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

From the main thicket, the road broke away into two narrower paths, both carving up the hedgerow like snakes in the grass.

One led to Ruskig, a shanty settlement made of free Ettans, rumored to be warded by fury. Though I’d never been, Ruskig lay in the heart of old Night Folk territory. The shanties were supposedly more ruins of palaces and fae fortresses than wooden huts and hovels. A perfect refuge for Ettans and the criminally inclined to avoid the Ravenspire patrols.

If there were any chance the true fae existed with a desire to claim Timoran territory, they would reside in Ruskig.

Zyben never crossed over, unwilling to tempt his fate by catching the attention of rogue Night Folk. Brutal as my uncle was, he believed the tales of vengeful faeries were still out there, enraged at the death of their royals during the Timoran raids.

I didn’t know if any of it was true.

Ruskig was not my intended path, anyway. At a dead aspen tree, I padded around until my fingers dug into a knot with a makeshift cork plugging a hollowed opening. Inside, rodents had packed away sap-soaked needles, nuts, and leaves for the coming snows, but buried underneath, the small lantern remained untouched. Pleased my flint and steel was still dry, I ignited the wick, hurrying into the deeper trees. When Mattis mentioned the bell tower it didn’t mean the great iron bell in town.

Heavy brush and thorns devoured the end of the path.

My skin prickled at the sound of snapping twigs.

My lantern raised, I scanned the pitch of the trees. Nothing. It was nothing. A squirrel, a fox.

Anyone who ventured this deep into the forest would turn at this point, seeing no way forward. Exactly how we intended. On hands and knees, the handle of the lantern between my teeth, I slipped through an unassuming hole in the briars, entering a hidden grove on the other side. In the center was a tall pine, greater than all the others—the bell tower.

Soft laughter broke the night until my flame cast shadows over the dry grass.

“Elise,” Mavie sang, freer out here than anywhere. “I was beginning to worry you hadn’t gotten the message.”

Mavie had stripped her frock and apron, replacing them with trousers and an open-back top that showed the raven tattooed between her shoulders. She bent over to help me from the ground. On her waist were twin knives with gold stripes down the blades. Siv stepped out from the tree line, never satisfied we were secure enough. Like Mavie, Siv rested her hands over the hilts of two knives, but added to her leg was a dagger like mine. Her hair was secured in a tight knot, and her scowl deepened as a flutter of pigeons escaped the treetops.

I withdrew my dagger and added my lantern to the others nearer the bell tower. “My discussion went longer than planned.”

Seated on a boulder at the edge of the grove, Mattis snorted. “With the negotiator? I’m certain you had heaps to talk about.”

Mattis dragged a whetstone across a narrow short blade, grinning. I folded my arms over my chest. “If you’re asking, we did not say a great deal. He enjoys reading as much as I.”

Siv balked. “You read. All this time?”

“Why the tone of surprise? Yes, we read. Asked a few questions of each other, too.” I bit my tongue before I spilled out Legion’s tragic history. He did not come from the pedestal by which the whole of Timoran placed him, and I suspected my friends might trust him a great deal more if they knew.

But it was not my story to tell.

Mattis hopped off the boulder, his smile widening. “And? What did you think of my book?”

My heart raced simply thinking of the intimate descriptions of the fury spells. But Mattis was fishing for satisfaction that he’d produced the winning book enjoyed by us both. I did love to irritate him, so I shrugged. “Written well enough, but highly unbelievable.”

His mouth dropped. “Unbelievable? It’s history! True accounts of the richest form of fury.”

“Lore, Mattis. It’s lore,” I insisted, and reveled a bit in his obvious frustration.

Mattis waved me away, shaking his head. “I can’t speak to you when you’re irrational. Let’s spar.”

A moment later, I blocked a jab from his blade with my dagger.

What began as a jest with branches a few turns ago, had grown into a kind of weekly meet to fight, to be as our people—Timoran and Ettan alike—once were. Warriors.

When Siv joined, our skill increased. Still closed-lipped on how she learned how to fight, she’d taught me the proper way to hold a dagger, helped me learn to dodge a backward strike. Mattis knew how to scan the surroundings in one sweep. Mavie and I learned, we sparred. We gained bruises and scrapes and knots on our heads.

For a moment, in our secret grove, we were all equal.

