Den of Blades and Briars: A dark fairy tale romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 7)
Den of Blades and Briars: Chapter 38

Yarrow fanned her face with a toadstool and scrutinized our apparel, our faces, as if to determine if we’d bedded each other well enough while in her cottage.

It was all Yarrow had chattered about with her courtiers—Ari’s body shape and how it would be relevant to his manhood or how he performed. She wondered if I was a bore or if my spirit came out behind closed doors. Yarrow imagined ghastly positions that seemed impossible, and she did all this through loud whispers to her ladies.

Whispers she intended for us to hear.

“While entertaining as your game has been, Lord Hawthorne, we are short on time in our journeys,” Ari said.

Hawthorne laughed again and offered two of his wooden coaches pulled by two swamp nokks. The water horses were the color of the swamp reeds sprouting in the murky water, green in the right light, but mostly like swirling mud. When they shook their manes, drops of water sprayed our cheeks.

The nokks pulled their shapes from water but thrived in the damp forest of the Court of Serpents.

If we found my feather, the blood claim to the isles, what was I to do with it? I had no desire to claim any throne. Gorm seemed to think my decision was clear, but Bracken was a fine enough king.

I glanced at Ari who was enraptured by the watery charge and kept asking the guard in our coach questions.

He was violent and dark, then in moments like this he was bright and curious.

I reached across the wooden bench and took his hand. He turned away from the nokk and smiled, taking a pause to kiss the top of mine.

It was settled. We’d take back the feather, but take the truth of it to our graves. And we’d cut off Astrid’s head for good measure. If she was possessed by Davorin, he would go to the hells with her. A mimicker fae who could possess like him had to plan their kills and leap from the heart before it stopped beating, or they would die as well.

We’d live simply. In the isles, the North, I didn’t care where.

Settled.

Ari directed Hawthorne to drop us near the borders of the peaks, near the place Riot had marked on his rough map.

For most of the journey, I was almost at peace, almost content enough to forget the dangers rising in the Southern isles, until the coach stopped at the first row of slanted peaks. There, on the borderlands of the serpents and the rocky paths to the high mountains, a gilded line of Borough warriors stood at the ready.

“Hawthorne, what is this?” Ari leapt from the coach, tore the serpent lord from his cushioned seat in the lead carriage, and had a dagger leveled at Hawthorne’s throat before my mind caught up with the trouble.

Instantly, serpent blades were leveled at him.

My knife was out and aimed at the ribs of one man. The fox-green eyes of the guard narrowed at me. I wouldn’t yield. I knew how to kill at least two of the men before they’d kill us.

Hawthorne wasn’t frightened. The bastard simply laughed, using one pretentious finger to push back on Ari’s breastbone. “They arrived last night and followed in the brush. What did I tell you, Ambassador? I enjoy watching which side to choose. My love raised her stakes, and I raised mine.”

The Borough guards parted, and Rune stepped forward. A curse slipped from my throat. “Rune, you do not need to do this. You know things are not what they seem.”

He paused, tilted his head for a breath, then kept striding forward. The man I’d once stood with on sparring fields and lived with in the barracks during training looked on us with a scorching hatred. Such fire lived in his eyes I could imagine it must burn in his veins, that his skin would be hot to the touch.

Rune’s wings were spread on his back, catching the sun in a wispy prism of color, opposing the dark shadow in his gaze. A blade in hand, he stepped aside when Bo joined him. The tracker’s dark hair was mussed, and his thick, boiled leather cloak was stained with swamp mud and a russet color I suspected was dried blood.

Bo’s eyes were deadened more than Rune’s, and I took note of the discolored tips of his fingers.

What was happening to my folk?

In Bo’s grasp, a fae three heads shorter fumbled at his side like a bulbous pear. Hodag tried to bite Bo. He didn’t flinch, and allowed a guard at his side to strike Hodag on the top of her head.

“We found your burrows, Ambassador,” Bo said in a voice too sharp for his even temperament. “Clever.”

“Didn’t tell him anything,” Hodag growled, still swinging her shorter arms. “My dark tracker lovey isn’t bein’ himself, and I wanna smack him.”

“I feel the same, my love,” Ari said with bright poison on his tongue. He was furious, but kept a grin for Hodag’s sake. “When this is all cleared up, we will all take turns rubbing your feet for your trouble.”

