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

More than with the announcement of open dowry, gasps bounced from wall to wall, women fanned their faces, and all eyes pointed to the back of the room.

My blood went cold. I didn’t turn around, didn’t dare meet his eye. Legion Grey was . . . my dowry negotiator?

He’d be the man who held my future in his hands, the man who would spend most waking hours with me, scrutinizing me, matching me, setting what I was worth as a wife until he handed me over.

I knew he worked in trade negotiations, but this was something else entirely.

My uncle grinned, rather pleased with himself. “No doubt his reputation in foreign affairs will serve my family well.”

“I live to serve, My King.”

His voice, Legion’s voice, prickled up the back of my neck. The soft, mischievous tone from earlier. I’m good with secrets.

I’d opened my bleeding mouth and spoken to him. Would he recognize me now?

“Elise,” Runa hissed at me. “Acknowledge him. It’s expected.”

I hadn’t realized everyone was staring until a lady of the high court lifted her nose in disgust. I bit my nerves into my bottom lip and slowly faced the back of the room.

Three hells, in the light of the ballroom his eyes were hot coals. He must’ve stopped at the game hall for only a moment before coming here, still dressed in the dark waistcoat that caused his unique golden hair to look more like copper. His jaw had sharp corners, and the slightest layer of stubble darkened his bronze skin.

Legion lifted his wooden drinking horn. He tipped the drink to his mouth, eyes never leaving mine.

The smirk on his lips sent a rush of anger over my skin. So much for being the face I’d imagine when I vowed with another. Now Legion was simply another man who cared little for me, my heart, or my future. For his position, the one who would give the final say, truth be told, he was the worst of everyone.

With all eyes on me, I wanted very much for the ground to open and swallow me whole until a hand took mine.

Jarl pressed his lips to the back of my glove again, startling me. “Elise, I would like you to know, I plan to enter the negotiations. I hope this isn’t displeasing to you.”

What to say? This whole thing displeased me. Jarl was a good match, and I couldn’t very well hope to stay under my parents’ roof for all time. But Jarl bled for Timoran. I doubted he’d ever accept my involvement with Ettan folk.

I had no words, but forced a smile

Jarl seemed appeased. “Would you dance with me?”

“You do not want to speak to Herr Legion?” I asked. A quick glance at the back of the ballroom told me the negotiator was already surrounded by three men. My insides cinched.

Jarl tugged on my hand. “I’d rather dance with you.”

Surrounded by other couples, with the warmth of Jarl’s hand on the small of my back, I almost forgot my life would never be the same. For three dances, Jarl spun me around, until we laughed and caught our breath.

“I’m afraid I’ve been rather inappropriate keeping you on your feet this long. Shall we take a pause?”

I followed him to the edge of the ballroom where Runa and Calder drank wine. I recognized Arabella, one of our serfs, even under her netted veil as she placed honey cakes and flaky tarts on a silver platter.

“Arabella,” I whispered and handed her a tart, “take it for Ellis.” Her son had been ill with a rising fever for the last two days. Herbal remedies were starting to help, but I imagined the boy would appreciate a sweet, too. Arabella slyly slipped the tart into the pocket of her smock and bowed away.

“So, you do speak to gutter rats.”

I glanced over my shoulder and fought the urge to groan at Calder. “To a woman, you mean?”

Calder clucked like an arrogant cock and sipped his wine loudly. “I must say she did smell. I would think her better suited to labor in the high court quarries. Out of sight.”

To my distaste, Jarl chuckled, but Runa simply stared at her glass of wine. I held a bit of pride she didn’t engage in the cruel banter, but she didn’t shut her intended up, either. I could not stay so tight lipped.

“She’s a lovely woman, actually,” I said.

Jarl looked at me with a bemused expression.

Calder scoffed, his beady eyes narrowing. “I’d send all Ettan blood to the quarries if they did not prove so useful cleaning out our chamber pots. Rotter scum belongs in the dirt, Elise”

Runa rolled her eyes. “Skies, must we continue this sort of talk? The quarries are dreadful places and I’d rather speak of pleasanter things.”

“Yes, we have that choice, Runa,” I said. “The Ettans do not.”

