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

I could not leave fast enough.

The discomfort of the bloodspeak rite still rippled over my skin. I had seen the look on Ari’s face. He’d sensed everything. My disdain, my desire. He’d absorbed my fears.

Then again, his own soul was so wretchedly burdened, I thought I might curl over and vomit if I took another drop of his pain. I’d taken it from a distance, a sensation that never truly touched me, but would not leave me in the same breath.

Anger, fierce and raw, had latched onto me. Ari was angry for funeral pyres, so many pyres. He was angry for the old wars that tore up his land, for the people with pale hair who’d brought them.

Then came the guilt for despising them since they were the people of the queen he valued so much.

Sour resentment took up space in his heart for the turns he’d begged and scrimped simply to feed empty bellies for littles in the refuge they’d held during their wars. For being here in this land, even if he valued his position as ambassador, he resented being away from his people. But it was the agony in his soul I could not escape. The loss he hid so deeply, I could not scrounge it up to know exactly what he’d lost.

It was a poison rotting the ambassador from the inside out; enough that with every war, every time he lifted a blade, he held a fleeting desire to fall in battle, all to escape the anguish. An agony he blamed wholly on himself.

I wanted to know what had broken him so deeply, and I wanted to escape him all at once.

Turns of unfeeling, now absorbing the anguish of Ari Sekundär, left me wishing I could take on his pain for his bleeding sake. I wanted to hate him, but I didn’t.

Or I couldn’t. I wasn’t certain I ever had.

I leaned against a tall oak, catching my breath. What was I to do with this heat growing in my chest, this affection for a man who, according to Gorm, would be worthy of my heart?

Did I even know how to be open? I knew pain had been delivered to me at the hands of a lover. Yet . . . Ari had never raised a hand to me. He’d cut with his tongue, but he’d kept me safe, fed, and protected.

The anguish in his face when he’d thought he’d forced himself on me at the tavern, if I’d have told him a lie, there was no doubt the man would’ve gutted himself. He was vicious in many ways, but . . . he’d never truly been terrifying to me. Impolite, a little hateful, true. Then again, so had I.

Laughter stilled my pulse. I peeked around the tree, and a grin split over my face. Gunnar and Eryka had snuck away, and the young prince had his lover pinned to the tree, his hand sliding beneath her skirt.

Eryka beamed against his lips as he took her mouth, hard and greedy.

I planned to sneak away, but the princess’s pale eyes shot open and locked with mine. She patted Gunnar’s shoulder. “We’re not alone. Pity, for I liked where this was leading.”

Gunnar fumbled backward, hair a mess, lips swollen. He cleared his throat and straightened his tunic. “Saga. Uh, I’d apologize, but I’m fairly certain you could tell we were enjoying ourselves, so there isn’t much to apologize for, I guess.”

I chuckled. “My apologies. I know you do not get time alone often.”

“True.” Eryka sighed wistfully as she stared at Gunnar’s profile.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll just leave you to it,” I said, my tongue wanting to stammer with embarrassment. Never had I done well with folk I did not know deeply. But, oddly enough, I paused. A curious thought pressing in my skull. “Actually, may I ask something?”

“No, Ari will never stop mentioning that he was once king.” Gunnar grinned and took Eryka’s hand.

I pinched my lips together, fighting a strange laugh. Almost friendly? No, Gunnar was simply personable. A thief. A grifter with a heart who knew how to appease others.

“I was wondering how you do it.” I gestured at the two of them. “I don’t mean to be harsh, Prince Gunnar, but after all you have seen and survived, how do you devote yourself to the princess?”

“How?” He glanced at Eryka. “I love her. She burrowed into me from the first night we met.”

“I know, but you had a harsh childhood, did you not? Did you not live amongst thieves?”

“I did,” he said. “Thieves who’d die for each other. I was born a prisoner, true, but my parents fought my whole life for their love. It was the most precious thing, even above their lives. They showed me how to risk everything for those in my heart.”

“May I answer the question you will not ask?” Eryka said with a knowing smile. “Yes, such a love is worth the risk of pain.”

“I . . . what do you mean?”

“I think you are asking if the suffering for love Gunnar has seen in his life was worth it? Should you ask his folk, they would say yes. The kings and queens of the lands, I have fought with them.” Eryka grinned with a touch of villainy. “I have seen them kill and terrify to save the one they love. Some may not call them heroes, some may say they are wretched, but as for me, that is the love I want. That is the love I have, and it is worth the risk of pain.”