Hodag seemed empowered by his words and kicked the ankle of the guard who’d struck her head, causing the fool to leap aside, cursing the troll.

A pace behind them, five guards materialized, two haggard prisoners between them.

“Frey! Stieg!” Ari’s eyes flashed in anger. He wheeled on Hawthorne, blade pointed at the lord’s throat again. “You harm royal dignitaries and warriors of the Ettan court, then you have called for war. A bold move since my people will sink your swamp into the bleeding sea.”

For the first time, Hawthorne seemed less arrogant and more afraid. Tales of Valen Ferus’s feat of bringing forth a mountainous wall from the sea near the East to shield the land from cruel sea folk had not gone unnoticed.

To bury the Court of Serpents in the earth would be nothing more than a flick of the wrist for the earth bender. Or so that was how it played out in my mind.

“This is not war,” Hawthorne blustered. “It is a move in a power struggle. It is what we do.”

“Your move was the wrong sort, you bastard. We do not play such games in the North; we end them in blood.” Ari’s face had shaded a deep red with rage.

The violence he promised lived within him was there, plain as the glimmer of afternoon light on the stones. He was a deadly wonder. Tender and warm in one moment, in the next, a death omen of the gods.

I could marvel at him all day were it not for the bleeding army surrounding us.

“Lower your blade, Ambassador,” Rune snarled. His voice was laced in disdain. Rune did not speak much, but he’d never showed anything but respect for the Northern fae.

“Release my men.”

“They were rightfully apprehended in an attempt to steal from the Court of Stars.” Astrid cut through the whole of the army.

My blood hardened to lead in my veins.

“Ari.” My voice croaked in a soft whisper. “I knew it . . . I told you what he said.”

Davorin promised we’d meet again soon and now . . .

Ari must’ve understood, for he abandoned Hawthorne at once and stood in front of me, one hand protectively behind him, as if he might push me back should she charge.

I narrowed my eyes, searching, desperate for any sign Davorin existed. I saw nothing. Astrid looked as she always had, hair braided in a towering design on her head, eyes aglow with her fiery power, rings on her fingers.

But Davorin could be there. She was darker in the heart.

“You will not come closer,” Ari said.

I gripped his arm and tried to shove him aside, an attempt for me to step in front of him. If Davorin wanted to break me, he could use Astrid’s voice and demand an archer loose an arrow into Ari’s heart. No one would stop it.

Ari didn’t budge no matter how much I tried to step in front. Damn long-limbed Night Folk.

Astrid grinned. Still like the power mad queen I’d always known. “Ambassador, it is you who will be coming with us.”

“Is this your choice?” Ari said. “A declaration of war with the Northern lands? You saw how it ended in the East. Imagine what will happen again, since the High King Bracken is not here to authorize any of this.” He swung his gaze to Rune and Bo. “You disgrace your position as royal guards. You disgrace your king by acting beyond his command.”

“My son is not well.” Astrid glanced toward the sky. “The moon is thin; our king is not to full strength and must be guarded. I will speak for him until he is well once again.”

It was true. Bracken was at his most powerful when there was no moonlight or when it was a glistening full orb, and his body was practically impenetrable. During the weaker moons, Bracken could be killed easier. He kept close to the Borough with more shields in place. But it did not mean he had no voice.

Knowing Astrid, she likely added a tonic to his tea to make the waning worse.

“We will not be going with you.”

Bo’s voice grew low and menacing. “You are tied to the murder of Princess Signe—”

“Cease speaking, Bo,” Ari snapped. “I tire of you.”

Bo flinched. I didn’t think he found the words terribly upsetting, more that he was unsettled at being chided in such a way.

“Of what crime are my men accused?” Ari asked.

“As we said: thieving from a royal court.”

“We took Eryka at her request. She is not an object to be stolen!” Stieg shouted, then lost his breath when a Borough guard slammed a hilt into his stomach.

“Don’t you go touchin’ him.” Hodag swung one of her thick fists at the guard. She thrashed and spit and kicked.

The guards seemed taken back by an outburst from a troll and stepped back as she flailed.

Stieg winced, but held out a hand. “Don’t lose your head, Hodag.”

She picked up a twig and tossed it at a guard, lips pouted, as she grumbled once more, “Don’t be touchin’ him.”