Jarl cleared his throat. “The quarries are dangerous for Timorans, and Ettans without fury. Only Night Folk are sent to the quarries.”

“I’m not sure that is any better,” I said, trying to keep my composure. The quarries were dangerous and brutal. As mischievous and dangerous as fae were, I pitied them all the same.

“Why are we talking about this at my engagement party?” Runa whined, drawing me back to the moment.

“It seems your sister is hells-bent on difficult conversations tonight, my love,” Calder said.

“Sorry,” I said. “You’re right. We should be celebrating.”

Jarl’s smile returned, and I wondered if he might be regretting his courtship arrangement to a vocal conspiracy theorist, but I supposed if we were to be vowed, he ought to know the real me.

“Forgive me, I must take a leave for a moment. I have military business to attend to.” Jarl faced me. “Perhaps I could take another dance later, Kvinna.”

I bowed my head as a reply. Runa left with Calder, and I was glad to be rid of him. I had no desire to make idle chat with anyone in the room and took my leave outside on the balcony.

The cool night brushed against my skin, raising the hair on my arms. I breathed deeply, wondering if Mavie and Siv would congratulate me, or if they would know taking vows would change our friendship. Or perhaps Jarl would be the sort of husband who didn’t mind a charitable wife.

Could I love Jarl? Or any potential suitors?

My parents showed little affection to each other, even before my father’s illness. But I had seen many romantic couples to know love was possible.

I wanted to be loved like that, but knew it was too rare to hope for. If I did not take a position as a wife, odds are I would end up like the faceless princesses of the distant kingdoms—vying to be a consort to some powerful man. Even further from the idea of love, and more a body to be used for pleasure.

“I need to do more before I can do nothing. Something great,” I said to the breeze.

“I’m interested to know what great things you have planned.”

I wheeled around, gripping the balcony. Legion rose from the wicker chair in the shadows. In his black waistcoat, without the lanternlight, he might’ve remained invisible. A red band around his wrist marked him as an important guest of the Lysander manor, and the flash of mischief in his gaze sent a trill running through my insides.

This close I could make out the bits of gold swirled with the black of his eyes. There was a seductive darkness in him, as if he might laugh or cut my throat at any moment. Another man stood behind Legion’s shoulder; his slate eyes narrowed as he tipped back a horn of ale.

“Herr Legion, I didn’t see you.”

“I noticed.” His lips tilted into a half grin, as if he knew all my secrets but refused to admit to anything. He bowed his head. “Kvinna, an honor to meet you. This is Tor, he’ll be assisting with the negotiations.”

Tor was Ettan. His dark hair curled over a hooded brow, and his eyes were like a moonless night. A flicker of disappointment tightened my chest. Legion hadn’t seemed the type to indenture serfs. Then again, Tor was dressed as fine as Legion. Perhaps he was one of the rare freeman Ettans permitted to roam the streets without cause to look over their shoulder.

Whoever Legion’s companion was, he had no desire to acknowledge my existence, and turned away into the shadows once more.

Whatever etiquette was required between a dowry negotiator and the woman he served, I didn’t know it. I had no idea what to say.

Legion took a step closer, voice rough. “If I had to guess, I’d say I make you nervous, Kvinna.”

What little admiration I felt for the man quickly dissolved into raw defensiveness. I straightened my shoulders, refusing to allow Legion Grey to witness my discontent. “Herr, I assure you I am not nervous. I’m sure we will find many things to discuss soon enough as you learn the lengths I will go to keep honor in my family’s name.”

I expected Legion to frown, maybe lock me in one of his hot-coal stares, but he grinned. “I look forward to learning a great many things, Kvinna.”

“Forgive me, but I thought you bartered trade with merchants.”

“You’re right,” he said and leaned one elbow against the rail. “But vow negotiations are prestigious work. I have prepared for this for some time. I assure you, Kvinna, you are in capable hands.”

“The only hands I consider capable are my own.”

Legion lifted one brow, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Ah, but you have never experienced what mine can do.”

My insides backflipped. The grin, the lull of his voice, would ruin me. I’d never need to fret over taking vows because I would not survive Legion Grey.