Crown of Blood and Ruin: A dark fairy tale romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 3)
Crown of Blood and Ruin: Chapter 25

The sound of war rang through the shanties of Ruskig.

To some this meant pain, death, fear. To me, I embraced the whole of it. I stepped with more confidence, more desire to move forward than I ever imagined. In the trees, just beyond our walls of protection, stone on steel scraped in the dark as men and women sharpened their blades. The clatter of thick wood knocked together as Casper, Stieg, and Ari shifted the stacks of shields, handing them out to the foot warriors.

Even the scents in the air were different.

Instead of the fresh spice of the forest, woodsmoke floated from small personal offerings to the gods. A breath of leather, the sharp tang of heavily painted kohl. Sweat and a touch of fear masked the new rain on the leaves and soil.

From our vantage point, the slope gave up the distant lights of Castle Ravenspire.

My grip tightened on the handle of one of Valen’s battle axes. Soon, I’d return these to his hands. It was the only plan that kept me fueled with the adrenaline needed to see this through. I was armed heavily and ready to face the path of fate. Both daggers, Ice and Ash, from our vows were sheathed across the small of my back. His battle axes on my waist, and a seax on my left hip.

At my back, Halvar, Brant, and Kari directed the warriors into their positions. Archers, foot warriors, those who’d approach by river, blocking the backside of Ravenspire. Niklas talked to one of his Falkyns, a tall man with a reddish tint to his golden hair. The Falkyn clasped Niklas’s forearm, nodded, and turned to the rest of the guild.

The Alvers would fight with us. They’d use their strange magic, and I didn’t know if their desire came from a love of battle, or loyalty to their guild leads.

“We fight the same fight.” His low, dark voice caused me to jolt.

The Nightrender appeared at my side. His eyes were lined in kohl, with red and black streaks down his face. The hood he hid beneath was pulled over his head, and a few mists of shadows followed him like a dark, diaphanous cloak.

“Your pardon?”

He gestured to the Alver guilds preparing their weapons. “You looked quizzical. I assumed you were once again trying to figure why we are here, risking our necks for folk we don’t know. For a fight that is not on our land.”

“Perceptive, Nightrender. What do you mean we fight the same fight?”

He propped one foot onto a fallen log and leaned onto his elbows over his knee, staring into the night. “What this comes down to is stupid folk fearing the magic of this land and trying to muzzle it. Or, in your kingdom’s case, steal it to keep the throne. It is the same at home.”

“With your power to destroy bodies, I wonder how Alver folk have not taken control in your kingdom.”

He scoffed. “With your power to crumble mountains, raise tides, and command the ground we stand upon, I wonder how Night Folk have not taken back the throne long before now.”

Point made. “You have leaders who persecute those with magic?”

The Nightrender dropped his gaze to his fingernails, though I doubted he was truly interested in them. I’d learned that much about the man—he did not like to discuss his homeland, unless he thought it necessary.

“At home mesmer—magic—is turned into a healthy, glittering trade. But don’t be fooled—there are Alvers in places of power. In plain sight, they trade, manipulate, and torture their own folk. Mesmer is studied like your fury, but it is also revered in a twisted sort of entertainment to make those who own it wealthy and give them power to search for a way to harness the gifts of the Fates.”

I furrowed my brow. “Is that what you believe? That the Norns of fate give the powers of our world?”

“I don’t take stock in mystical beings who ignore the cries of their people.” His eyes flicked to me. “But if I did, it makes a bit of sense. For centuries folk have studied, tortured, exploited magic to steal a chance at controlling fate for themselves, and it will not end.”

“We can end it. Here. Today.”

He scoffed and looked back into the night. “Perhaps in your world. I hope the fae rise here, that your kingdom’s magic reigns. I have few hopes it’ll happen in the East.”

“What is your battle there? What do you fight against?”

When your battle ends his begins.

I had few doubts the Nightrender didn’t believe Calista’s prophecy. Then again, there were moments when his gaze went distant, and he looked as if he thought of something he wouldn’t say out loud. As if he knew more about why he was tangled into this fight than he let on. His eyes pierced me in place when he looked at me again. “The Masque av Aska.”

