Den of Blades and Briars: A dark fairy tale romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 7)
Den of Blades and Briars: Chapter 13

“We need travel notes.” Ari peered over a knoll as the sunset cut through the horizon like a gilded knife.

Through the whole of the day, we’d walked the tangles of the Mossgrove until we rounded Whisper Lake and reached the knolls around the township near the inlet sea of the Fate’s Ocean.

The township was a collision of fae traders from the Court of Hearts and the Court of Serpents, and the divide was clear.

On one side of the cobbled streets, the carts were bent and shaped from tree boughs until each stand looked like a small version of the original tree. The protruding branches were tied in golden ribbons with blossoms and sponge moss draped over the posts and countertops. Folk in the Court of Serpents would take any attempt to boast about their connection to the forest life.

While on the opposite side of the main road, carts and stands were made of polished cherrywood or permanent river stone that gleamed like pearly shells in the rising sunlight. Lanterns with candles of every tone of blue, and green, and red were laced on thick vines.

The traders and merchants of the Court of Hearts.

For all their differences, the township bustled and chattered and haggled the same on both sides.

There were mothers smacking away curious hands of their littles as they bartered with millers over grain sacks for oat cakes or millet bread. Dockers with sea burned cheeks peeled off smelly scarves around their necks and wiped their sweaty faces, while their daughters and sons laid out the morning haul on chipped ice and waxy parchment.

I looked over to Ari. He was fae, but Night Folk fae. Taller, stronger, with a commanding stride, unlike the common fae of the Southern Isles.

“You will be noticed. We’ll need to be disguised,” I said, a little despondent.

“Was the truth hard to say?” He grinned, and I rather despised how the white gleam sent an uncomfortable rush of heat to my chest. “Tell me how many times you imagined ratting me out to the first merchant?”

“Ah, too many to count,” I grumbled, the harsh burn of a lie twisting my tongue. Jest or not, the rune rite would keep us truthful to each other for now.

Ari chuckled and glanced down at the town center again. “Perhaps this is a first, sweet menace, but I agree with you. My glorious face will be noticed. It is a good thing the gods have blessed me with illusions.”

He swiped his palm over my hand, and half a dozen silver rings appeared on my fingers. Smooth, polished in jade stones and black onyx. They were beautiful and fleeting. With another flick of his hand, the rings faded.

“I will hide us in plain sight,” he went on, “but it would help to have true travel notes with new names. The fewer illusions I need to create, the stronger they are.”

I flicked my fingertips nervously. “Find me some parchment and I will do the rest.”

“You are convinced you can forge travel notes?”

“I have the neatest writing. Now go. You’re pestering me with your lack of confidence.”

Most men might be irritated a woman of a lesser status bared her teeth and bit their throats, but Ari was not like men I knew. Instead of snarling at me, striking me, or degrading me to keep me in my place, he looked wholly delighted.

“I do like when your claws come out.” He threaded his fingers through my hair, a touch there and gone before I could wrap my brain around it. “Makes the coldness in your soul rather interesting.”

I would not let his words cut, not even since they were the truth. He could not lie to me, so it was not a lie that he thought of me as cold. It didn’t matter. I thought he was many things too. Things I would not admit out loud.

When one could not lie, it was better to stay silent.

Ari abandoned me after subtly ensuring I was well hidden. A dull ache blossomed in my chest, like a fist knocking on my ribs from the inside. If Ari could not feel the irritating tethers of the bond when we stepped too far apart, it was wretchedly unfair.

From the moment Bracken had cursed me into Ari’s servitude, should I leave him for great quantities of time or long distances, the knocking on my bones came.

Dusk arrived before Ari returned.

Purple twilight glittered across damp blades of grass. Here, I was concealed well enough by the edges of the Mossgrove. Branches stuck out, reaching for the clouds, but tangled with other trees like fingers laced in a lap. Leaves were speckled in more than greens and yellows. There were some branches where it was endless autumn. Red and brown and fiery orange lit up the veins of every leaf. Others were evergreen. Blue and green pine needles bled between the silver aspens and lavender shrubs.

I lifted a fallen twig and poked at a blossoming bloodberry shrub. The fruit grew wild in the knolls. Plump, burgundy berries filled with bitter juices that turned sweet once swallowed. The leaves were polished leather black, and thick thorns speckled the branches like wolvyn teeth, long and hard and white.

Once I grew bored poking the shrub, I stuck my hand into the brambles, careful not to snag on a thorn, and plucked a pouchful. I plopped a few onto my tongue, moaning when the juice burst in my mouth, then slid down my throat like honey.

“Now that is a sound I could get used to.”

I whirled around. A stick-like man stood ten paces off, balding, with a gold tooth in the front of his smile.

Instinct flared, and I reached for my knife. By the time I looked at my intruder, I loosened my grip on the hilt. Already the receding hair was replaced by the wheat-golden locks, and the rod-thin limbs were filled out with Ari’s lean strength.

