Den of Blades and Briars: A dark fairy tale romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 7)

Maybe seven lengths from Alvheim, we’d found a crag between two white boulders. It was well concealed with ivy vines and willow branches. Together, Ari and I built a lean-to that would hide us from sight, then spent another clock toll draping leaves, moss, and chopped pieces of sod over the boughs to conceal the hut.

“A few clock tolls, that’s all we have time to rest,” he said, tugging the satchel over his shoulder. With a dark gaze, he watched me remove my fur mantle from my shoulders, then stuff it into a bulge to use as a pillow. “You won’t kill me in my sleep?”

“There are times I think about it.” I said without thinking about the words coming out of my mouth.

“Understandable.” The corner of his mouth twitched like the death threat amused him. “But what of tonight?”

“Tonight, I am too tired to think of killing you.” I closed my eyes.

The answer must’ve appeased Ari enough he leaned against a flat stone, the satchel as his pillow, a knife across his lap. He was at a distance that I could reach out and rest my palm on his chest if I wanted. Of course, I didn’t, but the warmth from his skin was a strange comfort.

I fell asleep, the rush and violence of the evening leaving my veins until exhaustion hooked me from behind and pulled me under into nothingness.

Pleasant chirping from morning songbirds woke me. My knees were tucked into my chest, and my fur mantle was draped over my shoulders, chasing away the chill. But if that was there, what was my head . . .

I tilted my chin. Legs. I was asleep on strong, muscled legs. The sort of legs shaped from turns of training for battle, running uphill, and crouching in the brush.

Ari’s soft breaths stirred my senses. I looked over my shoulder. He was still upright, but had fallen asleep and his head drooped to one side. The knife was in his grip, and his other arm was possessively wrapped around my waist.

I sat with a startle. Ari jerked awake, the blade at the ready.

When his eyes adjusted to the light, he rubbed the sleep away and rose quickly. He scooted to the opening of our shelter, scrubbing a hand down his face. “We should not have slept so long.”

“It was hardly long,” I argued, probably because I could not help but argue with the man.

I doubted we’d ever address how close our bodies had come to being entangled.

Outside the lean-to, I found a trickle of a stream that pooled in a stone crevice and splashed my face with the icy water. Ari scaled a tall oak, trying to orient our position.

He’d cast some illusion while we scavenged for wild berries and roots. I was on the inner rim, but through a murky haze was a glimmer of tall weeds that were not truly there, and jagged drop-offs to dissuade anyone from stepping too close.

The shine of his magic rippled when I touched a fingertip to it.

“Stop.” Ari was halfway off the lowest branch and had a hand scratching his chest.

“What?”

“Don’t touch it.”

“Like this?” I rammed my finger into the sheen again.

Ari cursed me. His hand flew to his chest, and he lost his grip on the branch, falling the short distance to the forest floor.

I covered my mouth and took slow steps toward him. “Did you break your neck?”

He glared at me and pulled himself into sitting. “I would say you wish it, but I don’t think you do. I think you’d miss me.”

I scoffed, but bit down any words, since the words the blood rite dragged from my tongue were, I would.

“You could feel me touching the illusion?”

“Yes.” He grunted, standing, and brushed his pants free of dead leaves and dirt. “It is a malfunction with my fury, I think. Not many illusionists can feel their magic being manipulated. Normally it’s not too great a bother, but with you . . . hells, it itches terribly. And I wish I had not told you that, for now you’ll use it against me. In fact, I’ve never admitted it to anyone.”

“Ah, I do love knowing I make something worse for you.”

“Yes, well, it’s true. Something I have always managed to hide and ignore, for some gods-awful reason, your touch . . . is more palpable.”

I chuckled to hide the onslaught of tight, knotted nerves in my belly. “Why keep it a secret? Afraid your folk will see it as a weakness and dismiss you?”

Now it was Ari who remained silent.

My smile faded. He did. He’d kept such a simple thing from his folk out of fear they would see less value in him. Oh, the things I could do to dig at him by knowing such things.

“You fret over ridiculous things,” I said. “If it does not prevent you from successfully holding your glamour—”

“Fury.”

“—then they would not see you as lesser because of it.”

Ari arched a brow. “Sweet menace, I hate to tell you this, but I think you are trying to uplift me right now.”