“Woman.” Gunnar let out a throaty moan. “Let us skip the fanfare and vow here in the damn Court of Blood.”

Eryka’s pale cheeks flushed as she snickered. “I think your mother would bury you.”

“True.” Gunnar sighed, but faced me. “Do you doubt my affection for Eryka?”

“No. Not at all. It’s just for all the things you’ve witnessed and suffered, you could’ve easily shut your heart away from love.”

“I could’ve.” Gunnar smirked. “But all that suffering you speak of, all those wars, at the heart of it all was love that lasts into the Otherworld. I’d fight for that. I’d risk for that. I’d suffer for it, if asked.”

“If ever you have a moment,” Eryka said, facing me, “I hope you will be willing to think yourself worthy of the same.”

The prince pressed a kiss to Eryka’s knuckles.

I chuckled, a tremble of nerves behind it. “I doubt it is in my fate, I was merely curious. I’m pleased you both have found such a thing. I’ll give you privacy. Take it while you can.”

The young lovers waved me away and drifted into the shadows of the trees to steal their precious moments.

An open heart, vulnerable, exposed, it was all worth it to them.

Despite the pain of my existence, perhaps there could possibly be bits of warmth too. Perhaps my heart could learn how to care, how to love so fiercely I went to battle for it.

I turned in the opposite direction, desperate to put distance between us until my heart stopped racing.

Bjorn had graciously directed me toward the hot springs. He’d also given me a crystal stone tied to a strip of leather. The crystal was infused with some potion from Gorm’s poisoner that would still my shift for at least an extra night.

I tied the crystal around my neck and dipped my toe into one of the bubbling springs.

The hot springs, according to the blood captain, would be safe to bathe in solitude since blood fae washed with the sunrise. A way to worship and be closer to the gods.

There were no gods here now, only desperation and an unseemly attraction to an unwitting master.

Stone pools were lined with rivulets of green minerals. Each surface sparkled with damp, mossy growth, and the water was icy blue, so clear I could nearly see the bottom of each pool if not for the thick steam rising off the surface.

Some said the hot springs were the gateways to the hells. Or like the Skald in the tavern, they were the tears of the fate king’s loved one. Me. My tears spilled beneath the cruel hands of the nameless Lord of War were now legends.

It was not all that ancient of a story, but no one needed to know.

With a single glance around the area, I slowly stripped free of the silky gown. The blood fae seamstresses had looked upon new faces and took a bit of delight dressing us like queens.

I stripped bare and slid into one of the pools. The water was deliciously warm. A sting of heat dug into my skin, but I allowed myself to sink deeper until the water touched my chin. There was a great deal to work through, like keeping Ari so woefully focused on himself that he would not notice me sneaking out again to shift, or we’d be back to mistrust.

With Bjorn’s talisman, tomorrow would not be the forced change, but two nights from now. I had time to puzzle out how to keep hiding the secret or . . . perhaps confess the truth and risk losing him if he feared me too greatly.

Losing him. By the damn hells, why was that notion even a concern?

“Where did you go in the night, Saga?”

I jolted away from the slick rock wall in a start. All gods. Ari glared at me from the edge of the pool. On instinct, I covered myself, although I was certain the steam was thick enough it shielded my body from sight.

“Go away,” I snapped. “I was assured I could have the courtesy of privacy from Bjorn.”

“Funny enough, he told me right where to find you.” Ari’s eyes narrowed, and he lowered to a crouch. “All I needed to do was ask. I’m not sure the man has ever told a lie.”

Damn blood fae!

“Leave, Master,” I said, desperate to hide the unease in my tone. I hoped it sounded more like jagged glass. “I am not comfortable with you fully dressed and me with nothing.”

“Fortunately for you, I am entirely comfortable in the presence of a naked woman,” he said. “In fact, it is where I’m most comfortable, but I will ask you again: Where did you go when you left the cave?”

“Nowhere!” I was unaccustomed to emotion, and this man had the ability to pull out every slimy, heated, beautiful feeling in a tangle of shouts, and whispers, and reluctant tears depending on his damn mood. I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to lower. “I went nowhere, Ari. I simply needed space to think about our . . . plight.”

