Song of Sorrows and Fate: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 9)

Outside the air was dark, dreary. Smoke billowed from the pyre that was quickly fading in the crevice Valen Ferus had built. But smaller fires were lined on the edges of the sea fae camp. They’d claimed our shores, and now it would be up to us to shove them back to the sea.

Raven Row was vastly different than it had once been.

Tenements and grimy alehouses were now stone towers and walls, and the spindly trees that once surrounded the Row were full and plentiful. Knolls offered various terrain. We had little time to plan and plot how this battle would be won, but if we could but hold them off today, we could better know what we faced. What their weak points might be.

Warriors lined the gates, their shields raised with blades out.

The three eccentric rune seers danced behind Calista and the front line, as though wild cats ready to pounce. They were youthful now, their haggish appearances gone with the curse over our world, but they remained as irksome as ever, muttering nonsense that wasn’t truly nonsense.

Trouble was, their words only made sense in the moments in which they were happening.

“This is the part where dreams descend.”

Calista spun around. “Forbi, what did you say?”

Forbi tossed her long braid off her shoulder and dropped a few bone chips, burned with glowing runes on each side. “Let the dreams descend and find the end.”

Danna spun around, chanting the same words in a sing-song tone, until she added. “Gifts of fate unite this day, used with purpose to end the pain.”

The rune seers danced away, casting their spells alongside the casters of the forest clans in the Southern Isles. Added defenses. Small curses—a spell of stumbling feet, of disillusionment, of a constant bleed to the nose.

Simple pauses that could turn deadly if a fae stumbled enough.

“Silas.” Calista took hold of my hand.

“I know.” I kissed her knuckles. “A dream descends. There is a path to take here, we must simply find it, Little Rose.” I faced her, one palm on her cheek. “We’re not alone here. These words, these paths, I like to think they are the king, the queen, and the captain fighting this fight with us. I like to think they’re guiding us.”

She closed her eyes and leaned against my palm. “I think you’re right. They’re here with us.”

Once we shoved our way to the front of the gates, I pointed my attention to the ships. The royal ship and its crimson sails were the most wretched. Dark laths and spiked edges. The various vessels beside it weren’t much better.

“Flanks!” Valen shouted to his army. “Take the flanks! Try to trap them in the center.”

If we could herd the sea folk toward the center of the Row, then Valen would split the earth beneath their feet.

It would be taxing for the king. It’d drain his fury, but we would follow with blades, with fear, with illusions.

“What sort of power do you think those slimy sea fae carry besides lust songs and thrashing tides?” Calista whispered.

“I don’t know. I never learned a great deal about them. We only know the boy king has poisonous blood, yes?”

Calista winced. “That is what I’m told. Don’t make him bleed.”

I was not in the habit of making boys bleed, but should that boy king try to touch her—his blood, poisonous or not, would spill.

Maybe it would be wise to block the sea fae from the sea completely. Drag them into the pit of the earth, then pummel fire at their bleeding ships. How long could they last on land before the drier air caused the land sickness where their skin cracked and they grew weaker?

I gripped the bars of the gates, studying their movements. Already lines of sea fae were arranged in orderly units, much like us.

From the upper towers along the fortress edges, Gunnar Strom and his silent, cursed princess mother were seeing to it endless quivers and fresh arrows were available. The archers and the warriors along the walls on the inside of the palace grounds would be the final line between enemies and Hus Rose.

“Being that you were locked away as a boy, I feel it’s within reason to ask if you handle a blade well enough?” Ari stepped beside me, his gaze ahead.

I cast a quick look at Calista. She fiddled with one of her knives, but I had few doubts she was listening.

“I can fight. You likely fight better. Don’t let that rush to your head.”

“It is there,” said Ari. “Nestled and warm beside all my other astonishing attributes.” His face sobered, and he gripped my shoulder. “Keep to your fight. You cannot let anything else distract you, or you could become a liability to others and yourself. You hear what I’m saying?”

Ari was not subtle. Nothing about the man worked in subtleties, and he tipped his head dramatically toward Calista.

That was a problem, one for which I had no solution.

“If she is in danger, I will not look at my fight. I will join hers.”

Ari let out a long sigh. “It was worth a try. Can’t say I blame you. None of us would do it differently either. Don’t die, Wraith. You need to live long enough to become utterly enamored with me like all the rest.”

I was not witty but planned to say some sort of offensive remark. All jests and taunts choked off when the final plume of pyre smoke receded, as though the earth were drawing it back inside the crevice in an instant.

Blood burned through my veins. Through the fading clouds of ash and smoke, Davorin’s pale, cruel grin met us. He’d lined his eyes in kohl, runes lined his lips and throat. He looked every bit the battle lord of my childhood, only more wretched, more like a creature than a man.

Sea fae split as one of their own, a man with long hair past his shoulders, rings pierced in his ears, and two horrid, curved blades in either hand, stepped through. At the sea fae’s side was a lanky boy, tall enough he looked like he was caught between being a man and still a boy. His face was bruised, his lip crusted in old blood, and there was a slight tilt to his body. It was as if he were angling away from the man yet did not want anyone to take note.

