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

I woke tangled in Ari’s arms again.

This time I didn’t unravel as fast as I could. This time, I nuzzled against him until he blinked awake. We traded kisses, lazing about in bed, until the door burst open with Yarrow’s courtiers carrying wooden trays of steaming berry scones, sweet jellies, and rose petal tea.

We’d eaten with an audience of courtiers, then the jittery women practically dragged Ari from the bed, sending him away, so I could be prepped for the vows.

He’d left me with a final look over his shoulder. Those amber eyes soft and safe. Deep down, I always knew he was, but from the first glance he shattered all the hardened shells of my heart, I did not know how to process anything but the fear of him.

The courtiers had me in a lavender and honey bath before the food settled in my stomach. The green-haired girl sat behind me on the ledge of the stone bath and washed my hair with a sugary soap made from lilacs. The freckled courtiers scrubbed every speck of dirt from beneath my fingernails and toenails, then the woman with fangs brushed and braided my hair around a crown of blossoms and sage.

I’d never been so pampered. Not that I could recall. Strange, but I became lost in it. By the time the giddy courtiers positioned me in front of a gold-rimmed mirror, the moon had risen over the Court of Serpents, and the distant sound of pan pipes announced the celebration.

“Lovely,” said one of the girls with tufted ears.

“A goddess,” added a fae with freckles.

I was a bit stunned myself. Yarrow had lent me a gown much like my eyes. Made of stormy silver satin and ruffled in pale blue lace. Along the hem were gold stitches of acorns and oak leaves. The sleeves were absent, and scars trailed up my arms. The courtiers had soaked my skin in gold shimmer powder, but they were still visible.

For once I did not recoil at the sight of them.

Ari knew they were there and touched me anyway. He’d witnessed the welts and kissed them as if it might take the memory of pain away.

“It’s time, My Lady.” A courtier held the door open, and I was escorted in the middle of the group.

A small gasp slid from my throat when I took in the courtyard of the serpent den. Serpents vowed in the deep night, and I could see why. Every tree glittered like starlight from silver dust and glamoured white blossoms.

Yarrow was petulant and needy, but she knew how to throw a brilliant celebration. The pathway from the cottage was lined in golden lanterns. Each was tied in a pale blue satin ribbon with tiny blossoms pinned to the front. Across the mossy path were glamoured flowers that added a sweet perfume to the forest.

Butterflies kissed the centers, then settled on the back of my gown, as if kissing the fabric in well wishes. In the treetops, glittering ribbons wove together like a quilt of color in the leaves. Once we rounded a bend in the path, the trees seemed to part, and opened to log benches topped with fae of all sizes and shapes. Trolls, imps, deep wood fae with their raggedy cloaks made of sod. Beautiful fae with eyes like starlight, and warrior fae more like Night Folk with brawn and strength in every divot of muscle.

I hardly saw any of them. My eyes went to the end of the path where Ari stood next to Hawthorne, Magus, and every other son born to the lord and lady.

I’m sure they looked glowing and handsome, but I could not look away from the man beside them. Ari had been dressed in a tunic of dark blue, silver, and stitched runes along the cuffs and hem. His hair was still tousled but braided off the sides and pulled half up on his head. The tops of his hand were inked in runes, and the bottoms of his eyes were darkened with kohl.

He was a beautiful warrior, both safe and deadly.

And I could not stop the race of my pulse when his lips parted once he looked at me.

I could almost pretend we were doing this because we wanted to, almost like that look was because he was a man in love and had lost his breath at the sight of his bride.

I allowed the daydream to live in my mind all the way to the end of the path where I took Ari’s hands. It would be dangerous to let him burrow into my soul, and I knew it. Astrid still wanted him dead. And if the voice in the shadows truly was Davorin, he would destroy Ari to destroy me.

Yarrow’s courtiers stood at my back, the lady of serpents seated close by, dressed in a long, diaphanous gown, one hand on her belly.

The heat of a hundred gazes crushed my shoulders. The fog of unease began to grip my mind but was stalled when the warmth of lips touched my knuckles.

Ari kissed my hand, his eyes locked on mine. Almost like he knew my head had started to spin and was silently returning me to stillness.

I kept my eyes on him. His thumbs brushed over the tops of my hands as an old, withered fae with a headdress made of tangled twigs and leaves began reciting prayers to the gods. I did not repeat the words in my head, but fought to repeat that Ari and I were doing this for a greater purpose. Nothing more.

He’d kissed me, but it did not mean he felt deeply for me. Men enjoyed the touch of a woman. Ari was known for his velvet words, his coy turns of phrase. The sugared words he’d said last night could be nothing more than a bit of decency in helping me feel more at ease.

I thought all those things until I met his gaze.

By the hells, I wanted to curse him, shout at him, plead with him to stop gazing at me like I lit the day with sunlight. I’d never felt like a stunning creature, not like Sofia, or Astrid. I was a prickly woman with a sword who did not smile.

The way Ari stared at me in the moment, I’d never felt so radiant.

“It is customary in the isles to trade a token, a ring as a symbol of an unbreakable, eternal vow,” said the old fae. He gestured with knobby fingers, each knuckle cracking, until a small, goat-eyed boy scurried to the front with a black box in his small hands. “I am told there is already one ring.”

“Saga,” Ari whispered.

I startled and forced my eyes away from his face. “Yes.”

From the folds of the gown, I took out the wooden ring.

