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

Dawn broke through the trees when the Golden King smashed his way into the small lean-to I’d claimed with Calista.

“Up,” Ari said, kicking at my boots. “Something’s happened in the sea fae camp. Need to see if we need to alter plans.”

Calista snapped up at my side. “I’ll kill them all if they’ve gone and done something that makes us shift our moves. We spent all bleeding night roving over every damn detail.”

I agreed, but kept quiet, snatching my sword before we followed the others to the edge of our small camp. Seidr wards from Calista’s blast over Torsten were fading, but still a glimmer caught the gray dawn when we reached the edge of the trees, crouched low.

What cover we needed fell to the hands of Kase and Ari. The Nightrender draped us in darkness with our own bleeding fears, and Ari used his illusions to twist the shadows to appear natural. Mere phantoms in the trees.

The sea fae camp was moving about, some frantically, others stood still on the edges near one of the canvas tents.

“The battle lord,” I whispered near Calista’s ear. “By the shore.”

Davorin had his arms folded over his chest, a taut frown on his stony face. The man was like a pestilence, a sliver of darkness in the dawn, a stain on what might be bright and lovely. He brought with him an aura of pain, and I could hardly wait to rid the bleeding world of it.

“There.” Ari said, voice rough from somewhere down the line. “Who is it?”

Sea fae emerged from the tent, a body held on long furs between them in the makeshift cot. Someone had died.

My blood froze when a boy emerged after the body. Then another. Erik Bloodsinger followed the procession to the sea with haughty arrogance.

“All gods,” Calista said. “That’s Harald. He’s . . . dead.”

Unbidden, a grin split over my face. No wonder Davorin was fuming—his loyal, high-ranking sea fae was gone.

By the looks of the young sea king, there was no disruption to his day at the death of his uncle. Erik waved a hand, and a billow of frothy tides snatched the body of Harald and devoured it in the sea. Without a backward look, the boy king strode off into another tent, wholly unbothered.

“Come on,” Kase muttered to the rest of us. “This is not a hinderance to the plan. If anything, it is a bright morning.”

“Strange, hearing such optimism from you, my dreary friend,” Ari said. “But I shall take it. Davorin meets his end today.”

There was an inspiring viciousness buried beneath the levity of Ari Sekundär, but I embraced it. My life held little meaning for centuries, but today—to my bones—I felt if I succeeded, all the pain, the ghosts, the shadows, the agony, would be worth it.

A hand slapped against my arm. The Nightrender glared at me with his inky black eyes. “Come on, Wraith. Let us see if you can hit those marks.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Calista’s forehead was furrowed in worry as I strapped the sword to my waist. “What if he ends it straightaway?”

“He won’t get the chance. You know he’ll want to make a spectacle of it. Offer ransoms and bargains. He’ll want to use this against the Raven Queen and Golden King. We’ll have time.”

Calista gripped my arm, her fingernails dug into my skin, and for the first time I caught sight of the glassy tears she was trying not to shed. “What if. You’re. Wrong.”

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, slow and tender. My hand cupped the side of her face when I pulled back. “We’re bonded, Little Rose. To the soul, and that is key here. I am not leaving this battle without you, believe that.”

Calista closed her eyes and leaned into my touch for a few breaths before snatching her knives and leading us back to the clearing.

Midday was approaching. The last tolls of the night were spent plotting and marking the next moves. With Harald gone, we needed to act before Davorin grew frustrated with the boy king’s lack of enthusiasm for battle, and more obsession with hunting Valen.

Left too long, Davorin might try to overtake the whole of the sea fae by killing the king. Some of the plan depended on my suspicions about Erik Bloodsinger.

The sea fae were an obstacle, true, but Davorin was the head of the snake that brought them here. Cut it off, and the rest would die.

Seidr boiled in my blood. Calista feared the next steps, but I saw the flash in her gaze, I saw the way her body seemed to burn as much as mine with the pulse of our power.

This was the step. It had to work.

What would it be like to live . . . free at last?

The thought was almost too damn overwhelming to even imagine.

“All right.” The Nightrender rose from drawings in the dirt. A plan for movements, for marks, as he called them. Saga aided in the landscape. Ari and his knowledge of maps aided in distances and realistic expectations of movements. Kase glanced at the drawing again. “This will move fast. Our different magicks will be stretched. Do not exhaust yourselves before the right moment.”

