Den of Blades and Briars: A dark fairy tale romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 7)
Den of Blades and Briars: Chapter 19

“Why are you staring at me?” Ari lifted his head, eyes blinking against the stream of sunlight that broke through the opening.

I scoffed, ignoring the flutter of relief in my chest. He’d gone so still, so cold. For most of the night, it was all I could do to keep him warm. I’d twisted our limbs together until we’d become one form for as long as I could.

The only bright spot was he’d been so far gone, the nightmares left him in peace and in a deep enough sleep, he’d not noticed when I’d been forced to leave to answer the curse to shift forms. Still, even in my second form, I’d never left the mouth of the burrow.

I’d never left him until enough time had gone by to satisfy the curse to shift, and I’d crawled back inside, holding him close.

“I’m not staring.”

“You are. You’re gawking. As if you are astonished someone so grand would lie beside you.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to put distance between us. Being so near was causing me to lose my wits. I’d almost convinced myself it would be terrible if Ari never woke.

“You are more enjoyable when you sleep, since it means you do not speak,” I grumbled. “Gods, you smell like a rotting corpse.”

Ari scrubbed a hand over his face, shaking the last of his weakness away. “What a blessed man I am to have such sweet words first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, well, you’ve earned them.” I dragged myself from the burrow and brushed off the dirt from my trousers. “The guards are long gone, but they have our direction. We’ll need to stick deep to the wood. More difficult a route, but we have no other choice.”

Ari winced as he dragged himself out behind me. He cracked his neck side to side, then stretched his shoulders. “We should be off quickly then.”

“I was merely waiting for you to decide to wake.”

“Did you worry I wouldn’t? Speak true.” He grinned that odiously amusing grin like he already knew the bleeding answer.

“I’d already made plans how I could use your funeral pyre to keep warm.”

Ari pressed a hand to his heart. “You’d light a pyre for me? I’m touched. Truly.”

I shook my head, frustrated and amused in one horrid collision of emotions. “Just . . . hurry.”

I was only a few steps away before he spoke again. “Saga. The illusions . . . they worked then?”

He couldn’t remember? I ought to take credit, make a grand tale of how I defeated the guards with a stick.

I glanced over my shoulder and grinned. “They were utterly terrifying, Ari.”

How did a man who was not born in the thick brush of the Mossgrove keep so light on his bleeding feet?

Fire blackened my lungs with every breath. It was as though my body were turning inside out with the wicked pace Ari kept through the trees. Tangles of thin brush whipped against my ankles and legs. Vines caught in my braids, so by the time we reached a hidden spring, my neck ached from being yanked back too many times.

“Rest,” Ari said without resting himself. He merely dropped the small satchel from off his shoulder and scrutinized a narrow, overgrown path leading into the rocky ravines of the forest.

I slumped against a smooth stone. The yellow and blue moss coating the side cushioned my back. I let the mist of the small trickle of water from the stones into the spring soothe my cheeks. Then, I cupped a handful of the azure water and wetted the back of my neck, the curves of my throat. When I opened my eyes, Ari’s heated stare was locked on my hands.

Hells. I’d not realized I had started tugging the high neck of my tunic down. The thick wool itched horribly, and despite the chill in the air, my skin was overheated from practically running behind Ari’s long legs.

I hurriedly adjusted the collar around my throat. He was impertinent enough, if he caught sight of the new welts and scars across my neck, he’d ask. Then, when I did not tell him anything, he’d pester me until I stabbed him or leapt off a cliff.

It was safer for everyone to keep my skin covered.

When I looked again, he was still staring at me. I hugged my knees to my chest and narrowed my eyes. “What?”

Ari blinked and turned away again. “Are you prepared to continue?”

No. Not even close.

“Yes.” I forced myself to my feet.

“There looks to be an evergreen grove ahead. We can camp there. I don’t want to risk the more populated townships. Rune is so chatty, odds are word will be trickling in and folk might feel ambitious to snatch us up.”