Ari paused. For a moment I thought he might obey, but I ought to have remembered who the hells I was talking to.

Without a word, Ari kicked off his boots, then stripped his tunic. I choked on a sudden gasp, swallowing a bit of the heated water. His chest was made of lean sinew and stone-carved muscle. I’d seen it more than once, but the glisten of steam added a new sensation, and the heat normally felt in my heart slid down my belly until it throbbed between my legs.

The scar down his chest reminded me of pain. Had it something to do with the agony in his soul?

Ari stepped closer as the steam parted. He ignored my gawking at the strong planes of his bare chest and slid his legs into the water, trousers and all. Once he was in the pool, he promptly swam over to me.

No. No. No. He would see.

“Ari.” I hugged my body and shrank into a notch in the pool, praying the steam and shadows would hide me away from him.

His eyes narrowed, but he paused. “I am not here to harm you.”

My breath stilled. Such a firm declaration, such simple words that matched everything from his tone, to the heat in his eyes; I could not deny I believed every word.

Ari swam closer. “But I will look in your eyes, and hear you tell me the truth. For once.”

I held my breath as Ari crossed over the line, the one I’d drawn between my safe distance and his skin touching mine. I ought to shout at him to leave me be, I ought to dive beneath the surface and swim away. I didn’t look anywhere but the burning anger in his eyes.

One hand on either side of the small alcove, he had me caged against the wall. There was a meager arm’s length between us.

“I don’t believe you, Saga.” His voice was harsh and low. “I felt your fear. You don’t want me to find out where you went.”

“But you didn’t feel betrayal, did you?” I squeezed my middle with one arm, crossed my legs, then used my other arm to smash my breasts out of sight until they hurt. “Did you, Ari?”

By the hells, it was the wrong thing to say. He must’ve taken it like a personal challenge to terrify the truth out of me. Ari closed the arm’s length distance and had my back crushed to the wall, his chest against my body. Him, being taller, found his footing on the underwater ledge, my legs flailed about until he hooked his palms around my naked thighs and forced my legs around his waist.

He slid one of his hands off my leg, and gripped around my throat. Again, the touch wasn’t threatening, it wasn’t deadly, even if he might want it to be. His hand was warm, almost safe, like a ballast keeping me upright.

There wasn’t safety in his eyes now, there was something darker, greedier.

“No betrayal,” he said, each word sliced through his teeth like a knife, “but fear of me knowing. You are hiding something from me, and you’ll tell me. If we’re to do this, if we’re to help your damn kingdom, you’ll tell me.”

I tightened my jaw, a silent protest against his demands, and glared back at him. The fear of him discovering the truth was not what he thought. I’d found comfort in his household. I should despise every sunrise bound to the man, but Ari was many things; a violent man wasn’t one of them.

Since the tavern, I carried the pain and suffering of a past riddled in cruelty from the hands of men. Ari had never lifted a hand to the women who worked in his household. He saw their value; he respected them as warriors. I’d seen it in the Eastern battles.

He was not like the man in my memory.

I could insult him, mock him, and he still checked my head for fever, he still slept nearest the door in case we were attacked. He’d become a safe place, and I was not sure if my raw heart could stomach it if he looked at me with true disgust.

“If I told you I am not ready to trust you with it, would that be enough?” I whispered. “The truth of me has not always been received well, Ari. Is it enough for now?”

“Gods.” Ari leaned his face closer, the sigh of exasperation was warm against my face. His eyes held mine, studying me. He lowered his voice. “You are the most aggravating . . .”

His words broke off. Under the water, his thumb had unconsciously stroked my skin at the base of my throat. I winced when Ari dropped his gaze to the steamy surface. He dragged his fingers over the raised ridge of a scar across the protruding bone of my collar.

“Ari.” Panic rose in my throat, thick and furious. “It’s nothing. Please . . .”

It was too late.

Ari’s hands were on me, the gentle glide of his fingertips brushed over scar after scar. His eyes weren’t the ale-amber any longer. They were black as charcoal soot. His palms slid across my ribs, a curl tugged at his lip when the calluses of his hands ran across the deep groove of more ruined skin until he touched my back.

A small gasp slid from his throat. He held my stare, watching me as though he might find the answers he sought in my eyes.