The crowd nodded.

Halvar Atra and Raum from the Kryv would take the left and right flanks with the warriors. Hagen Strom, his son Dain, and daughter Laila were returning to Hus Rose to aid Herja and the archers.

Eryka kissed Gunnar. Glistening tears tracked her pale cheeks. “I will miss your scent while you are gone. Blood is such a wretched smell and somehow, when you are near, I only breathe in you.”

Gunnar kissed his wife, long and hard. “I will miss you. All of you. Stay down. Stay safe.”

“Make him pay.”

Gunnar added another tender kiss to her forehead. “I’ve been waiting to do just that since the day he put his hands on you.”

Calista had informed me of the beatings and torture Eryka had endured when she’d been captured by Davorin in the isles. There were personal debts the bastard owed us all. Somehow, we did what we could to fit them all in, to find a way for everyone to take their bit of blood today.

Eryka stood with Tova and Isak and Fiske. They would guard the wounded. Isak was added for his ability to blind any enemies who’d come close, and Fiske for his premonitions.

Gorm bid his son farewell. Cuyler was aggravated no one would let him join, despite a damn hole in his skull still bleeding where he was missing an eye.

He wasn’t alone. Most of the wounded who were asked to remain back had complaints. We’d all fought to be here. To sit out and be nursed tenderly while we fought to end this at long last, seemed wholly unfair.

Gunnar came to stand by me, a small knife hidden in his boot. The thieving prince flashed a grin. “Ready, Wraith?”

“No.”

He chuckled. “This is why I like you. Direct. To the point.”

“I am ready in some ways,” I admitted. “In others, I have a great deal of fear.”

Gunnar dipped his chin. “That’s the thing I learned when I ran with the Kryv—all of us are always afraid. Use it to bring you back to Cal. Out of all of us, if anyone could traipse into the Otherworld to shout at you for dying too soon, it’s her.”

I smirked. A new sort of ease was beginning to shape around these royals. One I never thought I’d fear. I still took comfort in solitude, but speaking a few words, sitting amongst them, wasn’t so taxing any longer.

Malin approached, a somber expression on her features. She unfurled her palm and held out the queen’s ring. “It will move swiftly once this is in play, Silas.”

I nodded and slid the ring on my smallest finger. Heat from the power within it burned into my skin.

“Keep up, Ari,” Gunnar said, tethering a silken scarf over his head. There was still blood in the fabric from one of the fallen sea fae who’d once worn it, but it would only aid us now.

Ari tugged a cowl over his head, frowning as he secured the heirloom blade to his waist. “Keep your steps as they ought to be, and I will not lose you.”

“We need to go.” Kase tilted his head to the sky. “Much longer and they’ll be readying to make their moves. Get him isolated, Gunnar. Then, Wraith, do what you must do. This ends today.”

Calista stood a few paces away from the others. The royals had bid their farewells if their hearts were leaving.

I had not.

Scrutiny, other gazes, other folk, for the first time did not cross my mind when I went to Calista Ode. I trapped her face in my palms and kissed her. Long, deep, a lasting sort of kiss that I hoped would bring her back to me soon.

Her lips trembled when she pulled back. “I don’t need to threaten bodily harm to make sure you return to me, do I?”

I grinned. “Threaten you’ll never touch my body again and this will be over in the next clock toll.”

She gave me another quick kiss. “I love you. Bring us to him, Silas. I’d like to get on living our last lifetime together.”

“Consider it done, Little Rose.”

I kissed her cheek, and slowly released her hands before returning to Gunnar. What was left of him anyway. The only recognizable part of the thieving prince was the sharp amber of his eyes. Soon enough, that began to fade to the stormy red of the sea folk.

Gunnar’s rounded ears were now sharply pointed. His hair was longer and knotted at the base of his neck, and silver rings were hooped in the lobes of his ears.

Ari slunk into the shadows as Gunnar tied my wrists in a thick rope that looked a great deal like the rigs on their ships.

“Shall we, Wraith?”

I nodded and fell into step behind Gunnar Strom, his new captive.

On the edge of the sea fae camp, we paused. Gunnar took a flacon of ale from off his belt and took a long gulp. Twenty paces away, Ari should’ve been perched, keeping watch. More than most of us, Ari and Saga deserved to have this nightmare end. I was determined to see it done.

