Crown of Blood and Ruin: A dark fairy tale romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 3)
Crown of Blood and Ruin: Chapter 2

“Again! This time actually block. That is what we’re doing, is it not? I’m not going to be the one scraping your innards off a battlefield because you fools forget how to lift a damn blade,” Halvar barked at us.

At the head of the grassy field, he gripped two battered short blades, one in each hand. The emblem of his tunic was an axe crossed with a dagger wrapped in thorns. The Ferus seal. He looked every bit the first knight that he was.

Still, playful as the man could be, Halvar was rather frightening with his weapons, and terribly demanding. For good reason, I supposed. And he had a point—no one wanted the innards of our neighbors on the battlefield.

I lifted my seax. The hilt was thick, and the leather binding had come loose, so a bit of sharp metal dug into my palm.

A kiss pressed to my cheek before I struck. Startled, I reeled back only to meet Halvar’s sly grin.

“Of course, you are no fool,” he said. “I exclude you from all my vulgarities.” He looked to Kari, my sparring partner. “And you as well, my beautiful warrior.”

Kari narrowed her eyes. “Halvar.”

He looked to me. “She gets so timid when I whisper my sweet sentiments in public. I don’t understand it.” He turned back to Kari. “I would put my lips upon you in the most indecent places, my love, no matter who saw. You need only let me!”

A few chuckles rippled through the line of sparring partners. Kari’s face turned pink, and her eyes flashed in a warning. No doubt Halvar would pay later, and no doubt he’d enjoy every moment of it.

I grinned and adjusted my grip on the blade. “Step aside and let us spar.”

“So long as we have an understanding. You, my two lovelies, do not take me at my cruel words.”

“Hardly seems fair,” I said. “I am under your tutelage the same as everyone else.”

“Ah.” His voice softened, so only I heard. “But they are not my future queen.”

A rush of heat twisted my stomach. “I’ve yet to be asked by a king to be more than a consort.”

“Pretend it is not fated to happen all you wish, dear Elise.”

I jabbed Halvar’s ribs with my elbow. Others were staring. “Even still, treat me as you treat anyone. I need to learn the blade like a knight.”

“As you say. Blade up. Wider stance.” Halvar swatted my middle with the back of his hand, forcing a breathy grunt from my throat. “Core tight.”

After a final wink at Kari, Halvar returned to the front of the lines and raised one of his swords. When he cut the blade down, we attacked.

Twenty steps later I coughed when Kari tossed me onto my back once again.

Dust fluttered over my cheeks, sticking to the sweat on my skin. She leaned over her knees, catching her breath, then reached her hand out to help me up.

“All right, Elise?” Kari wiped her light hair out of her eyes. Timoran like me, but also a former raven. I found some kinship with her from our past lives, but also because Kari had captivated the heart of a fae the same as me. Halvar never stuttered, never even blinked over her life in Timoran. I wished others would do the same.

“I’m fine.” I staggered to my feet, scanning the others still fighting with a touch of envy. My friend, Siv, struck with such fluid strength as she sparred with two opponents, and already had one woman in a headlock.

“You’ve improved,” Kari said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. Shy as she was about Halvar’s public declarations, she kept him in her sights as he stalked the lines, correcting stances and grips.

“I’ve improved, yet still end up on the ground. At this rate, I might as well serve as the bait while you all sack Ravenspire.”

Kari snickered and shook her head. “Like Hal said, as consort, you will likely have no need to lift a blade.”

She said it to brighten my spirits, but it didn’t. I needed to know how to fight. I planned to stand at Valen’s side until he won back the throne that was rightfully his. No part of me intended to be an ornament who watched from a padded seat above the battlefield.

“All right,” Halvar shouted when the last pair called a draw. “Be gone with you all. Rest, eat, drink, bed each other, I care little. All but you, my lovely raven.”

He pointed at Kari, dark eyes smoldering in desire. She pretended to ignore him, but the moment his lips whispered against her ear, her irises flashed with similar need.

Siv sheathed her daggers, then hurried to my side, linking her arm with mine. “They return tonight.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Yes. I hope before nightfall. Calder places too many ravens near the gates of Ruskig after dark.”

Siv nodded, a twitch in the corner of her mouth. “Do you ever stop to think of how much has changed? I picture Mattis at the Night Prince’s side, fighting, at last, for Etta. It still astounds me. And you—once a Kvinna, now consort to the King of Etta.”

“I cannot think on it too long or my head hurts,” I said with a laugh. I cared little whether Valen called me consort or queen, so long as he called me his. When he had posed as Legion Grey, I did not expect to love him. Certainly not him as a king of fury.

