself in front of me. Mavie and Siv huddled close together, Siv with her blade in her hand, Mavie praying to silent gods. Three hells, I’d placed everyone I cared about in harm’s way. I deserved to be on the rack for my brainless tongue.

My uncle spread his arms wide, a wicked sneer across his mouth. “I am not without mercy . . .”

I held my breath, waiting for his capriciousness to deliver a painful blow.

I wouldn’t get my answer. A swift ffft, ffft, ffft broke the stunned silence. A scream. A gasp. A wet cough. An arrow pierced through the king’s throat, his middle, his chest. Blood stained his woolen doublet and fur cloak. Then, the king stumbled forward, face down in his own blood.

Dead.