“Let’s go,” Gunnar said gruffly.

I kept my head down, tethered arms outstretched, and stumbled behind Gunnar as we crossed the fading seidr line into the tents of the sea fae.

“Oi!” Gunnar shouted to a trio of men who stood around a small fire pit, smoking paper-rolled herbs. “Where’s the king? Look what I snagged. Drunk off his ass and stumbling about. These earth sods heal with the harsh ale.”

Gunnar barked a laugh and yanked on the rope, causing me to fumble on my feet.

The sea fae converged on us, one had a curved blade leveled at Gunnar’s throat. “What House?”

What the hells did that mean?

Gunnar laughed again and swatted the sword away. “Go get the king and the earth fae battle lord. Don’t hesitate.”

Weight added to the air, a fleeing moment, but Gunnar’s mesmer gathered swiftly. Another breath and the three sea fae blinked, their eyes glassy and disoriented. They turned around and guided us toward the center of the camp. Perhaps what unnerved me the most were not the differences between us and the sea fae—but the similarities.

They sat in groups. Friends? Family? Men held horns and tin cups of steaming drinks. Sea fae looked worn and weary much like us.

In truth, they were fighting because they were led here to fight, to avenge a royal. Could they be horribly blamed for the act? Should any of our royals ever be snatched, I had few doubts every damn realm would rise up to save them or avenge them.

We emerged from between two tents.

“King Erik,” said one of the men in front of us.

The lanky boy turned around, a tin mug in his grip. His eyes flashed in surprise at the sight of me, followed promptly by a wash of frustration. I fought the urge to grin. It made me more certain he’d been behind the chaos that knocked Davorin away from me.

Not out of the kindness of his shriveled sea fae heart. If I had to guess, I’d say Erik Bloodsinger was raised to cherish the notion of clearing debts.

I’d let the other boy live, after all.

The king did not want to show he was soft on anything, but he’d been uneasy at the thought of the other boy dying. It was clear in his rage, in his struggle to reach him.

I let the boy live, so the king let me live.

Now, no mistake, his risk was all for naught.

“This be a dreary day for the House of Kings,” the man went on, “but we brought you one of the earth fae.”

“Not just anyone. Look at the sod,” Gunnar murmured, a new, thick accent that matched the fae of the sea. “He be one who keeps nearest the royals.”

“What do we have here?”

Gooseflesh lifted on my arms. I hated the reaction to the bastard, but wretched and spineless as he was, he was still a horror from my boyhood. He was still the man who ripped away the king and queen from me—two royals who’d come to treat me as a member of their household.

This bastard was the one who’d stolen Calista away.

Davorin slicked his hands through his hair, dark eyes locked on me. He lowered his palms and slowly unsheathed a blade. “I asked for your blood. Well done.”

He looked to Gunnar, not considering for a moment he was anything other than sea folk.

“We’re not to be killing him straight off, are we?” Gunnar huffed and looked to the young king.

“Who are you to question?” Davorin’s voice was icy and filled with hate.

“I’m . . . I’m not, it’s just . . .” Gunnar leaned in, lowering his voice. “He was using one of the earthen fan’s strange trinkets. Think he wanted to bring them shadows that draw out their armies again.”

Davorin’s brow arched. Gods, I prayed those rune wards on the battle lord’s flesh only shielded against the blade. I prayed the next words would take and burrow into the bastard’s blood.

Gunnar’s whisper grew rough, demanding. “Just look at the ring on his finger.”

Unbidden, Davorin’s gaze fell to the queen’s ring. Greed and desire burned in his eyes.

Gunnar cleared his throat and went on, directing his words to the sea fae who hardly seemed to notice he’d addressed Davorin. The thieving prince had frightening magic, and I was glad for it.

“This scarred sod seems to be thinking his folk’ll come for him,” Gunnar said to the boy king. “Isn’t that what we want? The earth bender?”

Erik tilted his head. “Aye.”

“We want the realms,” Davorin hissed.

Erik Bloodsinger ignored him and studied Gunnar with a new scrutiny as the prince rambled on.

“So, if he’s dead, what’s to stop the earth bender from sinking us into his pit? If he’s alive, they’ll try to snatch him back, right? We’ll be able to lure them out.”

I held my breath when Gunnar faced the sea fae and battle lord without blinking. Now was the moment where we’d be found out, or our plans moved forward.