“The . . . what?”

“Have you ever heard the tale of the four queens?”

My stomach flipped. Hadn’t Lilianna written something about four queens to her mysterious friend? “No,” I admitted. “I don’t know what that is.”

“A folk tale,” he said. “Four queens who would one day restore the balance to all the fates’ gifts: choice, devotion, honor, and cunning.”

“Those are fates’ gifts?”

“The lore makes the vicious Norns sound gentle, doesn’t it?” He smirked. “According to the tale, these queens are the rightful gods’-chosen, you could say. So, in the east, Alvers are made into performers at a grand masquerade each turn to celebrate the legend. It is said each gift bears a relic or a sign that will prove the true queen has risen. Perhaps something simple as the bloom of a dead land.”

I widened my eyes as he pointed out a few moonvane blossoms. I had not noticed, but they pointed their silvery petals at . . . me.

The Nightrender clicked his tongue and went on. “Our wealthy have created a contest of it, where women can stand for a simple task and if they succeed, well then, they must be the queen of legend.”

“I would assume no one has won.”

“You’d be correct.” He shifted, cracking the knuckles of his fingers once. This unsettled him, and I wanted to understand why. The Nightrender had a great many secrets, but this discussion seemed to bring him the most unease since he arrived.

“If no one wins, why does this masquerade continue?” I asked.

“Because it is a grand fete. A beautiful nightmare. Over the turns it was believed those with strong, unique mesmer could be the one to win the crown someday. So, Alvers are taken, controlled, put as puppets for a wealthy celebration. At first glance they appear revered, enjoyed, but the Alvers taken by the masque are turned into loyal dogs who will kill for their masters.

“Our kingdom is not a kingdom. Not really. We have four regions, all led by different amounts of greed. Like here, it is the throne they fight for. But not in the same way. They fight to keep it empty. Those old folk tales and prophecies have the powerful fearing what might happen if one of our unique Alvers took the throne. What is the best way to ensure that doesn’t happen?”

“Kill them?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “One way, perhaps. But back home, they’ve discovered it is quite lucrative to use those strange Alvers to line their own purses.”

“You could rise the way we are. Take away their trade.”

“Our land is not like it is here where the lines between Night Folk and those in power are clearly drawn. This is a battle between magic and mortal, yes? Where I come from, those with magic fight against those with magic. Loyal dogs who kill for their masters, remember? If an Alver wants to live even half a life, it is better to stick to the underbelly with thieves like us.”

“So, is that why you’re fighting here?”

A curl twisted over his lips. “We cannot win in our land, but perhaps we can help free some of the Fates’ magic for your people. Perhaps some can live in the peace we will never know. And,” he paused, “as Junius keeps saying, it’ll be of use to be allies with a king and queen.”

The moment was calm enough I almost smiled, almost dared venture back into what he knew of Herja’s lover, but we were interrupted by a throat clearing.

“Queen Elise.” Stave stood in front of us, dressed like a warrior from head to toe. “We’re beginning. The Alvers are preparing to leave.”

I nodded. Stave could not leave fast enough.

“He fears you,” the Nightrender whispered.

“Good,” was all I said as I tightened the straps of my belt.

“More than others.” The shadows thickened over his eyes. “Fears death from you.”

“He was once only loyal to my husband, not me.”

The Nightrender narrowed his eyes. “Want me to make his fear reality? It would be over quickly.”

I snorted a laugh. “No. I made my point to Stave, and doubt he’ll be so foolish as to be disloyal to his queen now.” I glanced at him as we walked toward the gathering in the center. “You truly can kill folk based on fear?”

“I can do many things besides kill.” The shadows surrounding him thickened. Darkness so powerful I could taste it. Then they recoiled. “Illusions—the one gift that seems to link all those with magic across the kingdoms.”

“I always thought it was a fae gift.”