“I think you’re being childish about such a simple thing is all.”

“Habits, darling.” Ari waved it away. “When survival cannot afford even the appearance of a weakness, we Night Folk learned quickly to keep any anomalies hidden.” Ari paused. “In fact, there is someone nearby now. They’ve crossed into the illusion. Hurry, we should go. There are townships to the east of Whisper Lake. We can get supplies.”

He told me to stay back and stay down while he let the illusion fall. If folk were nearby we’d need to sneak deeper into the Mossgrove.

Ari closed his fists, and for the briefest instant, the shimmer of his fury magic seemed to reel back into him.

He’d mentioned the sensation of folk being close, but when the illusion fell entirely, I suspected Ari was as surprised as me that, all at once, we were not alone.

Ari cursed and had his blade yanked from his sheath ready to strike.

“Three hells.” He had a hand pressed to his heart. “Eryka.” Then, Ari tilted his head, his tone changing. “Eryka? How did you find us?”

Suspicion raised like sharp teeth on the back of my neck. How did she find us, indeed?

After witnessing the unbridled anger and rage at Ari’s longhouse, I’d already come to accept there was a strange glamour that had taken hold of the people. Who was to say the same had not happened to Eryka, and she was here for malicious reasons?

Eryka had dirt smudged across her cheeks. Her icy hair was a mess and coated in dust, and she held out a small, folded parchment.

“Hodag led us here after catching the scent of your magic. She told me what I was seeing was not real. True enough when I touched the edges, it glimmered. It is a good thing, most troll folk are not impacted by the wild plague or it would be even more difficult for you to stay hidden with their excellent ability to find magic.”

Ari sighed, and shot me a look. He was irritated by the quirk of his fury magic, but in truth I found it to be an asset. A sort of warning for us to use. Maybe I’d even reassure him of it someday.

“The wild plague?” Ari folded his arms over his chest, brow arched.

“That’s what the High King is calling it,” Eryka said. “Those affected, their eyes are like shadows. Not like the Nightrender’s, horrifying as those are, these are different. A mindless kind of dark. Empty. They seem to be stuck in primal instincts to survive by blood and anger and fear. It’s bringing violence to the gates of Alvheim.”

Ari shot me a look. Good. He appeared as befuddled as me.

“Troll folk can find us then?”

A muffled voice returned, “Not like me. I found you with ease, sweetlings, but I knows the scent since I been serving you.” A few short paces into the Mossgrove, dirt rose and Hodag poked her thick skull through the surface. “I smell you better than my dark tracker lovey can track you.”

“Bo,” I whispered. “She means Bo. Hodag practically helped raise him.” I don’t know why I added the small history, but it was true. Bo was raised in the Borough from infancy. Raised to be a blade for the prince at the time, now the king.

Maybe I proffered the truth merely to help us try to puzzle out how Bo and Rune, two warriors who would go to the ends of the realm for Bracken, had ignored his word and were now hunting us.

Only a dark plague like Eryka described could turn them away.

“You made it here all the way from Alvheim, then found us in so short a time?” Ari asked.

“Troll burrows cut down travel immensely,” Eryka said. “I had to reach you before you went too far.”

“Princess.” Ari held up a hand. “Where is the prince?”

“My love?” Eryka’s cheeks flushed. “He, well, he is still with Frey and Stieg.”

“Why are you lying?” I sounded cold, almost hard, but she was being rather cagey.

“I’m not lying,” Eryka insisted. “He is with Frey and Stieg, but he also told me not to do this alone, and possibly doesn’t know where I am.”

“Well, hells.” Ari folded his arms over his chest. “Eryka—”

“Apologies, but it couldn’t wait, I’m afraid. He won’t be pleased when I return, and I still stand by the choice to come.” A slow smile unfurled on her lips. “Then again, he will kiss me for a long, long while because he always does when he worries.”

Eryka lowered her voice to a whisper. “He might even lie us down. I like when he does that. There are times I remove his tunic.”

She squeaked as if she’d told us the most scandalous tale, covered her mouth with her hands, and turned a blood rose red.

Ari bit his bottom lip between his teeth for a few breaths, then cleared his throat. “Prince Gunnar has reason to fret, Princess. It isn’t safe near us.”