“You’ll let him live. You’ll place me as guard over where you keep him.” Gunnar didn’t flinch. He kept his body squared to Davorin. “You’ll keep that desire for the ring on his hand.”

There was a flicker of Gunnar’s eye color. As though the sea fae red was fading. Dammit, Ari would be fatiguing. We needed to move before Davorin noticed.

“Am I understood?” Gunnar finished.

Davorin glimpsed the ring and a twitch came to his mouth.

“Is it your word, sea king, that the prisoner remains breathing as bait?” Davorin asked, arrogance dripping in his tone.

Erik tilted the cup to his lips. “It is. Take him to Harald’s tent. You.” He paused in front of Gunnar. “What house are you from? Bones?”

Gunnar swallowed. “Aye.”

“What is your voice?”

Dammit. We knew so damn little about the sea fae.

Gunnar shifted on his feet, uncertain. “Not skilled enough to say, My King.”

I held my breath. Was it even believable? Did unskilled magic exist in the sea kingdom?

After a suffocating pause, the young king shrugged. “Lack of voice doesn’t seem to have stopped you from scouting well enough.”

“Aye.” Gunnar dipped his chin.

With a wave, Erik turned away, back to his lonely corner of the camp. “You have the honor of guarding him then.”

“Many thanks, My King.”

“We’ll use him as bait at nightfall.”

When Gunnar turned me toward the empty tent from which the fae had taken Harald, I caught the gleam of Davorin’s grin.

He had no intention of honoring the young king’s word.

And that was exactly our hope.

Gunnar shoved me inside the tent with a final, significant glance and stepped outside. It took longer than expected, but soon, muttered voices came from outside the tent. I had my back turned to the flaps, heart racing, when the canvas stretched and another body entered the tent.

“I wondered if you’d be trapped as a little all this time.” Davorin chuckled with a bit of wickedness. “But look at you, the king’s ward is all grown up.”

I turned over my shoulder.

Davorin paused at the edge of Harald’s unmade cot. Blood stained the furs and linens. He’d been killed? No mistake, Davorin had a hand in it. What kept him from killing the boy king? His poisonous blood, perhaps?

“Why do you keep fighting here?” I asked. “You’ve never won. You won’t win. You should’ve lived out your days beneath the sea.”

“Never won?” He chuckled. “Have you lived a happy life, boy? Or have you been locked in a wretched existence to hide from me? The way you all have been fighting to reach this moment, so have I. Now, I am home. My kingdom is restored. Curses are ended. The outcome of our fate rests in our hands. I intend for it to fall in my favor.”

“We hold the gifts of fate.”

He grinned. If Davorin were not so horrid, he would have a comforting face. If he did not have such hatred, he might look kind when he smiled.

He was a tyrant who was ugly and putrid at all angles.

“Gifts of fate.” The battle lord approached me and gripped the ropes on my wrists. “Yes, I know. Thank the gods, these stupid sea fae do not know the things they ought to notice. Like this.”

He yanked the queen’s ring off my finger with such venom it scraped the skin, drawing blood.

“I’ve seen what this can do. Was that the plan, boy? Bring your fated royals through shadows to you?”

My jaw tightened.

Davorin smirked. “I wonder what would happen if I brought them to me.”

He slid the ring on his finger. The runes along the edges glowed in a vibrant flame. Davorin removed his hold on the ropes and studied the ring.

“Many thanks, boy,” he said. “I’ll ready the sea fae. We’ll watch for those shadows and meet them when they arrive.”

“It’s a good plan,” I said. “But it’ll never work.”

Davorin’s steps staggered a bit. His eyes widened. I hoped he sensed the heaviness by now, I hoped he knew something was shifting inside his blood.

“You see,” I went on. “Another thing those sea fae—and apparently you—don’t know, is how to detect a highly concentrated sleeping elixir. One that happens to be on that ring. Shame that your greed is so predictable.”

“No . . .” Davorin took hold of a tent post. “You wore it.”

“True. But you were kind enough to leave so much of your glamour behind to be studied by Elixists all these turns. Seems one of our own knows exactly how to hone his potions for certain magical imprints. Like yours. No one wearing that ring will sleep . . . except you.”

“What did you do?” Davorin fell to one knee.

I lowered with him. “Let your thoughts go, and let those dreams descend.”