I snorted. Rune had the restricted capability to turn others to stone, but I never believed him to be entirely made of stone. Not since we’d kept each other’s secrets. Still, the way he’d been blank in the face at the Tavern, I did not recognize him.

“Do you think the forest folk have sided with the Borough?” Ari asked.

“Only if Hawthorne’s darling wife demands it. The Court of Serpents is notorious for remaining neutral until victory is certain. Still, they might not pass up a lucrative opportunity to sell the Borough fugitives.”

“No doubt the same can be said for Gorm and his blood court. But they’d sell us off piece by piece. Remind me why we’re intentionally going to the Court of Blood? What if they compel us to stay?”

“More than blood fae have the power to compel,” I said. All gods, how I knew that.

“Yes, but they are sly, enslaving other fae to their whims, commanding them to do as they wish, sucking their souls, or like our terribly irritable Rune, turning them to stone.”

“They know a great deal about glamour,” I said. “The more I think about it, the more I see wisdom in asking for their help. Of course, we will likely need to make it worth their while.”

“I killed many of their folk in the East. Worth their while will be cutting off my ears and eating them.”

“Not a bad idea, Ambassador. I think I’ll make the offer the moment I have eyes on Lord Gorm.”

Ari glared at me. “Now is not the time to practice your retorts, my sweet menace.”

My face sobered. Strange, but there was a true unease within him. If I were crueler, I might double down and dig the knife of his discomfort in deeper.

For some gods-forsaken reason, cruelty toward Ari left a sour taste on my tongue. “Ari, blood fae are not all wretches like you think.”

“When they have done nothing but try to slaughter me, then they will be named the most wretched of wretches.”

He was speaking of a moment when young blood fae called sluagh attacked him in the Eastern Kingdom.

“Young sluagh who are left to the wilds should not be your final opinion on the Court of Blood.” I insisted. “They are fae folk like the rest of us, but are held at a leery distance because of their glamour and abilities.”

I understood the aversions, but they were also folk who had families, young ones, and loved the same as those in other fae realms.

In my frustration, I didn’t notice Ari had stopped until I slammed into his back. “Gods, what are—”

“How did you know about the sluagh attack?” Those bright, honey eyes he was so proud of were narrowed into dark slits. “I’ve never spoken of it with you. Sofia, perhaps?”

Ari didn’t give me a chance to respond before barreling on, “But how could that be, since Sofia was imprisoned in Hodag’s burrow when the sluagh attacked? By the time we emerged, the bodies were gone. She only received secondhand accounts, and I never said they were young sluagh.”

Three hells. There had to have been others who’d seen the carnage that went on in those trees. I was unsettled, slightly afraid of the dark look in his eyes, but like the ambassador, I knew well enough how to hide the secrets.

“It is incredible how much you don’t realize you speak. You’ve told the tale many times.” I sneered through the lie, but he could not know otherwise.

Ari would either abandon me from his fear of his raven, or he would use me the way others had all my life. I stepped next to him until our chests brushed. A mistake, since I was at once reminded of the alluring feel of his strong body pressed against mine.

“You regale your heroic tale of slaughtering the sluagh when you’ve had a great deal of wine,” I said, voice harsh. “Each recount gets grander.”

Ari’s lip curled. There was no way of knowing if he believed me, but waiting to replace out seemed too great a risk. I narrowed my eyes and strode past him into the spruce trees.

For several heartbeats, only my footsteps broke over the dried leaves. Then, like a damn phantom, Ari’s voice came from a shadowed clearing ten paces ahead. “There will be rocky pathways if you keep stomping in that direction.”

“How . . .” I glanced over my shoulder. “How is it you know the terrain so well when you are not even from these lands?”

“I’ve existed in exile for most of my life, sweet menace.” He stepped from the trees. “One grows rather accustomed to different terrain when they have no home.”

His words were an irritant to my chest. A bite, sharp and sudden, almost like my heart wanted to sympathize with him. I refused. “Am I meant to pity you since you had to live in a tent for a few turns?”

