Crown of Blood and Ruin: A dark fairy tale romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 3)
Crown of Blood and Ruin: Chapter 30

Blood was calling.

During the raids our folk never made it to a battlefield as this. Betrayal upended Old Etta before we had the chance to stand together, to unleash our fury as we’d once planned. Eli overtook our courts in the trickiest of ways. Using our own people against us. An innocent ride to the forest ended in my brother, my father, Tor, Halvar, and me captured and tossed into the fury quarries. Herja and my mother, taken to the towers where they were tormented with the prospect of being enslaved for the use of the false king until their last breath.

To be here now, with Dagar, with Kjell, with all our warriors from those dark days fighting for the land we never forgot, my bloodlust turned into more than rage. More than remnants of a curse. It was an intoxication. A purpose.

Every corner, every wall, blood sang its song to the wretched desire inside. I caught sight of Elise near the walls long ago and had since lost her in the slaughter.

I had two objectives in this battle. Kill as many Ravens as possible, and replace my wife.

Niklas proved as formidable as his wife. The Elixist tossed strange powders, scorching skin, blinding Ravens in bright flashes long enough for Tova and Junius to cut from behind.

At my feet a Raven held up his hands, muttering for his life. I drew my axes down into his chest.

With a deep breath through my nose, I straightened, blood dripping from the curves of my blades. A blast near the walls stunned the battle for a few moments. Black and blue rose in a wall.

A wild grin spread over my lips.

Sol and Tor had found each other. They’d bring this field to ash soon enough.

At my next step, a deep, hot spark of pain exploded across my ribs. I stumbled, glancing down where a bolt had rammed into my side. Blood coursed down my tunic. My hand went to the wound, eyes scanning the field.

Damn.

The moment I locked gazes with his unfeeling blue, I wrenched the bolt from my side, ignoring the sharp jab.

I rolled the axes in my grip. I’d waited for this moment.

Jarl was a coward. He stood twenty paces off with at least a dozen Ravens at his side. Fury burned in my hands, but I wanted to savor his death. Crushing him beneath stone would be over too soon.

Jarl stopped. His hands and face were coated in blood, but his teeth gleamed from the carnage. “I warned the foolish king there was something more at that bleeding place. I warned you Ravenspire had secrets, Night Prince.”

“Secrets not even you knew, and secrets that have no benefit for you at all. You’ve boasted all this time over your power to win this fight. Seems it is in our favor now.”

Jarl frowned, clearly without a rebuttal. “Do not forget the only way to get the one you truly love off this field in one piece is to surrender. I’m sure the king will be merciful. Give you a villa, so long as you feed this land with fury. You could live long, quiet lives.”

“As slaves to a dying land. I am pleased you admit this land needs us, though. Denial was getting exhausting.”

Jarl rolled his blade in his grip. “So, we fight? You choose this kingdom over your queen? She goes to her death as we speak. Go to her, let me walk free, or fight now. End this between us and let her die.”

“You talk too much, Jarl Magnus.” I lowered to a crouch, ready to cut his tongue from his head if need be.

“See for yourself.” He pointed, and like a bleeding child, because I could not resist when it came to Elise, I looked.

My heart became as ice. Across the field, Elise carved a bloody path toward the walls. Her sights pinned on her sister, but what she did not see, what no one bleeding saw was the way Calder pursued her from behind with a unit of his top knights.

The false king had stripped his crown, made himself more like a warrior to remain elusive, but the way the guards huddled close to him, he was no ordinary warrior.

“Let me walk away, Night Prince. And you will have your chance to stop her, to save her from fate.”

Jarl Magnus was the slimiest underling I’d crossed in my life. If I turned from him now, he’d be gone. If I did not turn, Elise risked facing her sister and cousin unmatched.

A thunder shook the ground as my fury raged. I had a choice. And I was not alone here.

“Gunnar!” I shouted. My voice drew my nephew’s attention. He fought close by, but it also lifted my mother’s head. One thing I’d forgotten was how terrifying Lilianna Ferus fought in battle.

“The false king.” I pointed toward the battlefield. “Your arrows.”

Gunnar muttered something to the Raven he’d been fighting. The man had stilled, standing as if in a trance, then as Gunnar walked away, the guard took his blade and slit his own throat. By the hells, his magic was gruesome.

I lifted my palm and shook the earth, desperate to knock Calder off his course. Jarl didn’t run like I imagined the coward would; he stayed. From the corner of my eyes, he shouted to attack. He came for me.

