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

This was unexpected.

The slimy bastard was exactly like a snake. But there was more. Call it a feeling deep in my gut, but the way Hawthorne kept drinking his wine and watching me, he was holding back.

Now, the serpent lord had me backed into a corner. A place I wasn’t unaccustomed to being, but this was a different game.

Yarrow beamed at me, hopeful and cheery. She’d done something to Saga. Upset her, harmed her, I didn’t know. But I hated her for it.

Saga trembled at my side but hadn’t refused. We needed to retrieve this heirloom. The whole of the isles depended on it as our only current path to save the Court of Hearts, and save our damn necks.

“I must see it done.” Yarrow clapped her spindly fingertips together. She pouted a plump bottom lip toward her husband, I supposed because Saga and I had not leapt for joy. “Hawth, I wish to see how fate unwinds. All we’ve heard are the tales, never did I imagine we would bequeath the heirloom.”

Hawthorne had changed. He’d become the essence of a web weaver with a fly caught in its silken web, ready to devour it as it strangled the light from its eyes.

“I find it strange you are not overcome with our generosity,” said Hawthorne. “When I vowed with my love, I would have replayed the moment no less than a thousand times if I could.”

Yarrow whimpered, then sprung forward to nip her husband’s ear and his jaw all in a matter of breaths before she settled back in her seat to fan her passion away.

Hawthorne steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “One might assume you were not devoted to your serf lover.”

“This is not a matter of devotion,” I insisted. “This was a matter of stakes and deals.”

“Exactly.” His eyes darkened. Gone was the playful revel lord, and in his place was a sly creature who tricked and schemed, bettering their stations with little regard for other fae. “There is also the matter of you being wanted for the murder of the High Princess.”

My heart fell to my stomach. Like a creeping insect, my fingers walked down my thigh, reaching for the hunting blade I’d stuffed into my boot before leaving the Court of Blood. If this turned bloody, I had few hopes I’d have the strength to fight, use illusions, and get us out with breath in our lungs. Not with so many forest folk still dancing beneath the twilight stars.

“I had nothing to do with that,” I said, voice low. “But it is interesting you have such intimate details, and yet, were nowhere to be seen that night.”

Hawthorne laughed. “Do not play the game of blame, Ambassador. I was not there, and have not left my love’s side for weeks. An entire court will bear testament to it.”

“If you feel such things,” Saga snapped, “I wonder why you have not turned us over to the trackers and guards of the High Court already.”

“It is simple, we are intrigued you came for the heirloom. The unfolding of fate is beginning, and sides have yet to be chosen. We’d like to see it all play out. Can’t very well do that if you are in a cell.”

Weak-spined bastard. He knew of the spreading plague, likely believed some new glamour was emerging in the isles, yet he sat here drinking wine, waiting to see who’d rise victorious.

“This conversation is turning rather surly,” I said and arched a brow. “I detest surliness when it can be avoided.”

“Then make your choice, Ambassador Ari. Do what is asked of you, grant my wife the joy of hosting a vow revel for the potential blood heir, then I will conveniently forget you were ever here. If you refuse, I shall send you back to face your deserved tribunal, and your lover shall become my son’s pleasure mate. Gods know he could use one.”

I shot to my feet. Fire in my blood, hand on the hunting blade, and a glimpse of the fear from Saga’s eyes last night reeled behind my eyes. A fierce urge to see to it no one would ever touch her without her permission raged like an obsession in my veins.

“We’ll do it,” Saga said, gripping my arm. Her voice was sure, determined, and her hand was firm on my wrist. Like a steady place to reel me back to the solid ground. “Well, I am willing. I cannot speak for Ari.”

I flicked my gaze to her, a furrow in my brow. Did she realize what this bleeding meant?

Yarrow let out a little screech of joy.

The serpent lady rose and hobbled over to Saga, and tried to take her hands, but Saga pulled away. The aversion didn’t deter Yarrow in the slightest. “Don’t you fret over a thing. I will see to everything. Hawth, we must give them the lilac cottage tonight. It has the largest bath house.”

“No,” I said. “We need to leave tonight.”