“No. Pity is not an emotion I would expect from one so hardened. It would be horribly unsettling to behold.”

We said little as we walked. I would not say his words ever wounded me, more stung.

“Here.” Ari pushed aside thick spruce boughs to a small, shadowed space with enough grassy area to sprawl out comfortably. “Eat something,” he said gruffly and tossed his satchel at me. “I’ll set traps.”

“Why not trade watch shifts?”

He smirked. I hated how I enjoyed the mischief in his eyes. I utterly loathed how it caused my stomach to flip.

“For many reasons. First, I do not trust you now that our rite has died; I’d not sleep a wink knowing you held a blade close to my throat.”

“A thing you’ve done to me already, and I’ve slept beside you for—”

“Second,” he went on, ignoring me. “I have no fury strength to use illusions again. Third, the sky is moonless tonight. With the trees, it grows too dark to continue safely.”

“Fourth,” Ari snapped when I stayed silent. “I’m bleeding tired. You look gods-awful yourself. We’ll set traps and sleep in short intervals.”

I let out a snort of irritation when he strode into the thick wood. I did not look gods-awful. He was . . . well, he was dirty too.

The pathetic retort died on my tongue as I hugged his satchel tightly and inspected my appearance. Not that I needed his approval, but I looked all the same. Mud soaked the bottoms of my oversized trousers, dirt caked beneath my fingernails, and small pieces of my dark hair flew around my face. I did not dare lift an arm. No mistake, I smelled like piss.

“Travelworn is the word you were looking for!” I called to the trees. “What more do you expect when you sprint through the wood instead of careful strides like most sane folk!”

All that was returned was Ari’s deep, throaty laughter from somewhere in the night.

I was in the hells with an insufferable, arrogant fae, and if I paused long enough, I might admit I had not felt this safe in a great many turns.

By the time Ari returned, I’d created a small bed out of the tall grass and blue moss. My cloak was wrapped tightly around me. I’d taken two pieces of eel jerky he’d buried at the bottom of the satchel and enjoyed every bleeding bite.

I had tossed his supplies to the side without a care for making him a bed.

He paused at the edge of the narrow campground. I didn’t look at him. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Traps are set. They’ll go off should anyone step too close. No fire, so make certain your head and feet are covered.”

“Worried for me?”

“Not at all,” he said. “If you freeze, I’ll be forced to leave your corpse behind, and it will be a clue to the direction I’ve gone.”

I rolled my eyes and flipped onto my shoulder, so my back was facing him. The words didn’t hurt. They were annoying. Nothing more.

I tugged my cloak to my chin and drew my knees to my chest to ensure my feet were, in fact, covered. Not because his advice was some great burst of wisdom, of course, but merely common knowledge that would bring me discomfort should I ignore it.

Ari busied around the campground, making up whatever bed he planned to sleep upon. I was glad to know he’d settled a slight distance away. Body heat would be wise, but I’d rather freeze than sleep close to his long, powerful . . . brawny body again.

We said nothing, and it wasn’t long before sleep pulled me under.

A shudder woke me, and the night was a thick, blanket of pitch. I was too warm, and something was choking me around my middle.

My eyes snapped down to my waist.

Ari’s arm was draped over my stomach, holding me tightly. Somewhere in the night, he’d rolled next to me, no doubt seeking warmth. I licked my dry lips and carefully, desperate not to wake him, rolled over until I faced him.

Ari’s wheat-golden hair was mussed around his brow. The stubble on his face had more of a russet color over his clenched jaw. Between his brows, his forehead was contorted like he was in agony. His mouth was set in a tight, pale line. Small jerks of his shoulders told me he was locked in another dream.

In a moment of madness, I ran my thumb against the tension furrowed between his eyes. A breath escaped him, and his body went still for a few moments. His face relaxed the more I rubbed the tension from his forehead.

Soon enough, his breathing slowed to a peaceful, restful pace. I propped onto my elbows, simply studying him as he slept.

“What burdens do you hide, you beautiful bastard?”