I winced as I pulsed exhausting fury into the ground. It was not reaching Calder. I doubted Elise could even sense the power of it. Energy seeped from my blood, and Jarl and his Ravens were mere paces away.

A violent hand knocked me back.

My father shoved me away from the earth, eyes flashing in his own magic. “Stop. Pick up those blades and fight, Valen!”

“Elise.” Maybe ten paces and Jarl would be here, he’d meet us both. Calder would take Elise. My words wouldn’t form. “The false king.”

“See to your fight, then join us,” my father hissed. Then he ran after Gunnar. My mother behind him.

I didn’t have time to wonder if they were going after Calder, didn’t have time to pick myself up to chase them before I raised one of my axes and blocked a swift strike from Jarl’s sword. He cut a dagger across my middle. I kicked his leg, forcing him to back away to give me enough time to stand.

The Ravens cut at me without end. But turns as the Blood Wraith served me well.

I crossed a foot in front of the other. Exact. Careful. Strategic footing. To handle this many opponents without footing would need sure strikes. A blade came at the front, one at the back. I crouched between them. One axe cut at the ankle of a guard; my foot kicked out the feet of the other. A third guard cut across my wound from the bolt.

A hiss slid through my teeth. The Raven tried to strike my chest. I swung my axe up, cutting the inside of his leg. His body crumbled. Blood burst from the side of his thigh with each beat of his heart.

I’d let him suffer.

Skilled as I might’ve been, there were too many Ravens. Expend my energy by opening the earth, and be useless to Elise? Or fight until I had no blood left.

My options were piss poor, but only one clear path. Fight my way to her or die trying.

I took up my blades in a firmer grip, resigned to end this here, if fate would proffer me at least one more moment to see her face. But I didn’t get the chance to strike.

Ravens dropped their blades. They scraped at their faces. Blood dripped over their lips, down into their beards, over their gambesons. From their ears, their eyes, rivers of hot, dark death masked them until they collapsed in a heap.

I whipped around, ready to strike whatever fiend had attacked.

A figure—a man, I thought—came nearer. Perhaps he was a spirit of the hells, I didn’t know. He was dressed in pitch, and inky shadows curled over him like a mist of storm clouds. Once the last Raven finished choking on his own blood, the dark shadow lowered his hand, and the ribbons sank back into his skin.

Jarl muttered curses under his breath.

His guards were gone. He was alone.

“I’d like to move this along, King.” It was the man in shadows. “You want him?” He pointed to Jarl. “He fears you greatly. I could rid him of breath now, but I have an inkling you’d like to do it yourself. Hurry it up. Some of us would like to leave this bleeding kingdom.”

“Kase! Oh, damn. I mean Nightrender. Pleasure to have you join us, my friend.” Niklas waved from twenty paces away.

The Nightrender. Breaker of night and fear.

He was no myth and seemed entirely frustrated at the Elixist. From his grimace to his clenched fists, it didn’t take much to assume the man was not pleased his name had been outed.

He pinned me in a black glare, darker eyes than Night Folk, and jutted his chin. “Your target is running away, King.”

Jarl abandoned the fight, aimed at the trees. I scrambled to my feet and sprinted after him.

Ten paces at his back, I let an axe fly. A wave of violent delight rushed through my veins when the edge sliced into his shoulder. Jarl fell forward. He groaned, and tried to crawl away, blade in his back.

I stepped onto his spine. With no thought of pain or damage, I ripped the axe from his flesh. He cried out in a throaty whimper. This would not be the slow, torturous death I wanted. But to reach Elise stood before any desire for death.

I kicked Jarl, forcing him onto his back.

Blood stained the grass beneath him as my boot pressed down on his throat.

“You failed,” I said, voice harsh. “Today you’ll die alone, unloved, despised. A bane in the sagas and histories. The gods will never welcome you at their table.” I picked up the bloodied axe beside his head. “Go to the hells, you bastard.”

With both fists gripping the handle I burrowed the axe blade in the center of his skull.

Each breath burned as if torn from my lungs. Jarl was soaked in his own blood, nearly unrecognizable. The axe dug deep, and I would leave it there, marking him on the battlefield.

“We go to the walls!” I shouted, lifting the second battle axe. “We fight with the queen!”

Ettans shouted to my call and rushed behind me down the slope. I couldn’t see Elise. I couldn’t see Calder. The smoke and pyre blotted out everything. She lives. She must live. I repeated the same thought in my head as I led the warriors forward.

Jarl was dead.

Only Calder and Runa remained in this battle.

And blood was calling.