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

Sea mist cooled the heat of my face as the currents shifted to the rough tides of the eastern sea. The rocky shorelines of Klockglas, my home—if one could call it a home—darkened the mists in the distance.

Several clock tolls ago, Niklas and his guild had left us to sail toward their region of Skítkast, and I had half a mind to turn about and follow them.

Nothing but trouble, likely a fair bit of pain, awaited us in Klockglas.

At my back, my guild switched positions at the oars. Two days into the journey and Gunnar was replaceing his place. Lynx stuck close to him, introducing him to the others. The truth? The boy was impressive. He’d fought in a battle, slaughtered many, but he was too gentle. To be a Kryv, to survive in the eastern regions, he’d need to sharpen a few edges.

More so since his journey was leading him—us—to House Strom.

What the hells was I doing? Why was I doing it? I gave up the past long ago to be like Hagen. To keep her free.

All these turns later, and I could not escape the name Strom.

I propped one foot on a lip of the stempost and leaned over my bent knee. From inside my tunic, I pulled out the thin twine and rubbed the wooden rose charm between my fingers. I closed my eyes, and unbidden wretched thoughts filled my head.

A time when littles laughed, a time of first loves.

I hated them. Every memory was a weakness, a threat to my guild, and now I was leading them straight into the fire.

“Kase.” Raum came to my side, his silver eyes always smiling. “There is a unit of skydguard on the west shores. We ought to take the south channels.”

I nodded. Raum was a good Alver to have close with those eyes. After battling the North’s Raven guards, I had little desire to meet our skydguard. They were sods who loved to spill blood for the fun of it.

“Are you going to tell us what troubles you?” Tova slipped around Raum, stretching her arms, and splitting a seed roll in two. She glanced at the wooden rose but didn’t ask. She never did.

“No trouble,” I said.

Raum accepted half Tova’s roll. “It is the princeling’s father, isn’t it?”

“Don’t call him princeling. He is Kryv now and shouldn’t be thought of as anything else. Not on our shores. He’d be plucked like a blade of grass should the Lord Magnate learn of him.”

“True.” Raum flicked his hands for no reason, then again, he rarely stopped moving. “Why does this Hagen Strom distress you?”

“I’m not distressed.”

“Bleeding hells.” Tova rolled her eyes and pointed at the rose. “It is in your hands, and I’ve known you long enough to know when you are bothered the bleeding rose is rubbed until your thumbs blister.”

I hated them and loved them in the same breath.

“If Gunnar is right and Hagen has brought attention to himself . . . it will not only be his life put on the line.” I frowned. These were pieces I’d always vowed to keep silent and hidden in my own past. “There could be another—an Alver—put at great risk of the Lord Magnate and the masquerade.”

At the mention of the Masque av Aska, Tova shuddered. We didn’t mention the festival, didn’t even think of it. Until now. No doubt we’d have no choice.

Raum stared out at the black tides. “What then? Do we not look for the father?”

“No.” I tucked the rose back under my tunic. “Hagen is a good man. But he has a connection, and exploiting it, hells, even drawing attention to it could begin a fight more dangerous than a missing Alver.”

Raum and Tova shared a look.

Tova popped the last of her roll into her mouth and shrugged. “We would not be the Kryv if we did not revel in tricky schemes. We just fought a bleeding war for a different kingdom and won a crown. Why stop there?”

Raum snorted a laugh but nodded. “We plan, we draw some blood, we live to see another day. This will be no different.”

They had no idea how different it could be. How those who’d kept power would fight to the deadly end if they discovered what the Guild of Kryv was about to expose.

“Tell us where we start, Kase,” Raum pressed.

I hesitated and looked out to the soft waves.

The prophecy about my fate from the north unnerved me. The truth I’d learned of how Elise had chosen her king despite lies and blood unnerved me. In the north, everything was about choice. It fit too well, too close to old, dangerous tales for comfort.

Now, a secret I’d fought to keep all this time was unraveling bit by bit.

In truth, I’d always had the power to begin battles. But I vowed never to expose it. For her sake.

Hells, I despised the fates. They’d never been kind and it felt a great deal like I was walking into their bleeding trap whether I wanted to or not.

“Kase,” Raum said. “What is the first step?”

“I need information.”

“Who is the mark?”

My past was about to become my present. “An Alver. A woman who steals memories.”

Tova lifted a brow, almost surprised at the Talent. Hard to do being that we’d all known our share of unique Alvers. “Do you have a name?”

Like a fire to my bones, I knew if I opened this never-healing wound, she would be caught in the bloody maelstrom of our life and our survival. I’d be wise to keep quiet.

But I was clever. I never pretended to be wise.

“Malin Strom.” I pressed a hand over the hidden rose on instinct. “Her name is Malin Strom.”