My body trembled the more I thought of him. Too long he’d been away, gathering more of his people from slavers and traders. His absence was felt by everyone, but I liked to think I felt it the most.

Siv left me once we reached the shanty she shared with Mattis.

Moments alone gave me time to reflect. Like Siv said, a great many things had happened in less than a turn. But more was to come before we could claim victory. The heaviest weight on my heart was Sol Ferus.

Valen rarely spoke of his brother. But I could see the pain behind his eyes. Sol was used for the benefit of Ravenspire, and more than anything I wanted to rescue him. For Valen, for Sol, for Tor.

To know he lived but was tortured and manipulated daily was almost too much for his consort to bear.

Tor spoke little to others, but to me he shared some burdens. Perhaps it was because I also knew the risks of being a Ferus consort.

Perhaps it was because we were friends.

Sol needed to go free. I felt it in my bones he would be needed to restore Etta as much as Valen. With the Sun Prince’s dark fury against us, he was also the greatest obstacle.

Some called for his death, calling it mercy. A way to free him from his torture. But I’d already promised myself to do anything within my power to bring Sol here alive. Valen had lost so many.

He’d already mourned his brother before; he would not do it again.

I kicked at some brambles on the path to the royal longhouse. Ruskig was fading into winter, but still the buds of moonvane, nettles, and rowan were vibrant against the dark mossy trees. Shanties kept popping up, and now the Night Folk refuge looked like a small town. In the center was a worship chantry, a square for announcements, and a small marketplace. We didn’t use shim coin in Ruskig, but trade was growing with our numbers.

A narrow canyon path led to a private beach where we caught salmon and herring. Calder blocked most trade routes, hoping to starve us out, no doubt. The thing about earth fury, though, was there was often enough magic to grow plumper berries, heartier vegetables, and it helped when Stieg and Casper used their air and water fury to pull the tides over our fishing nets.

For now, we had enough to fill our bellies.

Over the treetops, the sun faded. Lanterns speckled windows of shanties, and by the time I reached the longhouse, I didn’t notice the huddle of men guarding the door.

I groaned. Klok was an elder of Ruskig, and kind enough. But the others were new or from Crispin’s refugees. I’d been among the party to bring the refugees from the damp sea caves into Ruskig.

Crispin, their leader, didn’t give me much thought. He’d wrinkle his nose at the sight of me sometimes, but never said a word. I wish I could say the same for some of his men.

The more they prattled on about Timorans, the more newcomers looked at me with the same reservation, the same disdain.

At the door of the longhouse, Klok bid the men farewell. He noticed me and tipped his head in a greeting. I returned his smile, wishing he’d stay until I was inside. With Valen gone, some of the folk were a bit bolder in their words toward me.

Of course, I’d never mentioned it to the king. Valen had enough to fret over than a few harsh words aimed at me.

Holding my breath, I did my best to duck my head and slip through the doorway without drawing any notice. But Fate was fickle, and certainly held no love for me.

A thick, muscled arm shot out in front of me, blocking my way. “Where are you going, de hӓn?”

“Stave.” I lifted my chin. “Let me pass.”

“Into my king’s chambers? A Timoran? You must think me mad.” Stave was one of Crispin’s men. He stood two heads taller than me. His beard was rough and braided. A tapered point to his ears gave away his proclivity to magic. Basic earth fury, but he knew how to handle a blade. Brutally so.

I didn’t doubt his loyalty to Valen. But I didn’t doubt his hatred of all things Timoran either.

“I grow weary of this,” I said, voice harsh. “You would not dare speak this way to his consort if the king were here. Now move aside.”

“I’m tasked with protecting the king,” Stave whispered. “And I plan to, Timoran.

“Stave?” Relief filled my chest. From around the corner, Casper appeared, a plate of nuts and berries in his hands. The water fae had severe points to his ears, and his eyes reminded me of a stormy sea rather than a starlit night. Most believed him to be part nyk, a type of sea fae, not only Night Folk. He popped two nuts onto his tongue, eyes flicking between us. “What’s going on?”

The entire Guild of Shade, with the addition of Ari, Kari, Brant, Siv, and Mattis, served Valen as his inner council.

As a show of respect for Casper’s position, Stave dipped his chin and pulled back his arm from my path. “Nothing. Simply wishing de hӓn Elise a good night.”

Casper narrowed his eyes. “Lady Elise, is what I think you meant.”

Stave’s face twitched, but he nodded. “Of course.”

Casper pushed the thick door open. “Elise, allow me.”

“Thank you, Casper.” I didn’t look at Stave as I passed, but when Casper closed the door shut at my back, I slumped against the wall.