He waved a hand over his face until the illusion faded completely.

“What?” He paused, an arch to one brow. “Did I forget something about my fetching features?”

“Yes,” I said, ignoring the way my throat thickened from something other than berry juice. “You forgot to fetch any fetching features.”

“Oh no.” Ari shook his head. “So close, my sweet menace. You almost had an insult there. Almost, but alas, it fell rather short. Good attempt to play on your words, though.”

I cursed him under my breath. He merely laughed and handed me a roll of parchment with a charcoal pen.

“Make yourself useful while I work,” I said, if only to get Ari to give me a buffer against his bleeding face.

I’d gestured to the shrubs, indicating he ought to gather some food we could pack whenever we left the town again, but instead Ari sat beside me. He kicked out his legs and laced his fingers behind his head. “Then I shall stay right here. I’m told my presence is useful in every capacity.”

“Gods,” I murmured, but turned away, praying he didn’t see the tug of a smile at the corner of my mouth.

The tavern was small, ripe with the musk of leather, sweat, and a touch of cloves beneath it all. There were only a few rooms in this house, but we’d done it intentionally. Less tenants meant fewer eyes to wonder about the strange young couple seeking room and board.

The tavern matron eyed our forged travel notes, penned descriptions of our court or land of origin, turns we claimed as our births, and surnames.

“I’ve never asked your surname,” Ari had said, offhandedly. “It is a word for raven in the North. Funny how there are no ravens here.”

I offered him an indifferent shrug, killing the topic before it began. He knew as well as I there was at least one raven in the south.

I did not use the true spelling of my surname, but one of the old language from centuries before—Ravn. The same as Ari had done for Sekundär. He’d used an old language word for second. I’d have preferred to use wildly different names, but to my irritation, the blood rite kept us from grand forms of deception with each other. I did not know how it would fair against others.

“We made the rite to each other,” Ari had said in the wood when I’d approached the concern. We couldn’t exactly face folk and say we were fugitives from the Court of Hearts. “I was able to lie to my heart’s content when I went for the parchment.”

Now, standing in front of the surly matron of the tavern, would be the true test.

“Betrothed?” the matron asked after a torturous silence.

Ari draped his arm around my shoulders and tugged me into his bony side. “Aye. She’s my lovey. Not much to look at, but swear to the gods she can cook.”

His voice was accented as if we’d strolled out of the underground knolls in the isolated farmlands near the Court of Stars. He looked like a farmer: mule strong, long, dark hair in a knot at the back of his head, with canvas trousers and a dusty jacket.

I was his homely bride to be.

He’d given me silk-thread thin hair the color of dull soil. A few spots on the crevices of my nose and lips, and eyes that no longer had a lick of my normal steel blue. I was rod thin, like I hadn’t eaten in weeks, and the tattered skirt I wore had a reek of fish oil in the threads.

The matron returned a gruff harrumph, then turned to me. She had a beak-like nose that hooked at the end, and her eyes were pitch as night and glossy as wood lacquer. I’d guess she had touch of blood fae in her blood. Made her briskness more palpable.

“All right then.” The woman folded up the travel notes, handed them back to Ari, and I breathed again. She swiped her coarse hair off her brow and gestured to the wooden staircase in the back of the house. “Only have the upper room left, but it has a door.”

“There aren’t two rooms?” I blurted out.

Ari shot me a sharp look, but I was keen to ignore him.

The woman snorted a long sound, one that gurgled through the hook in her nose. “Two beds? Girly, isn’t he your lover?”

“Maj is a chaste fae and expects me to be as much.”

“Well, your maj isn’t here. We got the one room and enough folk to fill it if you’d rather pass.”

“We’ll take it.” Ari said, snatching the tarnished brass key from the matron’s hand before he gripped my arm and started pulling me away.

“A sup is served at sunrise,” she told us, leaning over the counter. “Roast eel and boiled pheasant eggs, or cheese and veal pie. You two are in luck, my son and husband only finished brewing our famous honey mead this afternoon. It’ll be served for a clock toll.”

“How fortunate we are to have stumbled upon such a charming place as this. The gods could not replace more comfort in their gilded halls,” Ari said. He even added a slight bow to his waist.

Were his words part of the illusion? Or was he simply that sly that he knew how to dig under the skin of brisk women enough to leave them red in the face?

With more force than was needed, Ari dragged me up the crooked staircase, then nudged me into the small, but clean room in the far corner.

He hooked the silver chain onto the notch, locking us behind the door. With a long sigh, he closed his eyes and his familiar face returned. I dragged my fingers through my hair. Once more, the dark, thick braids were there.

“Two rooms?” Ari narrowed his eyes. “We are not here to bring attention to ourselves. At least, that is what I thought. Have you changed our plans in so short a time?”