“It will take time to acquire the heirloom. At least until the dawn,” Hawthorne said. “We have done our duty and hid it well, deep in serpent lands. I give you my word, I will send for it immediately.”

“Might as well get some rest.” Yarrow flicked her brows, a sly grin curled over her lips. “Then tomorrow you shall vow.”

Yarrow gave us no time to respond before half a dozen of her courtiers were surrounding us, next dragging us toward a small wood and wattle villa tucked between rows of lilac bushes. One courtier with a constellation of freckles over her upturned nose and lashes like feathers unlocked the small, arched door of the villa.

Two fae girls with tufted ears set to work tossing shutters open. One, who had a fierce snaggletooth, turned down bear pelt coverlets. Another courtier with hair like tree moss shoved us from behind until we stumbled over the threshold.

“Best sleep, my lord. Best sleep, my lady,” all chanted at once, then the door was slammed behind them.

The lock clicked, and silence was the only companion to settle with Saga and me.

Any other time I might find the room pleasant. Hand painted oak drawers were in one corner; two wicker chairs with satin pillows were settled beneath a glass table near the frosted window; beneath one door, steam billowed into the room from the lauded bath house.

Nerves had my pulse racing, and all I knew to do when they clamped around my throat was to talk. “Well, I am not too proud to admit this is a dilemma I’ve yet to face. When we set foot in the Court of Serpents, I expected to leave with a ring, not a wife.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, then flopped back, leaving my feet flat on the floor. Comfortable, soft. Warm. I hardly noticed. My body wanted to move, it wanted to flee, and it took a mighty bit of restraint to keep my gaze on the rafters. All the energy to pop up and run went to one of my legs. My knee bounced until the floorboards creaked.

Saga pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks. “What are we going to do? Ari, what are we going to do?”

I sat up. Her breaths were too rapid. I understood the feeling and knew such thoughts could spin into a tumble of panic if not calmed. I took hold of her wrist and drew her onto the bed before she could protest.

“Ari . . .”

“Hush.” I wrapped her in my arms, then laid us back, and pulled her head to my chest. Her body trembled; her jaw was tight. Blood pounded in my skull. Part of me still wanted to fade between the cracks in the walls, but there was a brilliant satisfaction holding her close, feeling her body relax, muscle by muscle.

Saga’s arms slowly slid around my waist, and she pressed her ear to my heart. I cradled her head there, hoping the fast, albeit steady, beat might lull her into a calm.

“I’ve doomed us,” she whispered.

“It never was my dream to hear my future bride say the thought of vowing with me was worthy of doom, but aspirations can often change in the most unusual ways.”

Saga snorted into my tunic. Her palm smacked my hip bone and her shoulders shuddered. I’d made her laugh, and I thought it might be one of my new, highly prized achievements.

“You should not be making light of this,” she said. “You realize you are about to take vows with your forced thrall?”

My body stiffened. Slowly, I unraveled from her and sat upright. Saga hesitated, then sat next to me, hugging her knees to her chest.

How was I supposed to do this? For too many turns, I’d given up romantic pairings. The only woman I’d offered vows to was Elise, and even then, it was strategic. I’d thought it might unify our lands, but hadn’t realized her hjärta was not only a murderous villain in the kingdom, but the bleeding king.

I was not left with a broken heart when the match never became a match. Truth be told, it had been a relief. Not out of disdain for my queen, Elise Ferus had become one of my greatest friends, but because I’d vowed long ago never to take a wife.

Why burden a woman with a darkness I couldn’t shake? A curse that seemed hells-bent on following me everywhere.

“You do not need to do this, Saga,” I said. “I’m sure we can find another way to get beyond whatever fate vow is required. This could be a trick to satisfy Yarrow.”

“I believe a vow is necessary,” she said softly. “To claim the power of a kingdom was done in ancient times through the strength of two. Just like your king and queen. The tasks must be done by those who understand what it would take to be true, loyal partners in the search.”

I wasn’t certain either of us knew how to do that. “You do not need to waste vows on anything that is not a love match.”

“This is my task, Ari. Look.” Saga tugged on her tunic sleeve and revealed an inked rune on her skin I hadn’t noticed at the hot springs. It was unique. She dug into the satchel and removed the first ring.