Mattis slammed his elbow into my shoulder, forcing me to retreat. “What do you think of your negotiator, really?” he asked, rolling the sword once in his grip.

“You rode with him,” I said through a grunt as I sliced the dagger at his chest. Mattis dodged easily. “I could ask the same thing.”

When I reeled back to strike, being the dirty fighter he was, Mattis kicked my knee out, so I dropped. I was forced to roll to avoid a mock killing blow.

“Getting fast, Kvinna,” he said, pleased. Locking hands, he helped me back to my feet and we reset. Mattis prowled like a fox to a hare, a quizzical furrow between his eyes. “I found Herr Grey to be . . . unique. He asked about my shop, seemed interested.”

“Yes,” I said louder than intended. “Yes, he does that. Just today he admitted he wanted to ensure my desires if a match were met.”

From the corner of my eye, I caught the tail end of Siv tossing Mavie over her shoulder, landing Mavie flat on her back, coughing.

Siv dragged a long breath through her nose and looked to us. “Be cautious.” She rested her hands on her hips, gathering air, and wholly ignoring Mavie as she fumbled back to her feet. “Personally, I don’t trust him. I think he flatters to gain trust.”

“Kvinna, I’m aghast,” Mattis said, a hand to his chest. “Our dear Siverie does not trust someone.”

“Odd, indeed,” I added, laughing as Siv spun a threatening knife in her grip, eyes on Mattis like she might stab him—or kiss him—I could never tell with Siv and the carpenter. Her words stuck to me, though. It could be possible Legion knew how to read people, how to say the things they wanted to hear.

“All I’m saying is to be on guard,” Siv said. “There could be reasons he wants folk to think highly of him.”

“Couldn’t possibly be because he’s decent,” Mavie muttered.

Siv narrowed her eyes. “Could be, but it’s called caution. By the gods, do any of you have a survival instinct?”

At that we laughed and raised our weapons again. This time I slashed at Mavie. She towered over me, and had a talent for snatching weapons out of grip. Not entirely fair, while my left hand was my dominant, she knew its grip was not as sure. But as Mattis often reminded me, a fight in New Timoran was rarely fair.

Mavie swung. Gripped my wrist. Twisted a few sly twists. My blade fell, and she tossed it ten paces away near the edge of the grove.

My shoulders slumped. Lungs burned for deeper breaths.

“Go on,” she commanded. “I won’t fight you unarmed.”

If my mother heard a maid speak to me in such a way, she’d flay Mavie in the center of the yard. I hardly noticed. My back to the grove, I trudged over to retrieve my dagger. The point had pierced the soil near a tree with tangled roots that reminded me of sea snakes digging up and down in the earth.

I bent to retrieve the dagger, and as I straightened, the whistle of steel and air sliced past my head, followed by a thud. A knife made of black steel stuck into bark. The point narrowly missed the side of my head.

Panic seized my chest. For a breath, the grove silenced in stun. No one breathed, as if none of us could get our minds to consider the next move.

“Never turn your back on your opponent.” The evenness of his voice set my nerves on edge, and at ease in the same breath.

From the shadows Legion appeared, but he wasn’t alone. His trade companion, Tor, and . . . Halvar. The stable hand stood at Legion’s shoulder, a smirk on his mouth.

When Mavie realized we were not alone, that she’d been seen throwing knives at the Kvinna, she clasped her hands in front of her body and prayed. Tearful prayers to gods who cared little for matters of mortals. Siv had a flash of the same fear but gripped her knife as if she might plunge it into Legion’s chest. Mattis simply tracked the three men as they strode into the grove.

As the leading power here, my friends would be mine to defend. Should Legion tell anyone, their necks would be in my hands. A tingle of hot pressure weighed over my shoulders.

“Herr Grey,” I said with a touch of suspicion. In the moment, I hoped the sincere man I’d spent the day with was the true side of Legion Grey, and not an ambitious pariah as Siv suspected. “What are you doing here?”

Legion tilted his head. “My duty.”

My fists clenched and unclenched. “What duty?”

“You, Kvinna. My task is looking out for you. By a happy coincidence, Tor here, noticed someone sneaking off into the thicket. Naturally, we can’t have lurkers about, so we followed. I admit I’m rather pleased with what we’ve found.” He gestured at the towering evergreen in the center. “The bell tower, I presume.”

