Curse of Shadows and Thorns: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 1)
Curse of Shadows and Thorns: Chapter 21

Sol is rather jealous of the new babe and fled to his father’s horses this morning, a pack across his little shoulders, demanding the hunters take him on the Wild Hunt. Arvad, one always amused with his young ones, treated the boy with dignity. His compromise: should Sol mount his own horse, hold his own bow, then he’d be welcome on the days’ long hunt.

Gods bless the first prince, he mightily tried. Alas, when the boy failed, the king placed his hands atop his shoulders and vowed he was needed here. For how else was the princess and second prince to learn how to behave and misbehave as children ought without the guidance of their brother? My king assured him it was never too early to begin mischief. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

A new light has lived in the boy’s eyes since the hunting party took leave, and he has at last visited the new Night Prince. Even touched the points of young Valen’s ears and asked how his father’s Night Folk blood got into his brother.

Ah, the hours spent telling tales on the fury in Arvad’s blood, and how Night Folk of the trees helped bless us with his new brother, are some I shall cherish. The babe will have strong fury, no doubt, but sweet Sol will make a wonderous king.

I closed Queen Lilianna’s journal and hugged the tattered pages to my heart. She seemed so . . . kind. An enemy queen, and I desperately wanted to know her. Desperately wished she had not been killed so viciously. A mother who loved her children and her king. As Legion promised, the Ettan royalty vowed for a great deal more than advantage.

I desired the same. I would not receive it.

Rolling onto my side in my bed, I tucked the journal beneath my pillow. After the tea, I’d asked to be alone and hoped Mavie and Siv were finding some sort of enjoyment at the revelry still going on in the courtyards. I could not shake the witch girl’s words. Foolish and ridiculous as they were, they burrowed deep in my heart and mind and unnerved every last stitch keeping me together.

A frenzied screech rang down the corridor of the longhouse. I bolted off my bed. A clatter rang out, and I snatched my robe, slinging it around my shoulders, then hurried into the corridor. Some of our serfs and patrols sped past my door, barking commands as they darted outside.

Mavie and Siv both poked their heads out of their chamber.

“What’s happened?” I asked.

Siv shook her head. “We don’t know.”

I turned back into my room, snatched up the knife Legion had given me, and returned to the corridor. Siv had her dagger, and Mavie held a wooden rod—I didn’t question where she’d found it, simply followed the rush of frantic people outside.

Across the lawns Ravenspire guards stood in steady rows, blocking all entrances of the gates, all houses, all towers. My father hunched over a cane, a fur robe around his bony shoulders. A scowl deepened the shadows on his face. My mother stood at his side, hand over her mouth.

Something had gone terribly wrong for the guards to descend upon us like this. I rushed to my father.

“What’s happened?” I asked, breathless.

My father had been muttering something to my mother and paused. He glanced over my shoulder as Runa slowly sauntered up the hillside, as though nothing chaotic were happening all around us.

“Whatever has happened?” she sang.

I gritted my teeth. My sister cared for nothing but herself and I wanted to hit something.

“An attempt was made on the king. An assassination,” rasped my father.

I covered my mouth. Terrible as Zyben was, to be attacked so close to Ravenspire was unheard of. When the king traveled, then he had cause for worry.

“Bleeding Agitators,” my father went on. “They’re a plague.”

“Was anyone harmed?” I asked.

I wasn’t thinking of the king.

“No,” he said. “No, I heard it was a poor shot. The guards are still scouring the wood for the assassin.”

If Agitators were attacking again, then they must have enough of a following not to fear retaliation as much. Two royal attacks in less than two weeks. My stomach clenched. They’d see us dead or die trying themselves.

“Those bastards will be executed tomorrow. No more delay,” Father went on. “The king made vows that their screams would be heard throughout all the kingdoms of the Fate’s Ocean. Hurry, now. No one is to be out of doors tonight.”

My family turned toward the longhouse. Runa seemed perturbed her sleep had been interrupted at all, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of being in my room. Burdensome thoughts battered my skull. Questions about why the Agitators were striking now. How they’d come so close to Castle Ravenspire. What they wanted. It made no sense to me. They’d never gone for the king, truth be told; I’d been the first royal they’d attacked to my knowledge.

Agitators stirred contention, true. Ravenspire hated them because of it, but most attacks had been thieving—food carts, textiles—the sort of thieving done when folk couldn’t feed themselves. They had never stooped to such violence.

True they were zealots who worshiped a dead prince. The fae boy prince Lilianna loved so much, but the Ferus royals were dead and gone. It was the only thing I once feared about Agitators. If they worshipped a ghost, could they be reasoned with?

Now I feared them because they had altered course to murder and assassination.

I doubted a bloody, merciless execution would solve anything. More likely, it would stir Agitator hearts to anger even more.

“Come,” Mavie said. “We should get inside.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and tied my knife to my waist with my dressing robe belt. “I need air.”

“Elise,” Siv warned. “We shouldn’t—”

“I didn’t say we,” I went on. “Please. I can’t be in that room.”

Siv narrowed her eyes. “Then, we’re coming with you.”