The reluctance to accept me was getting worse. As Timorans, Kari and Brant dealt with their own prejudice, but since Brant held strange foreign magic in his blood, the fae of Etta seemed to accept the former ravens more readily.

Stave did not touch me, but this was the first time anyone had been so bold as to say they did not want me near Valen.

I shook away the disquiet and stripped free of my sweaty tunic.

The royal longhouse was large enough to hold an impressive gathering. A stone inglenook heated the hall. The long table was always ready with ewers of ale and bread. But the back room is where I spent most of my time. It was private. A place where Valen could simply be him, and I could simply be me.

At the table, I traced my fingers across the opened parchment, smiling. I missed Junius since she’d returned to the Eastern Kingdom, but we’d sent missives to each other over the months. To know she’d returned to her Alver folk and her husband brought a swell of warmth to my chest.

Still, it would be nice to have her talent of tasting lies with us now. Stave came to mind. Would he betray Valen? No. Not in war. Not in the rebirth of Etta.

But killing his consort to make room for another? I had no doubt if one were to give the man a knife, he’d ask where I wanted the first blow.

This missive, though, stilled my heart like a dead weight in my chest when I first read it.

. . . The Storyteller is returned to the west. I don’t understand the child’s joy at returning. The place, Raven Row, is more a slum than Skìtkast, and when you come to see us someday, you will understand why I am repulsed.

Elise, I’ve thought a great deal about what you last wrote, about the child’s prediction. I didn’t give it much thought, until I returned to my folk. Frankly, I’m embarrassed I did not think of him sooner.

I know of an Alver who fits what Calista described. A breaker of night and fear. Elise lives here in the east. We call him, the Nightrender . . .

To know someone, one of these Alvers had magic like Calista predicted in her trance before she left our shores was unnerving. I shook my head. Truth be told, I didn’t know what to think about this Nightrender.

Your battle ends when his begins.

Calista said the words before she left Ruskig. I didn’t know if it meant we needed this Alver, but to know he existed was . . . confusing.

What battle would he face? How would ours end?

I folded the parchment again, desperate to stop thinking of blood, war, and battles. For a moment, I wanted to slip into a calm. Behind the fur draped over our bed chamber, I filled the wooden tub with fire heated water. Rose oils and moonvane petals added a bit of healing for the nicks and scrapes from sparring.

As I soaked, laughter nearby sent chills dancing up my arms. Stave kept close. I was certain he and his companions would drink well into the night simply to keep me awake. Then, the moment Valen returned they would bow and show respect as if they kissed my feet.

Perhaps I should say something about his blatant disrespect.

No. If I was to stand at Valen’s side, then I needed to learn how to manage disruptions like petty resentment for being Timoran on my own.

I drew strength from thoughts of Lilianna Ferus, Valen’s mother. Her journals hinted at a bit of upset when she was chosen to take vows with the Night Folk king. As a Timoran, Lilianna found her place in Etta. She was loved and wise.

Did Stave and those like him realize their king was half Timoran?

A grin spread over my lips, and I sank into the water.

I must’ve dozed off a bit for I didn’t hear the door creak open at the front. I didn’t hear the scrape of boots over the floorboards. My heart leapt to my throat when hands dipped beneath the surface of the water, curling around my legs.

At the rumble of his laugh against my skin, I leaned back, wholly relaxed.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you,” Valen whispered against the slope of my shoulder. He left soft kisses across my skin, up my neck, to the curve of my ear. The rough calluses of his hand caressed my middle under the water as his other palm pushed aside my damp hair.

“You’re back.” I sighed, cupping one hand behind his head. “Please, frighten all you like if you keep doing this.”

I leveraged onto my knees, and my chest squeezed at the sight of him. His midnight hair was tied off his face. Dark eyes gleamed with a bit of green and gold up close. My fingertips left damp tracks down the edge of his jaw. I touched the tips of his ears, his lips, simply memorizing him again and again.

Valen curled his arms around my naked body, pulling me against his chest. He drew his lips close to mine, pausing just close enough to cause a bit of madness. “I missed you.”

“I hardly noticed your absence.”

He narrowed his eyes and let out a little growl. I shrieked and laughed when Valen scooped beneath my thighs, urging my legs around his waist, as water dripped over the floor. In his arms I was safe, even after he dropped me onto our bed.

With a dark heat in his eyes, the Night Prince prowled over the furs, his body making a cage over mine. He pressed a kiss to the top of each breast, then grinned. “If I am so forgettable, allow me to remedy this, my love.”

I trapped his face between my palms, each breath deepening, each touch a flame. “It might take a great deal of time, My King. Possibly all night.”

He smiled, melting my heart to his all over again, then claimed my mouth. Deep, needy. Perfect.