I stole a worried glance at Mattis. He ignored me, nervously rolling his sword in hand, eyes on Legion and the others. Legion didn’t seem upset or disgusted, hadn’t mentioned anything about reporting the truth.

He’d said nothing threatening at all.

I lifted my chin as a kind of challenge. “There is nothing wrong with wanting my maids and me to know how to defend ourselves. Mattis has been teaching us, so if you plan on telling my father—”

“I have no plans of telling anyone,” Legion said, the irritating smirk tugging at his lips. “Why would I upend yet another interesting thing about you?” He faced Tor and Halvar. “Who would have known a Timoran royal could be so entertaining?”

My limbs relaxed when the other two men laughed. Legion approached the tree. He’d lost the fine waistcoat, and wore black trousers and a dark tunic, laces over his chest undone so a peek of his strong chest caught my eye.

I shook my head, anxious not to let my thoughts think any longer on his skin or—three hells—his bare chest.

Doubtless it would be a pleasant train of thought.

Legion maneuvered the knife until it broke free. “You turned your back on your opponent,” he said, holding the knife like it was made for his grip. Then again, if he truly grew up as a street waif, I had few doubts Legion Grey knew how to handle a weapon. He circled me. “You turn your back, and it gives opportunity for an unseen strike. No one fights fair, I assure you.”

Tor withdrew a stiletto dagger from inside his woolen jacket, and Halvar rested a hand on a small axe clipped to his belt.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“May we not join you?”

Mavie had stopped praying, and Siv shook her head. Mattis grinned.

“Well, uh . . .” I didn’t know what to say. This was highly unusual. First, to have a royal woman sparring with servants, but even more, to have a vow negotiator encourage it. “I wouldn’t mind if you stayed.”

The truth, and I’d say it again for the thrill in Halvar’s eyes, as he let out a pleased cry, and gripped the handle of his axe. Tor said little, and truth be told, he looked uneasy. I nearly snorted a laugh—Tor was Legion’s Siv.

Strange as the setting was, not long and I was laughing, head tossed back, with the others as we set up an awkward circle and watched two opponents at a time. Mattis stood against Halvar, but the carpenter cried out in shock when the stable hand dropped to his knees and took a cheap strike at Mattis’s knees.

Legion grinned, pleased when Mattis’s retreat landed him facedown, Halvar straddling his back, the axe at his throat. “Halvar does not lose, I should warn you all.”

The stable hand flicked his brows, then helped Mattis from the ground.

“How do you know him?” I asked as Siv and Tor took the center, both scowling at the other. Tor wasn’t as broad or tall as Legion, but the shadows in his eyes, the hold of his dagger, told me he could fight as well, perhaps even bloodier.

“We needed a ride here. Couldn’t risk my feet getting tired, not as important as I am.”

“And humble.”

Legion grinned, turning back to the sparring match. “I’ve known Halvar for some time.”

“Oh, respite eve.” Of course, Legion would know Halvar since they both attended each week.

Legion didn’t confirm it, but instead, watched as Siv took the upper hand on Tor. She pulled her signature move of locking one leg around the back of her opponent’s knee, knocking them to the ground, then thrusting the point of her knife at the soft space just below the hinge of the jaw. Not the throat—she said it was too messy, too obvious.

It said something about Tor’s skill when he managed to shake her away before she could finish. They were back on their feet in an instant, lining up for a rematch.

“She’s frightening, right?” I whispered. Legion hadn’t stopped staring at my friend.

“How long has she served you?”

“Nearly a turn.”

That drew his eyes to me. “Only that long?” I nodded. Legion’s jaw pulsed as he studied the footwork of Tor and Siv. “You’re fortunate to find such loyalty from a servant in so short a time.”

A new husk in his voice sent a chill up my arms. Like Siv, I detected a hint of mistrust in his tone. Before I could question him on it, Tor wrapped an arm around Siv’s neck, drawing her against his chest, and held his dagger over her heart.

Siv shoved away and cursed under her breath. Even if he won, Tor seemed as angry that the defeat had been such a challenge.

“Elise,” Mattis said. “You and the negotiator! Let’s see how our Kvinna fares.”

Legion opened an arm up, inviting me to take a step ahead of him. I walked backward, eyes on him as I stepped into the circle. “Never turn your back.”