He was not the boy king, but clearly another expected to fight in a man’s war.

“You have bits and pieces of armies,” Davorin’s calm, dark voice lifted. “We have a kingdom here to stand against you. Lay down your blades and only a few will shed blood.” He smirked, knowing damn well no one would set their swords aside at his request. This was his game: toy with his food, then strike as though he offered mercy and his victims refused. “The only blood for which I will take—the Golden King.”

Ari scoffed but didn’t take the taunt.

“And one of the seidr workers.” Davorin’s gaze fell on me. “Preferably the boy. I’d like to see if Riot Ode’s daughter screams like her aunt.”

Ari and Calista seemed to have the same thought and grabbed me in the same breath. Calista’s hand on my arm, Ari’s on my shoulder.

“Let him have his fun,” Ari whispered. “Take out that anger in blood, Silas. Another wise battle lesson from me to you.”

A response to Davorin came, harsh and furious. “Any other pointless demands, you bastard?”

I nearly laughed when I realized it was Elise Ferus who’d spoken. To Davorin, the Queen of Choice would be a mere mortal, a woman whose life was only extended by the mercy of the fae folk. She’d be a simple kill to him.

Truth be told, I thought he’d be quite wrong.

The flush to her cheeks gave up the rage in her heart. The swift way she spun a blade proved she’d been taught well. The fire in her eyes revealed the determination to slaughter on behalf of her people.

Davorin chuckled with condescension. “Yes, actually. Give me my little raven. It’s been too long since I’ve tasted her.”

I slammed my palm against Ari’s chest when he made a move for the gate. “Let him have his fun, Golden King. Take out that anger in blood.”

Ari’s jaw pulsed, but he stilled, a murderous kind of look in his eyes.

“The Ever Kingdom stands against the earth realms.” The sea fae beside Davorin shouted, a wicked sneer on his mouth. “In the name of the king, we have come to claim your land and—”

“We’ve no wish to hear you, Harald,” Valen shouted. “We recall you well enough. If a king declares war on another kingdom, then let that king speak.”

“I speak for the king of the Ever.”

Davorin chuckled, as though the heated words were a bleeding thrill. His smile faded soon enough when a firm voice cut through.

“You do no such thing.” The fae parted again.

“The boy king,” I said, nudging Calista’s ribs. She nodded, and blanched. “What is it?”

“Why is he important?”

I studied the boy as he trudged forward. Young as he was, his people moved aside, almost fearful.

In the new dawn, the boy had removed the hat. A black, silken scarf was tied over his head. Like Harald, the boy had gold rings pierced in his ears, but like me—there were scars written on his skin. One through his lip, more down his throat in cruel gashes of raised, pale flesh. He walked with a slight limp, but the way he clenched his fist, I suspected he fought hard not to.

“Erik.” Stieg moved toward the front of the gates. “Do you remember me?”

The boy king halted. His eyes were like the red of the moon at night. They narrowed. “Warrior.”

“There doesn’t need to be war, Erik. There doesn’t.”

He chuckled. There wasn’t anything friendly about it. With a quick breath the boy king opened his arms and raised his voice. “I am Erik Bloodsinger, King of the Ever. Unlike my uncle, I am not here for petty squabbles of earth fae.”

“Boy, cease this talk,” Harald spat. “We spoke before—”

“Do not address your king with such careless words, Uncle.” Erik practically hissed at the man.

There was hatred between them. Hatred Davorin loved.

“Why are you here, King?” Valen asked, giving the boy a bit of respect.

Erik faced the Night Folk king, drew his sword, and aimed the point at him. “You. For the death of King Thorvald, I am here to challenge you for the power of the Ever.”

“We came for the earth realms,” Harald spat, trying to keep his voice low, but anger drove his tone loud enough the wind carried it.

Erik ignored him. “There is nothing I could ever want from the earth fae but the power you stole.”

“I would give it back, should you wish to speak peacefully,” Valen said.

“Give it back.” Erik chuckled bitterly. “The mantle is bestowed by the blessing and curses of a sea witch. Such a thing cannot be given back when it was conquered. I’ve given you the honor of my warning, King. When we meet next, it will be with blades in hand.”

“No, it won’t,” Calista whispered, then shook her head like she hadn’t meant to say it.

A burn grew in the back of my throat. The sense of a dormant song. Whatever she was feeling was beginning to carve into my blood.

The Falkyn’s wife, Junius, if I recalled her name, leaned into Valen. “He’s speaking true. This war is not truly brought by him, but he wants revenge for Thorvald.”

Valen sighed with a bit of disappointment. “As you say, Ever King.”

“Willing to meet our demands?” Davorin stepped in front of Erik Bloodsinger.

The boy king shifted aside; he pinned a dark glare on the battle lord.

Valen stretched his palms. By his side, the Shadow King did the same, dark coils of night wrapped around his hands.

“Your demands are rejected.” Valen answered for the lot of us.

In the next breath, the Night Folk king slammed his palms onto the cobbled walk, and the world bent and snapped.

The battle began.