I shook my head. “You’ll be noticed missing more than me. You know our serfs enjoy ratting others out. Give me this. I have but a few nights alone remaining before I’m promised to another.”

Siv opened her mouth to protest, but Mavie stopped her with a gesture. “There is an old schoolhouse from the Ferus era. It’s away from the walls, so we won’t worry about anyone slipping by the guards, but it’s covered in a bower, so you’ll have privacy. By the north tower.”

I grinned. “I won’t be long. You have my word.”

Siv pouted as Mavie dragged her toward the longhouse, but she didn’t fight me. They knew how afraid I was to take vows. They knew I believed to my core it would be the death of my freedom. Perhaps I overexaggerated, but I could not help the way I felt.

Enough of a crowd remained that I traveled the length of the courtyard without drawing attention from the guards. They demanded folk return to their dwellings, demanded patrols at every door. I ducked into the trimmed gardens of rowan and wolfsbane and ferns.

Light on my feet, another twenty paces, I reached the bower covering the schoolhouse and slipped inside.

A heavy scent of dust and old parchment burned my nose, but I assumed this place was rarely used. A podium with tallow candles was at the head of the rounded room. A table with nothing but a thick book and a copper plate engraved with the symbol of the gods’ tree. A few pews made of black oak lined the center, and the lancet windows were painted in scenes from folklore. Night Folk blessing the trees. Sea snakes and monsters churning the tides. Fury drawing shadows, breaking the soil, healing. So many things I’d not heard fury accomplish. Then again, I didn’t know all there was on fury.

Different lands, different powers.

Little by little the night quieted. An occasional footstep would go by, a few murmured voices, but no one bothered my solitude. I remained in the frontmost bench, thinking of what the veiled girl told me, how she spoke of change, how I longed for it, and how I’d lost faith in it.

I didn’t know the tears were there until a drop splashed on my hand.

Tomorrow I’d watch brutality. I should be glad for it, but my stomach burned as I imagined the way Timorans would cheer, how they’d rage as Ettan Agitators were tortured and flayed.

“Elise.”

I startled and sucked in a sharp gasp. The door closed, and Legion locked it before he lifted his eyes to me once more.

I wiped at my face, embarrassed. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

“I bribed Mavie to give up where you’d gone,” he said with a grin. “She has a true love for figs.”

I laughed softly and turned around again. My heart pounded in time with his steps over the floor; a trill shivered down my spine when he sat beside me on the bench. He’d replaced his longbow with two knives, and his skin looked recently scrubbed.

He said nothing.

As if he sensed I needed quiet, Legion sat beside me, studying the glass in the windows.

I wasn’t certain how long we sat in silence, but it sounded foreign when I spoke. “I’m grateful you were unharmed during the hunt. Did you see anything? The attempt on the king?”

Legion shook his head and leaned his elbows over his knees. “No. I wasn’t close at the time, but I’m not convinced it was an Agitator.”

“Why?”

He let out a sigh. “Too perfect a shot. The arrow ended in a small notch on a tree, perfectly level, deep in the trunk. A clearly aimed shot. As if intending to miss. An Agitator bold enough to kill the king wouldn’t try to miss. They might not succeed, but they’d shoot to kill.”

“Then who?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t like not knowing.”

I smiled softly and rested my hand on his forearm. Legion studied my touch before he covered my hand with his own. Another breath and he brought my palm to his lips, a signature mark from him I was coming to love.

“I feared for you,” he said. The admission was soft, as though he considered not speaking at all. “When you weren’t in your chamber. It took me from behind, this fear deep in my chest, and for a moment I could not think straight. I would’ve torn the longhouse to pieces had Mavie not seen me.”

His words lifted me from the sorrow of my thoughts, eased my burdens, set fire to my heart. A few nights. Freedom for a few nights. I had no wish to waste them, no desire to spend them parted from Legion. Swallowing the last of my nerves, I scooted against him. My palm stroked the far side of his face, drawing him to look at me. I was lost in the silky black of his eyes. The woodsy hint on his tanned skin.

“What brings your tears, Elise?”

My chin quivered. I turned away, embarrassed, but Legion used his fingers to guide my face back to him.

“Everything,” I admitted. “Tomorrow traitors to my king will die, and I cry for them. I’m the weakest kind of Timoran. I hate that I feel this torment inside, how I love my people and hate them all at once. How I love Ettans but stand above them. How I’m fascinated by fae but fear them. The weight of it is crushing, and tomorrow I will be expected to sneer, to shout, to hate.

“The king will execute them not only in his name, but mine. What if he asks me to speak? How can I look condemned men in the eyes, who were not to blame for what happened to me, who fight for their land that was stolen from them? How do I look at them and feel nothing?” I pressed a hand to my chest, killing a sob before it burst out.

“You steal my words,” he said, eyes on the ground. “Timoran is a land that has not been terribly kind to me for most of my life. I find myself disenchanted by the whole of society most days, but these weeks with you have stirred something within me and I hardly know how to make sense of it. Your love of this land and its people—it’s original people—I don’t know why I care, but you’ve made it so. There are no words for you.”