“No.” I folded my arms over my chest. “But the thought of being trapped behind four walls with you turns my stomach.”

Meant to be an insult, but it was the truth. A reluctant truth. I simply did not need to tell him the thought of sleeping in the same room had twisted my insides in nervous knots. Not disgust.

“There are technically more than four walls.” He scowled and gestured at a large alcove window. “You may sleep there if it is so disgusting to you.”

Arrogant, feckless man. “You sleep there.”

“Oh, not a chance in the hells.” Ari chuckled and flopped backward onto the large, log bed. It was lined in soft rabbit pelts sewn together in one large coverlet, and a patchwork quilt was folded at the foot of the bed. The way it molded around Ari, I dared to think it might be stuffed with river moss or goose down. It might be both.

The aches in my joints, my back, my neck, sobbed to rest atop a real moss bed.

I drummed my fingertips against my thighs, considering. I knew mistrust was written across my face. A rune rite did not erase suspicions I’d held for nearly the three turns I’d known Ari Sekundär. “You’ll keep your clothes on?”

I could tolerate many things, but sleeping next to this man naked was not one of them.

“Doubtful.” Ari rolled onto his stomach, clumped a pillow up into a soft ball beneath him, and rested his cheek on it.

“Do you ever tire of your voice?”

“As I once told my dear friend, the Nightrender—never.” A half grin split over his face, and it was a sight I enjoyed too much. “So, sweet menace, have you decided to bed me yet?”

“As I once told my irritating master—never.”

“Wait, what is that look of astonishment on your face? What is it you thought I meant?” Ari lifted his head, patting the soft furs. “Bed me as in share the bed. Really, you ought to keep your thoughts less vile. It’s not appealing.”

I was going to cut out his tongue and wear it like a prize around my neck, an award for shutting the man up at long last.

I crossed the room with heavy steps, wrenched the pillow out from under him, then laughed when Ari nearly rolled off the bed. With the three remaining pillows I built a small wall down the center of the bed.

Ari studied my wall of fluff with a bemused grin. “What a mighty fortress you’ve built. I daresay it would stop a bleeding army from touching you. Impressive. I bow to your skill at keeping the ghastly hands of your enemies at bay.” He lifted his rough palms and wiggled his fingers. “I’ve thought of a great many ways to have you for myself if ever I shared your bed, and now whatever shall I do? It will be impossible to live out the dream.”

I bit my lip. Surely every word was a jest that had slipped through the rite since it wasn’t utterly malicious. I didn’t know if such a thing were possible with a simple blood rite, but his words couldn’t be the truth. To think Ari imagined touching me in a different way had my pulse fluttering, and I had the odious desire to grin.

“You are the most aggravating man I’ve ever met.”

True in many ways.

It wasn’t my proudest retort, but it was all I could muster. My body was worn and heavy, and my mind felt as if it were filled with nothing but swirling water.

I wanted to sleep, not dance in verbal lashings with Ari.

I was silent as he retrieved from his pack a few powders made from mint leaves, cinnamon bark, and a bit of thyme, then gave a handful to me. I went to the clay basin and tipped some icy water into it and slurped some water into my mouth with the herbs.

Once my tongue and mouth were clean, Ari did the same.

I hesitated at the bed, considering it might be safest for me to be by the door in case my master decided to turn into a fiend in the night. I could escape easier. Only once I was convinced my wall of pillows would not fall did I kick off my boots. I unfolded one of the quilts and began claiming my side of the bed, but stopped when Ari gripped my upper arm.

He shook his head. “Other side of your mountainous barrier, sweet menace.”

Why? He wanted me nearest to the blank wall. He would be nearest to the door. Did he think I’d escape during the night?

He followed my gaze and nodded as if reading my mind. “I will sleep by the door, thank you.”

Ari gestured at the wall side again, and before I could argue, he claimed his place on the bed.

I rolled my eyes. I supposed if he hadn’t raped or murdered me yet, he wouldn’t likely start now. I climbed beneath my quilt and faced away from the pillows, away from Ari. “I’m starting to think you are a child and must piss a dozen times during the night or you’ll wet yourself. Nothing to be ashamed of, Master. Parts don’t always work.”

I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Ari muffled a laugh into the mattress. “I assure you, my parts work like a miraculous phenomenon that leaves those lucky enough to experience them speechless.”

“I’m sure you like to think so.” I hugged the quilt tighter under my chin. “I just wondered since you’re being so particular. Being nearest the door, should we be attacked, means you will be struck first. Odd preference, is all.”

Ari was quiet for a long pause, and I considered he might’ve already fallen asleep. But after a moment, he sighed. “Exactly the point, sweet menace.”

Then he rolled over onto his opposite shoulder, the bed shifting under his weight, and our backs were against my wall of pillows.

Ari couldn’t lie to me. Not for another day. He . . . positioned himself there with intention.

His even breaths came quickly, but my pulse never stopped racing.