Something was not right. I stepped forward. “Why would the ambassador’s men have need to steal a princess?”

“You, little one,” Astrid growled, “will not speak unless spoken to. Or one might have need to make you pay for insolence.”

I did not miss the way Astrid’s eyes flicked to my crushing grip on Ari’s arm, nor the wretched smirk in the corner of her mouth.

“Speak to her like that again,” Ari said with venom. “And my blade might . . . slip.”

“Ari,” I whispered, pulse racing.

“Ah, making threats to another royal,” Astrid grinned devilishly. “You all heard him. I wonder if that is what he said to your princess before he destroyed her.”

She had the nerve to whimper a sob.

“Come without incident, Ambassador,” Bo said. “If you are innocent, then you have nothing to hide.”

“Or stay and die,” Rune tacked on, then gestured to the treetops with a cruel smile.

I patted Ari’s shoulder.

“Cursed hells,” he whispered.

All around us, archers aimed black stone arrows from the thick, mossy branches of the trees. Ari clasped my hand and pulled me into him.

“Saga, I do not see a way out,” he whispered. “Shift. Go from here.”

“She will compel me back, then everyone here will see, and who is to say what they will try to do. Ari, without that feather I have no claim to the power of this land. I am just a raven.” I gripped his fingers tightly. “And I’m not leaving you so you can play the hero and me the damsel. You’d boast about it for turns.”

He chuckled and squeezed my hand in return.

I met his gaze, voice soft, too low for the others to hear. “We do not see a way out. Yet.”

He gave me a sharp nod, and it was all he had time to do before two guards ripped us apart and had us in ropes like the others. The only difference was they snapped bands onto Ari’s wrists.

He fought a look of pain and sneered at Astrid. “Fury bindings. Clever of you.”

“I learned quickly after facing your damn glamour—”

“Fury,” Ari said lightly. “Say it right or do not say it.”

“I look forward to cutting out your tongue.”

“Ah, you and so many others.”

The man’s sharp disdain was going to get him killed. Astrid patted his cheek roughly, then signaled to the guards to turn from the Court of Serpents.

The moment Hawthorne faded into his court, Astrid took hold of my throat. “I am told you have made yourself a wife, little one.”

I fought to be free of her, but she only tightened her grip.

“Get your hands off her.” Ari shoved against the guards, but Rune shoved him to his knees, a blade at his throat.

Astrid’s lips split. I could almost see the darkness of Davorin shining back out, but perhaps it was just what my mind was telling me I saw.

“I hear it was necessary. I hope you’re not fond of your husband since you’ll still be required to kill him, but as I understand it, this ceremony is all to replace something I will certainly want. Tell me how to reach it.”

“Never.” I shook my face free from her grip.

Bands of fiery red coiled from her fingers.

“Don’t touch her.” Ari fought against the guards holding him back.

I braced for the burn and bit my tongue until the sour copper taste of blood dripped down my throat. It wasn’t enough. When the fire ropes wrapped around my throat, a cry of pain cut through the air.

“Do not disobey, it will only bring you pain.” Astrid tightened the ropes on my neck. I curled over my knees, desperate for air.

“Saga.” Ari’s voice was frantic. “Saga, tell her.”

He didn’t want me in pain, but if she knew, if Davorin figured how to reach the feather before us, we were all dead anyway.

“Saga, I beg of you.” Ari did not beg, but his voice was rife in a new kind of panic.

My eyes cracked. Flesh burned, and the cloying scent of it overpowered the blossoms. It must look to others as if every layer of flesh were peeling away.

Fear, potent and dark, lived in the fierce amber of Ari’s eyes. For a moment, I could imagine him as that terrified boy tied to a tree. I could see the horror of watching those he loved being destroyed and being unable to stop it. The same way he could do nothing now.

Rune gripped his hair, wrenching his head back, baring his throat. The edge of the blade drew blood.

“Saga, please.” His voice cracked.

“Tell me,” Astrid commanded. “Or I will be the one to destroy your husband. Slowly. Until he begs for death.”

I wouldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t.

We did not have a way out. Yet.

I patted my throat, and Astrid loosened the grip to allow me breath enough to speak. I lowered my voice so only she could hear. “The blood feather of the raven line. We’ve been given a clue how to retrieve it. You know it is a task only I can complete. But it is also a journey that includes Ari. You cannot touch him.”