All at once, I prayed the hot springs were a gateway to the hells and would swallow me up. My body trembled; I tried to shove him back. I thrashed, grappled for the pool edge, and fought tears. I would not bend, I would not tolerate his pity, or worse—his pleasure at my pain.

“Let me go.”

He did on my command. I skirted around him until I could reach one hand to the edge of the spring and yanked the satin gown into the water.

I managed to slide into the soaked dress, the fabric billowing in the spring like a black flower bloom. Ari obeyed and allowed me the space to do so, but only for a moment. I whimpered when his hand gripped my chin, so I had nowhere to look but in his eyes.

“Who’s hurt you?” His voice was harsh and soft, calm and feral. “Don’t lie to me.”

“What does it matter to you?” I used my elbow to ram into his ribs. Ari cursed me, but it worked. I was able to break free of him and scramble out of the water.

The black satin dripped around my ankles, clinging to my curves and body like a new layer of skin. Damp as it was the dress did not settle right, and revealed more than one scar across my shoulders and chest.

Ari recovered swiftly and pulled himself out of the water. I blinked away from his dripping skin and tried to flee. Damn the Night Folk fae and their long limbs. He caught me around the waist and spun me around, slamming my front to his chest.

“Look at me.” He didn’t ask, he demanded. Ari’s eyes were ablaze in dark rage. “Speak to me; let me protect you.”

“How!” My knees could not stand any longer. When emotion struck, there were times when it stole my breath, when my head was more fog than anything, and moments when my limbs went brittle as dry grass.

Ari’s arm clung around my waist. He pressed me firmly against his strength, keeping me upright, one hand on my face.

My head arched back; I met his gaze and drew in a trembling breath.

“How?” I whispered. “There is nothing you can do against what has already been done.”

“No.” Gently, he stroked an angry welt that curved over the top of my shoulder. “There are fresh marks.” His face twisted into a tight rage. “Why did you not come to me?”

“Why did I not come to you?” I scoffed to hide the tremble in my voice. “Because you hate me as much as anyone.”

Ari narrowed his eyes.

“I thought I’d made myself clear with that bastard Einar, no one touches you, Saga.” He drew his mouth closer until his lips brushed over mine. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t look away. His voice was rough and low when he spoke again. “No one touches you. Except me.”

Ari took my face between both his hands and kissed me.

I stuttered through the kiss at first, stunned his mouth was on mine. He was commanding and strong. He tasted like fresh rain.

I stopped being stunned and kissed him back.

He backed me against one of the boulders surrounding the hot spring. His body was hard and lean. The sopping dress between us clung to my skin like a weak shield, not worth the effort it was to keep it in place. The damp satin contoured every angle, every curve, and when Ari pulled back, he took me in with a heated stare before he crashed his mouth back to mine.

His leg spread my thighs, and the pressure of him against my core pooled heat between my legs. A new want and need filled my chest. One that was like sharp claws desperate to hook into his flesh and hold him there until the world fell away.

Ari’s fingers tangled in my wet hair and yanked my head back, breaking the kiss. “You are a menace. Like a thorn in my ribs.”

My voice was low, breathless. “And you are an irritant I do not wish to shake.”

Ari licked his bottom lip, like he was tasting the remnants of our kiss. He grinned with a viciousness I’d not seen before. “But I can’t decide if you are a thorn that will tangle into brambles, or bloom like a damn rose.”

He kissed me again, this time parting my lips with his warm tongue. I groaned, unashamed, and curled my arms around his neck. Ari pressed his hips against me. A short gasp slid from the back of my throat when the hardness of his length added friction to the ache between my legs.

It was as if his kiss unleashed a dormant creature inside me. I could not get close enough. I could not touch him enough.

Ari’s lips abandoned mine. His teeth scraped down my throat, his tongue ran over the pulse point. One palm slid up the curve of my ribs. He moved slowly, touching each divot with his fingertips, almost as if giving me time to turn away.

My breaths came heavy when his palm teased the underside of one breast. Wet as the gown was, it did little to hide the curve or hardened peak of my nipple from him. Ari lifted his head for a moment, a gleam in his gaze I wanted to capture in my mind forever. The look of a man who wanted a woman; a man who’d do anything to have her.

He took my lips the same instant his hand covered my breast. I arched my back, arms around his neck, holding him closer. He tormented me as he pinched and flicked and kneaded my skin.