“You make me too grand a thing.”

“Not possible.”

“I sound cowardly. Hiding in here, crying. When I should either use my voice, or not, then stand by my choice without faltering this way.”

Legion scoffed and straightened. “True. You could be bold and sure on every choice, but then I would fear you might not be human.”

I laughed, not a pretty sound, more a gurgle in my throat mingled with tears.

Legion chuckled and went on. “I was told once, each decision we wrestle in our minds, each consequence we weigh, is how we gain faith in our final choices. We take time to decide who we are and when we choose, as you said, we stand by those choices fiercely.”

“Who told you that? I like it.”

A furrow gathered over his brow. “Actually, now that I think of it, I don’t remember.”

I sighed and pointed my eyes at the domed beams above us. “In truth, I am brought to tears for more than executions and Agitators and cruel kings. Call me a fool, for I knew it would happen, but being matched leaves me feeling like my choices, good or bad, will no longer be my own.”

“So, you do know the king has ordered me to select a match,” he said, voice hoarse.

“Yes. He told me before the hunt.”

“It was not supposed to come so quickly. How am I to do it?”

The burden was heavy in his voice. A touch of sympathy reached out for Legion, though it would not make his lot easier if I could not hold my tears. I forced a wry smile. “Well, how did you plan to do it when you first came?”

“The answer to that isn’t simple anymore. Nothing is like it was when I first came.”

“Oh,” I said, grinning through the heat in my cheeks. “Has so much changed?”

He returned my smile, then curled his hand around the back of my neck. I wasn’t fooling him by playing coy. Legion leaned his face closer. Our brows touched. He paused and ran his fingers through my hair. “I ask how I am to give you to some fool because I do not know how. How am I to accomplish anything I set out to do here when my heart burns to have you for myself?”

I started to speak; there weren’t words, but the moment demanded a reply.

He pressed a finger to my mouth, silencing any more attempts. His eyes broke me, put me at his mercy. There was enough time to pull away, enough time to stop this, and enough to admit I’d never stop this even if I should.

Legion kissed me.

He claimed my lips with a passionate tug on the back of my head, drawing me in, so I never wished to be set free.

I gasped and he took it for his own with the sly glide of his mouth on mine. Legion canted his head, parted my lips; teeth and tongues collided as desire grew. He tasted like rain and honey.

My arms curled around his neck, needing him closer. Legion’s hands went to my waist, his body pressed against mine. I tilted back, fingers digging into his shoulders, and pulled him over me.

Echoes of his knives on the wood, of our greedy breaths filled the old schoolhouse. His weapon belt dug into me, and when I winced, he made quick work to be rid of it.

I thanked him through touch. Legion groaned into my mouth when my hands slipped beneath his tunic to his skin, tracing the lines and sinews of his chest. I didn’t know if there was a delicate way to remove my night robe, certainly I didn’t find it as I tangled my arms in linen, trying to keep him as close as I could.

Legion hovered above me, eyes dark with desire. His fingers ran the length of my neck to my chemise and tugged it off my shoulder.

Exposed in such a way, I expected to feel a bit of embarrassment, but Legion’s eyes gleamed in a greedy want.

I arched into him.

He pressed a kiss at the swell of one breast; his tongue dragged across the peak, heating my skin. “This is dangerous.”

“Yes,” I said. Forbidden to touch another during the bidding, not to mention how a negotiator touching his charge would set the town aflame in scandal should anyone discover the truth.

None of it mattered.

Another graceful motion and the tunic was gone over his head. I marveled at his strength, the scars on his skin from street fights, I assumed. A pretty, black stone hung from a chain around his neck, like a bit of the night sky he carried with him always.

I kissed the place over his heart. He dragged his callused fingertips up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, slipping between my legs to my throbbing center once again.

I drew in a sharp breath, and he kissed me until the bright shock of sensation faded into pleasure.

The roughness raised my skin, reaching for more. His kiss was a flame, his clever fingers a fog. Like spinning until the mind couldn’t focus, like power you couldn’t control, the kind that robbed you of wits.

His gaze met mine, unblinking, watching me as I melted beneath his touch, as I bit my lip to keep from making humiliating sounds and failed. His fingers thrust and flicked and tormented.

Words burned up in sensation.

Our hands explored each other, but there was still a wall between us. He could not have me fully. I did not know how I knew it, perhaps the look in his eyes, the desire he couldn’t truly take, but there was a hideous line I knew he would not cross.

Still, I planned to lavish his body as long as I could. With trembling fingers, I unclasped the buckle of his belt and slipped one palm below the waistline of his trousers. I gripped the warmth of his length in my hands and stroked. He gasped. A furrow gathered between his brows as my touch drew him to a delightful madness much the same as he’d done to me.

His face grew flushed. I lost my ability to speak as he brought me to the precipice and watched me fall over the ledge, his eyes black with sensual greed.

He pressed another needy kiss to my neck. “Gods, Elise. This . . . you mean everything.”

Legion’s teeth scraped down my neck, my ear. He kissed me until I could think no more, until all I could do was feel.

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