Legion tossed his knife between his hands, a gleam in his eyes. “A quick learner.”

In the center, I crouched, legs burning as if I’d been running all night.

Legion struck, fierce and swift. I imagined he’d offer a few moments to prepare, so I stumbled back. Legion knew more than his way around a blade, it was as if the steel bent to his will. Jaw tight, I crashed my dagger against the black blade of his. We sparred back and forth. I dodged, he stabbed. I dropped to my knees, rolled to one side; his strike met me there.

“Your fingers, Kvinna,” he said, breathlessly. “How did you lose them?”

An embarrassed flush filled my cheeks. I had forgotten my gloves were at home. I wasn’t about to confess I’d faced the Blood Wraith, not when so many believed the Guild of Shade to be nothing but a terrifying children’s story.

“An accident,” I said. “One I keep close. Surely you understand.”

He bowed his head as he prepared to set up again. “I do. Perhaps one day you’ll tell me.”

Perhaps.

Legion fought brutally. Clearly, he was a man who’d seen too many skirmishes and knew how to end them. My arms powered with heat, but I couldn’t draw in a deep enough breath. I made a clumsy jab, fumbled over my feet, then ended wrapped in Legion’s arm, my back to his chest, his breath on my neck. My elbows swung, aimed at his ribs, but he locked one leg around mine, and dragged us both to the ground. We were a tangle of arms, steel, and legs, breathing heavily.

Legion’s knife tucked against the empty space in my lower ribs. My body still pressed to his, I shuddered when he drew his mouth against my ear. “Congratulations. Yet again, you leave me surprised. You fight well, Elise.”

One of his arms was curled around my waist, and slowly, his thumb drew small circles over the peak of my hip. I’m not sure he noticed, but I held my breath, a bright spark of heat overpowering the need for air.

“I lost, Herr,” I whispered.

“Barely. I’m not sure I can stand, now,” he returned. “I defeat Tor faster than this.”

“Untrue!” Tor shouted, one of the first words the somber man spoke.

Legion laughed and with him so close, I felt it to my bones. We unraveled from each other. The way we’d all fought, the aches would set in before dawn, but I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been this light and at ease.

“I openly welcome you to our unofficial sparring guild,” Mattis said when the first morning birds sang in the treetops. He was bleeding from his lip, but something feral lived in his eyes. Siv nursed a jammed knuckle, I rubbed the tips of my missing fingers, pleased to see Legion with sweat on his brow, too.

“Shall I walk you back, Kvinna?” Halvar asked.

“No,” I said as I sheathed my dagger. Dawn was fast approaching, and we all needed to return separately. The risk of being found out was too great if we tromped through the trees in one group. “Thank you. I’ve gotten skilled at sneaking into my bedroom.”

Halvar smiled, revealing a scar over the dimple in his cheek. I’d never been close enough to notice. “As you say.”

Legion volunteered to stay back with Tor and Halvar to make sure the grove went unseen and undisturbed. They would venture back to the manor the way they had left, unassuming, out for an early correspondence, or some other excuse. I waited until Mavie and Mattis disappeared, then I, too, faded into the trees.

Twenty paces in, though, I realized I’d left my lantern and in the thickest part of the wood I’d be walking blind.

Back at the grove, I paused. Legion, Tor, and Halvar remained. They were speaking in low, deep voices. Why had they drawn their weapons? I’d watched them all sheath their blades. Now each man gripped his without mercy.

I ducked behind a fallen tree when whoever had been speaking stopped and the group broke apart. My pulse thudded in my skull as Siv, eyes wide, face pale, ran from the center. As if she’d escaped an ambush, and the fierce way the men stood, I didn’t think an ambush was too ridiculous a thought.

Siv darted into the night. Never had I seen terror on my friend’s face, but undeniable fear alighted her eyes tonight. Legion signaled to Tor and Halvar, as if they’d not terrified a woman, and together they were lost into the trees.

I leaned back against the fallen tree, heart racing.

Whatever gentility I had seen in Legion tonight, I’d been wrong. It would take anything but gentleness to draw out pallid fear from Siverie.

There was more to him than I realized.

A motive for being here I had yet to uncover.

For Siv, for Mavie, I wholly intended to find out everything there was to know about Legion Grey.