“Right.” The old man picked up the box from the fae boy. When he lifted the lid, the twin to the ring in my hand was on a folded linen. Instead of Riot’s crest etched in the center, white lines in the shape of raven wings sprawled around the band.

The old fae faced Ari. “Recite a vow of sincere heart, then take your fate into your hands.”

“I don’t need to say anything specific?”

The fae’s thin lips pinched. “This may not be touched unless the heart is spoken. I assure you the Norns will know should lies be told today.”

“No need to irritate the testy Norns.” Ari chuckled, but I think it came from nerves more than anything. He licked his lips, then spoke, soft and low. “Saga, I vow to protect you. I vow that you will never have need to fear me. I vow to treat the title of your husband with all the honor and devotion it deserves. To me, that means you have my loyalty. Into the Otherworld.”

One of the sharp pangs from too many unfamiliar emotions wrenched my chest until it seemed as though my bones had cracked open, baring my vulnerable heart for all to see.

I feared what it meant. I relished it.

“Take your fate.” The fae man held up the pillow.

With the slightest tremble to his fingers, Ari reached for the ring. The moment his skin touched the wood, a shimmer gleamed over the raven wings.

Ari coughed, as if the air had been ripped from his lungs for a moment. His eyes were wide, and bright as he slid the ring on his center finger.

The ancient fae grinned and looked to me. “My lady. Your vows.”

A dozen vows I wanted to say rattled through my head, but I dared not speak them, afraid shadows would hear, afraid they’d report the truth of it to the one who could tear it all away.

I slowly slid the first ring onto my center finger. The burn of wood was deliciously comforting, and for a moment I could almost hear a whisper in my head telling me this was the move of my fate. Almost.

“Ari,” I said, voice rough. “I vow to honor and protect you.”

I tightened my hold on his hands.

I vow to cherish you.

I vow to speak the truth.

I vow to give you my heart.

Those would be words I might’ve said if our lives were different.

I glanced over my shoulder for half a breath, certain a wretched laugh drifted in the darkness, then forced myself to cling to Ari, to see only him. Even for a moment longer. “I vow loyalty to you alone. Loyalty of my choosing.”

I hoped he understood. No bond of a century would keep me loyal to him. Only my heart. His jaw pulsed, and the heat in his eyes told me he did.

At the end of my vow, a back panel on the ring box lid clicked and fell open.

The old fae hardly flinched before handing Ari a sealed parchment, yellowed with age. “The vows were accepted and now are sealed with a kiss.”

Ari took the parchment, blew out a long breath, and met my gaze. He covered one side of my face with his palm. My heart was in my throat, but I leaned forward, anxious to taste him again.

The kiss was soft and gentle. A tender kiss with the power to weaken my knees.

He pulled back after a moment, pressed his forehead to mine for another breath, then straightened again.

“Now, the final piece,” said the old fae. “The Revealing.”

“The what?” Ari and I asked at the same time.

“My darlings, The Revealing is the truest way hearts can join,” Yarrow said. “This is why the Court of Serpents have superior partnerships to lesser courts.”

I fought the urge to remind Yarrow she was technically lady of a lesser court.

“Trust and devotion can only come when our deepest fears, our most horrid sins, our darkest secrets, are given to the one we love,” said Hawthorne. “A final bond of unity by revealing a shadow in the heart.”

The old fae held up two glass vials, each filled with a clear liquid that I might think of as water were it not for the ribbons of silver running through the potion. He tilted his leaf-coated head at Ari.

Whatever Ari might’ve felt for me today, last night, maybe ever, it would be altered should that potion force my tongue to reveal I’d lied to him. It might change if he knew I was his raven, and the reason darkness was rising in the isles.

A soft applause filtered through the crowd, and we were each handed a vial. Ari looked at the potion, a pallid color in his skin.

“Drink.” The old fae was losing patience.

I wanted to scream at Ari that I concealed the truth to keep him protected, to keep his folk protected and away from Astrid and those who’d like to steal fated thrones. Yarrow and Hawthorne both looked slightly irritated that we were hesitating. There was nothing to do but drink.

The potion was bitter. It scratched like tiny, hooked claws all the way down my throat, like the magic within dug out truths we tried to hide.

“The next words are for you alone,” said the fae. He gestured for us to lean close to whisper.

I had no thoughts. There was no truth, no secret buzzing in my head. Perhaps the potion didn’t work. Ari winced, his grip on my hands was as if he hoped to break my fingers. He drew his lips close to my ear.

“I . . . I killed the first girl I loved.” His forehead furrowed.

My mouth parted. He pulled away as if I’d slapped him and wouldn’t look at me. There was pain written everywhere on his face. No. I couldn’t reconcile such a gruesomeness with the man who’d touched me with near reverence last night, the man who could’ve broken me for months but had never lifted a hand. How could he claim such a brutality?

Bile burned my throat. No, not bile, words. Words I could not stop, words I did not know before they were ready to spill out. I whispered to Ari, “I am . . . I am compelled to serve a tyrant.”

Ari dropped my hands. A pinched wash of pain on his face. “I see.” Ari looked at Hawthorne. “May we take our leave now?”

Hawthorne mistook him for a man eager to be with his bride and laughed. “The door to the lilac cottage is to be sealed and undisturbed.”

Folk in the crowd cheered and applauded, and prepared for the revel celebrating our vows for which we would not be attending.

Ari sneered at me. “Come, wife. Your tyrant awaits.”