“The ability to speak to the land.” Slowly, viciously, Astrid’s smile spread. “How will you replace it?”

Hand in hand. Band by band.

I looked to my ring, to Ari’s. “Let me go to him.”

Astrid smirked with a horrid arrogance, and gestured for me to go to his side. Rune lowered the blade, but kept a grip on Ari’s tunic. I scrambled over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He clung to me, trembling.

“I will kill him,” he said at least three times, so only I could hear. His fingertips gingerly touched the charred lash around my neck.

“Ari, our bands, our vow bands, I think they are key.” I nuzzled against his neck, wanting to breathe him in before Davorin tore it all away.

“Hand in hand.” He pulled back and stared at his palm, then lifted his eyes to me.

Slowly, I slipped my fingers into his palm, arranging our grip in a way, the two wooden rings aligned.

A rumble shuddered through the swamplands.

“All gods.” A young-looking guard leapt back at the edge of the Mossgrove. “My Lady Astrid, look.”

My mouth dropped. The ground had given way to an unnatural sink hole. Vines and leaves pillowed around a sand-covered chest.

“What sort of glamour is this?” Rune muttered.

“Old glamour. There are tales of mystical journeys of fate with hidden clues from the gods. We may have found ours.” Astrid gestured at Ari. “Open it.”

Rune and Bo forced him off his knees. His eyes narrowed at Astrid, but he didn’t fight when they shoved him next to the box. His fingers ran along a rusted and worn lock. “I need Saga.”

Bo didn’t ask permission before he wrenched me over to his side. Ari held out a hand, his face made of stony focus.

“Our rings are the key,” he said, softly.

True enough on the lock were two indentations were the wooden bands would slip inside.

“Ari, look.” My fingertips traced a small rune, burned into the side.

Riot’s crest.

Ari’s jaw pulsed. He held my stare for a few breaths, then gave me a nod, holding tightly to my hand. We removed the rings from our free hands and pressed the edges into the indentations.

The soft click of the ancient lock was deafening.

All eyes were on us as we leaned over the edge of the chest. Some might’ve expected poisonous air, maybe a chest of vipers. Ari’s grip tightened on my hand as he reached for the yellowed scroll of parchment. With care, he unlaced the thin strip of leather keeping it tied, then unrolled the scroll. His shoulder’s slumped and he chuckled with a bit of nervousness.

Voice low, he said, “I do not know if your brother could see into the future, but I have no doubt I will be of use here.”

I peered around the parchment. My lips parted when I met his eyes. “It’s a map.”

“One with symbols of magic and unseen things. A specialty my father happened to excel at, one he taught to me. Reading what was not truly there.”

“You can read this?”

“Likely better than anyone here.”

I gripped his arm with a new possessiveness. I did not know if I believed in fated mates, or love without a choice in the matter. But I could not shake that something had tied my path to Ari Sekundär, and I would protect him at the cost of my own life, my own damn destiny if needed.

Astrid chuckled. “This might be simpler than I thought.”

Bo took the map. “I’ll take over from here, Ambassador.”

“Be my guest, Tracker.” Ari said, a deadly undertone in his voice. “Let us see how you fare with such a map.”

I cried out, my skin raging from the fire rope, when a guard dragged me away.

Ari was on his feet in the next breath, and after my cry, came the guard’s. He moved like a shadow, and had his thumb rammed into the soft flesh beneath the guard’s jaw; his second thumb dug into the man’s eyes.

He didn’t pay any mind to Rune’s blade aimed at the side of his neck once again, and was wholly focused on the guard who had me in his grip. “Take your hands off my wife. We will follow without incident, but if you touch her to the point of pain again, it will be the last thing you do. I am not a stranger to killing without a blade.”

The guard winced, and slowly loosened his grip on my arm.

I wasn’t certain if it was awe in Rune’s eyes, but he studied Ari like it was the first time he’d seen the man. Whatever it was kept the blade to Ari’s throat docile.

Only once I gave Ari a nod, signaling I was all right did he release the guard. A trickle of blood followed where his thumb had broken the skin under the man’s jaw.

“Keep them separated until we need them together again,” Astrid said. I was pulled away from Ari and brought to Astrid’s side. “We follow a new fated path where you shall win a banner for your queen. Great change is coming to our kingdom.”

Change was not the word I’d use. We would replace destruction.