A fresh sort of desire clutched my heart. Curiosity to touch and explore without fear or shame. I hesitated, then recalled the words from Gunnar and Eryka. Perhaps it would be worth the risk.

My hands wanted to touch him the same as he touched me. I wanted to know what he felt like in my palm. The small gasps rolling up my throat, I wanted to hear from his.

My fingertips tugged on the top of his wet trousers. Ari moaned; I tasted the heat of it on my tongue. He widened his stance, and once I’d unlaced the top of the trousers, he gripped my wrist, guiding my palm down his front.

His body shuddered when I took his length in my grip. Gods. He was warm, and velvet, and heavy in my hand.

“Damn you,” he cursed against my neck, breaths sharp as I stroked. His hips rocked into my touch, and a villainous grin spread over my lips. Hells, I enjoyed destroying him in such a way.

Ari met my gaze, eyes dark with a new desire, and slid his rough palm beneath the damp gown clinging to my thigh. A startled huff broke from my throat as a jolt of pleasure surged in my veins, like I’d leapt into a frozen lake in the dead of the frosts, when his skilled thumb swiped over me between my legs.

His thumb circled the sensitive flesh of my core for a few heartbeats before he dipped the tip into my wet heat.

“So perfect.” He groaned. “I imagine you taste sweet.” By the hells he lifted his thumb away and dragged the tip over his tongue. I’d never witnessed anything so tantalizing, so beautifully sensual than this moment. Ari dragged the same thumb across my bottom lip, his mouth close as he rasped, “I was right.”

My breaths would not calm, and I hardly cared. I closed my eyes, and hooked a leg around his hip, giving him space to drive me into madness.

“Ari . . . more,” I said and guided his hands back to my thighs, urging his wicked fingers to claim me again.

I brought attention back to my grip on his length. Never had I wanted to bring another pleasure so desperately, but if I could give him half the feeling he was giving me, I would risk anything. Ari’s breath caught in his throat when my fingers brushed over the tip.

He cursed against my neck, panting. “Woman, you are going to ruin me too soon, and I am not ready to be done with you yet.”

One, then two, Ari dipped his fingers into the heat of my center; I bared my throat, arching into him, his name rolling off my tongue with each stuttered breath. He brought me to a torturous peak.

We touched and kissed and claimed until it shifted once his body sank against mine, pinning me to the boulder, and I was trapped.

Trapped.

A flash of bindings, silken, leather, or sometimes literal chains flashed through my mind. A bed covered in rough, coarse furs unmade. Hot breath with the stink of old ale. New faces, new bodies trapped me. They used me. They took what they wanted no matter how many pleas slid from my mouth, no matter how many tears fell to my cheeks.

I fought, then the lashings came.

Don’t disappoint me, my love.

The same cruel words were tossed at me without a touch of feeling. Nothing but ice. It didn’t matter if blood stained the bed. The lashes would come until I learned to go numb. Until I realized, I’d always be trapped.

It was so clear. So vivid. So swift, a mere flash of a memory before it was gone, but I could smell the stink of blood and sweat.

I couldn’t breathe. Not in the same way as before. I was suffocating, buried under the crushing weight of Ari’s body. The instinct to crumble was there, but I shoved back instead, grappling to be free.

“No!” I shoved his chest. My face was heated as I removed my hands from his skin.

His eyes went wide. “What—” At once, Ari lifted his palms away from my body. He stepped back, face flushed with passion, hair a mess. “Saga, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t.”

My throat closed inward, crushing any chance for enough air to fill my lungs. My eyes were wide, and I hated how when I looked at Ari’s furrowed face all I saw were the sneers of others who’d left their scars in a tortured past.

Tears burned behind my eyes when I imagined Ari doing the same. I’d been loved once, then battered. It shadowed the warm comfort from Ari’s touch with fears of knowing even the most comforting touch could turn violent.

My skin was too hot. I needed to be free. To run. “I-I-I need to go.”

Without an explanation, I fled toward the trees. Before Ari could follow, I folded my body inward. I took the risk of being found out and embraced the snap of bones, the prickle of skin peeling back to glossy feathers. It wasn’t a forced shift, but one made from desperation.

As I flew to the treetops, a cruel laugh sounded in my head. Almost time, little raven.