My eyes widened. “It’s the same.”

“I’m connected to this journey.”

“How? What happened with Yarrow?”

“She brought back a memory.” Saga touched my shoulder. “But she put one of her damn spells on my tongue so I can’t say the details of why.”

A flash of anger heated my blood. “I knew this was a game.”

“She is sly, but it does not lessen that I also believe this is how the journey moves forward.”

“You believe this hidden power is worth taking vows with me? Truly?”

Saga propped her chin on the tops of her knees and swallowed roughly. “Yes, but it places us both at great risk. I should be telling you to run.”

“You know I will not.”

“I know.”

“So, you agree to this?” I stared at my hands, uncertain why I asked the question. Uncertain what I was looking for in an answer.

“I fear if we do not, the folk of the isles will be lost to this darkness.” Saga took a pause to gather her words. “But it is not so great a stretch to think Hawthorne would follow through on his threat of sending you to the tribunal.”

“And this bothers you?”

“You are innocent in the death of Signe, but you would suffer for the crime, likely for turns without Bracken ever knowing where to find you. To your king you would be lost to the wilds of the South, a tragic case of the dangers of fae folk.”

My knee took up bouncing again. “I waited to hear you mention fears for your fate in those reasons.” I lifted my gaze to hers. “I only heard fears for mine.”

“Don’t read so much into it,” she said, a little breathless.

“I’m reading a great deal into it.”

Saga held my stare for a long breath until she whispered, “I am sorry I’ve stolen a vow from you, but I cannot lie and say my conscience would be at peace should you be harmed.”

A grin teased the corner of my mouth. “Are you saying you care about me?”

“Not at all.”

“Ah, sweet menace, you lie so well.” I propped one leg onto the bed and turned, facing her. “You have not stolen a vow from me since I never intended to take vows, unless politics demanded it.”

Saga’s storm cloud eyes shadowed. “Even still, I . . . I want you to know I won’t stand in the way of lovers. And if you should find a match, I would not protest a second vow, or—”

“Saga.” I gripped her chin gently, my thumb rubbing over the softness of her bottom lip. I wanted to taste them again. “Do you plan to take lovers?”

She eased from my grip, her hand pulling mine away. “I have no lovers, Ari. But if you expect me to be a wife in duty—for you—I will not fight it. My fate has put you in this position; it is the least I can offer for doing so.”

The way she said it with such disdain turned my stomach.

My gaze narrowed. “Sounds like I’ve made off with quite an arrangement. Tell me, how often may I demand you submit to me? Oh, and my other lovers you expect me to take, if they bear my children, you’ll raise them for me, won’t you? As my dutiful wife?”

I shot off the bed, pacing, hands in my hair.

“Why are you angry?” she asked. “I thought you would be relieved to know I will ask nothing of you.”

“Ask of me!” I closed my eyes, jaw tight, wanting to throw something through the glass in the window.

“Ari?”

“I want you to ask of me. Anything.” I wheeled on her. “By the hells, if we are to do this, I want to be your bleeding partner. I am not this calloused wretch you think I am, and I am certainly not in the business of making a woman about to vow with me miserable. What have I done to make you think these things of me, Saga? From the first day we met you’ve thought little of me. Tell me what it is, so I may never do it again.”

I’d seen Saga as a traitor, but the months in the isles, the days in hiding, had left me certain there was a great deal more to her tale than she ever let on.

I stayed my temper, burying my frustration, and softened my tone. “You don’t deserve pain, Saga. I need you to hear that. Whatever has been done to you in the past, I do not believe you deserved it.”

Saga’s fingernails dug into the furs on the bed. When she looked at me with such bright relief, my heart wanted to snap in two.

“I do not understand you, Ari Sekundär.”

“You are not alone. There are many who do not, myself included.” I leaned forward, and Saga leaned back as my arms caged her.

I placed my palms on the edge of the bed. “I will not demand your body, Saga.” I let my gaze drop to her lips. “But I will not deny that I hope you share it with me someday. I hope you share a great deal more with me someday.”

I drew my lips to the point of her ear and whispered, “And if you make that choice, I share with no one. In that moment, you will be mine.”