“I’d guess folk in the South, the West, everywhere have some illusion in their magic. Since my power is found in the rush of fear, I can use it. For example, folk here fear the dark, so the shadows come through illusion. I’ve tumbled buildings, created monstrous sights. Death is always a fear, and it is the simplest to use.”

“Then I am glad you fight beside us, Nightrender.”

He dipped his chin, and by the time we joined the others in the clearing, any hint of gold in his eyes was once more swallowed by night.

Junius and Niklas finished tying pouches to their belts. No doubt each leather purse was filled with some sort of Niklas’s potions. He’d assured me time and again his magic was impressive, and he was more than a poisoner. I prayed he’d prove himself right soon enough.

Ellis, Ash, and Hanna had returned hours before. The two boys kept repeating what they’d told Valen to Niklas, almost like the Falkyn asked for the image again and again to better guide him to my husband.

My heart cinched deep in my chest. Children, at times, didn’t understand subtlety, and at Ellis’s graphic report on the state of the Night Prince, I’d retched when no one was around me.

Then came the report of his feat with moonvane.

The land chose Valen Ferus. It answered him even bound and bleeding. I had to believe it would stand with us now.

“Ready?” I looked to Junius. She was dressed in dark robes, but underneath she wore a simple woolen dress.

Junius took my hand and squeezed. “We’re ready. Watch for our signals, Elise.”

I nodded and looked around at the faces of our warriors. “Our friends go to free our king. We will be there to greet him, blades ready to fight for him and for our people.”

Swords slammed against shields. I blinked through the sting of tears and found those who held my heart, as if it might be the last glimpse. Mattis adjusted Siv’s belt, then kissed her palm. Kari held the sides of Halvar’s face as he whispered something that drew out her smile. Stieg, Casper, and Brant burned a few runes to the gods.

Ari stood beside Tor as they finished securing their blades. He winked at me but didn’t smile.

I went to Herja’s side. The princess of Etta was formidable. She’d donned her slender figure in black, braided her hair off her face, and held more throwing knives than anyone.

My heart cracked as she crouched in front of Laila. The girl’s eyes were wet with fat tears as her mother brushed her hands over her childish cheeks, kissing away her fears.

The Nightrender looked at the girl, then to the young ones beside her. “Ash, Hanna. You look after the littles of this land, yes?”

“We can fight,” Ash said with a stiff pout. Hanna nodded mutely.

The Nightrender looked ready to smile but fought against it. “Who says you will not fight? What do I always tell you?”

Ash kicked at a few pebbles, flicking his fingers over and over. “Be ready for anything.”

“And it’s true. Be ready. You have the weight of these folk on your shoulders to look after their young ones. Will you let them down?”

To me it was a great deal of responsibility to lay at the feet of a child, but Ash puffed out his bony chest and twirled a blacksteel knife in his slender fingers. “I won’t.”

Ellis, Laila, and the other children of Ruskig would be left to the care of Elder Klok, Ash, Hanna, and anyone else unable to lift a heavy blade. They would keep behind the walls, and if the signal came, they’d abandon the North Kingdom in the ships left at the shore.

By the gods, I hoped the signal would never come. If they left by boat, it would mean one thing—we failed.

Herja left a final kiss on Laila’s brow before she sauntered into the trees with the other children and faded into the night. I dropped a hand to her arm. She met my eyes and gave me a curt nod. “We take back our king tonight.”

“We take back our kingdom.”

The Nightrender came to my side again. “Your units have gone to the rivers, the archers are making their way to the peaks, and Junius, Tova, and Niklas are leaving now.”

“This is it,” I whispered. My insides hardened.

“Ready, Queen?”

I looked to the Nightrender. Such a simple question with a dozen answers. I grinned with venom. “I was ready long ago.”

I took hold of my blade, ready to step into position with the rest of the foot warriors.

We’d storm the grounds of Ravenspire. We’d take the most blood, see the most death. I’d meet Valen there. A battle between our different people would reunite my heart with his.

Fate led me here, and now it was time to face whatever wicked plans she had in store.