“I know. But I said words from the stars again. I checked the skies and read the constellations, just to be certain the same meaning came. Frey wrote them as I spoke, so I would not forget, and I had to bring them to you.”

Ari reached a tentative hand for the parchment. Eryka hugged her middle while he read. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he signaled for me to join him.

“Make anything of this?” He handed me the parchment.

Seek the truth of the mark of love.

Abandon fear, and gain answers in the house of blood.

For the match, make a vow to serpents of silver tongues.

Not all is as it seems. Not all is as it seems. Not all is as it seems.

“I said the last bit a lot,” Eryka explained. “Frey figured three times would get the point across.”

I read the parchment four more times, then looked Eryka. “Is that it?”

“The stars are not known to be clear.” The princess rested a hand over the place where Riot’s rune tattoo was inked on my arm. “Not every mark of love is as simple as it may appear.”

A mark of love. My gaze dropped to my forearm. The rune Riot left for me was a symbol of love.

Ari arched a brow. “What mark?”

I ignored him and kept my attention pinned on the princess.

“Study it out, it belongs to you both, and you both can help each other.” Eryka smiled. “I know it can be irritating how vague my words are delivered. But this star-speak, I feel it with all my being, it could be a guide in helping you find a direction.”

“Thank you,” Ari said. “To take such a risk is well appreciated. But from now on, I must agree with my prince, do not venture away from Stieg and Frey. There is darkness here, Eryka.”

“I know it,” she said. “Something is changing. I’ve not seen such empty eyes in my folk ever, Ambassador Ari.” She pointed at the parchment again. “Which is why I know the stars are desperate to guide you. You have parts to play in this, and I wish I knew what they were.”

My pulse raced. Like her words dug into my veins and settled there as some kind of heavy truth.

“We will be tracking you and will send help through the burrows. Keep watch for us,” Eryka said when Hodag took her hand, urging the princess back toward the burrow. “You are not friendless on this journey.”

When they disappeared under the earth, Ari and I stood in silence for a long pause.

“Any thoughts?” he finally asked. “Difficult as it is to admit, I haven’t the faintest idea what any of it means.”

I did not have a clue either. My finger fell to the second line. “I don’t know about love stories, but I might have an idea of where we find answers.”

Ari frowned. He was clever and might’ve taken a guess himself.

“You are fearful of the blood fae,” I said. “Perhaps it is time to abandon it and find our answers among them.”

“I hate the stars,” he muttered.

I chuckled but would not show the blanket of hot fear surging through my veins. The Court of Blood was once the home of shape shifters. Gorm was known to sense all kinds of glamour. He might have a sense of what was happening in the isles.

“We’ll need to move slowly. Boats across the inlet will likely be guarded by now,” I said.

“True.” Ari rested his hands on his hips and studied the landscape. “We’ll try to get around Whisper Lake as a start. What do you think of the Bridge Isles? Or do you consider Hells Pass the better route?”

It was strange to be part of the plan at all. I’d expected to be a silent partner, forced to be by his side while he decided our fate. It was what masters were supposed to do. Or so I thought?

“If you are asking in earnest—”

“How else would I ask?”

I rolled my eyes. “I think the Bridge Isles will be swiftest, but we’ll need to round back toward the borders of the Court of Hearts. It will have risks. But there are some skiff seamen that sail the Bridge who, for enough coin, will forget any face.”

“We are short on time,” Ari agreed. “Bridge Isles it is.”

He drew a rough map of the area in the dirt. Whisper Lake would take the day to go around if we stuck to the deep wood, then we’d cross a few borderland townships on our way south to the Bridge Isles.

Risk of being seen could occur at any point, but as Ari said, it was our swiftest choice. After he studied his memory-made dirt map for a moment, Ari kicked it away with his boot.

“We’ll try to reach the townships by nightfall, maybe find supplies.” A rumble thundered over our heads. Ari scanned the sky, then slung his satchel over his shoulder again. “Pick up those feet, sweet menace, or we’ll be getting wet.”

Ari was unsettled, and his disquiet unnerved me more than I anticipated.

I did not want to cross into the Court of Blood, but for different reasons. It was possible they would know what I was, and it was even more possible the blood fae would never let me go when they did.