“Yours?” Fire blazed in her eyes, a bit of the anger I’ve always enjoyed in my reluctant captive burned through the tremble in her voice. “And am I going to be given the same courtesy? May I claim you as you have so arrogantly claimed me?”

“I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.”

“Yes, you say that, but there are many husbands who tire of their wives and find pleasure elsewhere.”

“Perhaps they do not realize their wives have likely tired of their smelly asses first.” I grinned. “I have no plans to be like all those husbands. If you are mine, then I am yours.”

She huffed and looked away.

“You don’t believe me,” I said with a sigh. “How unsurprising. I suppose I shall just prove it to you. I have a great many turns left in my life to tempt you to do so.”

She shoved me back against my chest and rose. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“I do think highly of myself, and think you ought to be giddy with joy at the thought of taking vows with such a man. You shall have a life of endless conversation and handsomeness.”

It had the effect I’d been looking for, the strained, hidden smile she desperately didn’t want to show. “And arrogance.”

“Countered with cleverness.”

“Stubbornness?”

“But a great deal of thoughtfulness.”

Saga tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, unashamedly grinning now. She took a step closer. “I’ll be doused in endless talk over maps.”

“Oh, no doubt. But you’re about to be gifted with a man who can fix nearly anything you toss his way with nothing but a knife and a pebble.”

Saga glanced down, her fingertips curled with mine. “Tomorrow, I’ll gain a husband who strives to be the loudest in the room.”

“But one who also knows how to braid any style in a woman’s hair.”

She covered her laugh with her palm. “Oh really? So, I forever have a stylist? I’m curious at this talent I’ve never seen.”

“It comes thanks to three sisters who practiced on their poor younger brother for the first ten turns of his life.” Hells. It was as if the words fashioned a fist and caved my chest in.

Saga must’ve noted the shift in my countenance, for with too much tenderness she rested a palm on the side of my face. Unbidden, I leaned into the touch like a craving.

“I’ll gain a husband plagued with nightmares he won’t share with anyone.”

I curled my palms into fists so the bite of my fingernails in the meat of my thumb kept my mind focused on little else.

“Yes.” I had no witty remark. It was the truth. She did not know the things I’d done in my past. She did not know what burdens broke my back. She did not know how so much suffering was all my fault.

Saga’s thumb brushed over the stubble of my jaw. “You say you hope I will share myself with you someday. Perhaps between the biting remarks and all the cutting each other at the knees, you might share the burdens that torment you here—” she drifted her palm to the side of my head. “Perhaps I’ll want to ease some of them for you.”

My hand covered hers on my temple. I pulled it down, pressing my lips to her palm. “I want to kiss you.”

Saga swallowed and slipped her fingers into mine. “I want to let you.”

I didn’t kiss her. I devoured her.

Saga was no meek thing. Her fists curled around my tunic like she might lose her footing if she did not. The kiss was different than before. My hands held her face, slanting her mouth to the angle I wanted. Tongues, teeth, desperation, all of it tangled in a fierce collision.

She pulled me over her, tilting us back onto the bed. My body covered hers. In the moment she was almost delicate. Her lean limbs, the scars I knew were under her clothes, the trust she was offering having my larger, heavier body over hers. She was trapped under me. We both knew I could do as I pleased if I wanted. To have her there, grasping at my hair, digging into the flesh on the back of my neck, it was more trust than any other woman had given before.

Fully clothed, and still I felt as if she’d handed over a bit of faith in me that ought to be cherished. A faith I’d die before I broke.

I wanted all of her. My hands wanted to claim every piece of her body and skin, but I kept them on her face, cupping her jaw. For now, I’d only kiss her. I’d kiss her for all the times I’d wanted to kiss her but shot jabs at her instead. I kissed her until we both seemed to forget how life would change tomorrow.

For a moment, I drew back, holding her glassy eyes.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“I’m just thinking,” I said against her lips. “I’m thinking how beautifully right the woman I’ve tried to hate feels in my hands.”

Saga dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. She threaded her fingers through my hair, as if memorizing the feel of it around her hand, then nudged my head down until she kissed me again.