Den of Blades and Briars: A dark fairy tale romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 7)
Den of Blades and Briars: Chapter 6

Anger was compelling. Strong enough to heat the blood and give proof the heart could still feel. For the entirety of the journey to the upper knolls, I seethed in a bit of rage against the ambassador.

He thought himself clever, avoiding my eyes. Fool. If Ari wanted to prove his innocence in whatever happened with the docker, he’d laugh and taunt and speculate with the others. The blood on his knuckles, the sweat on his brow, the smudges of dirt across his face I’d witnessed near the gates of the Borough last night now made a great deal of sense.

I did not need a damn hero defending my honor. Give me a blade and I would defend myself.

Ari was skilled in some areas. Even reluctantly, I could not deny he was a warrior hidden beneath quick wit and too much chatter. He managed to finagle respect no matter what kingdom he visited, while I managed to secure disdain. He made others laugh, but in the next breath could wipe tears from the burdened. I hardly knew how to offer a touch of comfort without fretting I was doing it all wrong.

But he was horribly unskilled at hiding his guilt.

One mention of the docker and his skin paled, then a flushed bloom of heat crept up his neck, then came the hurried aversion of eye contact. Next, Ari’s tell-tale sign of too many nerves. I’d learned it of the man soon after joining his household, and hated how it made me more curious. Ari’s knee bounced incessantly.

As though whatever it was he felt was too much to contain, and his body was fighting the urge to run.

Should the man ever be interrogated, he’d be found out in three breaths.

Hells, I hoped it was my presence that had him so skittish. I hoped my stare carved into him and had him on edge, like a knife jabbed into his ass. He deserved to have a taste of the constant, jittery unease I experienced around him day after day.

The coach rolled to a stop at the base of the gentle knoll. The lush grass was more blue than green, and smelled of boiled berries with honey. The Wind Knolls were a common place for folk to take vows. Rumored to be the place where ancient kings took vows with their brides before the gods themselves.

I did not believe the tales, but secretly appreciated the romanticism.

Trees were laced in twine strands holding small lanterns forged by the pixie folk, the smallest fae with a talent for their intricate steelwork. Benches were made from thick slabs of oak coated in moss and mushrooms.

In the center was a small clearing. Bracken was there, close to Sofia, laughing at something she’d said. Bracken tucked a lock of Sofia’s wild hair behind her ear as she adjusted his cloak broach to make him seem more sophisticated. To the side, Princess Signe sat atop one of the benches, appearing rather bored as she pointed her face to the sun.

Rune and Bo, as usual, were the silent sentinels at his back. Darkly dressed, weapons posed and threatening across their backs, and a stern set to their jaws. Rune had his wings pinned back, and Bo had shaved the sides of his head and added a new line of rune symbols down his scalp.

My chest squeezed in a bit of longing. Not so many months ago, I stood among them. I would’ve known why Bo added more tattoos to his skin. I’d know if Sofia had finally given in to her desire for Bracken and told him the truth of her feelings.

Cold despair filled my heart. Hair lifted on my arms. Aches and pains I’d not felt for turns scorched the edges of my heart, and it was wholly Ari’s fault. The man had used some strange fury, and it had unlocked a bolted door around my heart that gave way to all the pains of feeling.

He did not know the damage he’d done, of course, how could he? I’d never tell him, not even if a rusted blade were at my throat. But I would still hate him for it all the same.

I didn’t resent Bracken for my century-long sentence as Ari’s captive. He did what he did to appease his new subjects while also saving my life. And maybe he did it to annoy me a little too. I’d never told anyone, not Sofia or the king, why Ari Sekundär aggravated me, but it wasn’t hard to guess that he did.

Bracken had always had a love of jests and practical jokes. To him, I had few doubts, this pairing was nothing more than a thing to laugh about for a century.

Once the coach stopped, the men began to file out one by one, keeping close to the coach as they scanned the area. Even if the king was already there with his guards, it seemed the Northern folk could not help themselves but look for threats. A life of war had brought them to be overly cautious perhaps.

“What is she doing here?” Frey grumbled.

I leaned forward in my coach seat to follow his gaze. Dammit. Astrid stepped from a small phaeton. She was dressed as though she still wore the high crown. Black velvet with silver stitching rustled over the grass.

I blamed Ari for many things, but only because I could not voice how much I blamed the queen for everything.

I couldn’t tell anyone the truth of many things, lest I desired more pain. The maiming sort. She’d know. I didn’t understand how she learned the secret moments of my existence, but Astrid seemed to have eyes in every shadow of the kingdom. If I spoke the truth, the invisible tethers she had in my blood would make me pay.

Gunnar huffed, glaring at Astrid. “I don’t know why Bracken keeps her around. She fought against him, and she goes on as if nothing has happened.”

“She is his mother,” Stieg offered. “Even you might have difficulty slaughtering your own mother.”

Gunnar’s mouth tightened. “It is a good thing my mother is no traitor. I don’t like Astrid so close to Eryka.”

True enough, the queen stood aside, and Eryka descended from the phaeton with her ghostly-pale attendants from the Court of Stars. The young princess was bright and lovely, but nothing lit up her eyes like Gunnar Strom. The moment she laid a glance on her betrothed, Eryka forwent propriety and bolted across the knoll.

“Gunnar!”

Gunnar promptly wrapped her in his arms, pressing his customary kiss to the jagged scar across her face.

“You should know, Princess,” he whispered, low enough I only heard since they stood close enough to my side of the coach, “that I am replaceing sleeping apart to appease your mother rather difficult. I had many unsavory dreams of what I plan to do with you the moment you are in my bed.”

Eryka’s eyes flashed in a dark heat. “I’m glad to hear it, for I was thinking such thoughts belonged only to me.”

“Not at all,” he said, breathing her in. “I like the slope of your neck, and plan to kiss the length of it when we’re alone.”

“Well, I like your . . .” Eryka scanned his face, thinking on a whim. “Shoulders.”

“My shoulders?”

“Yes.” She squeezed Gunnar’s arms, inspecting her reasoning. “They’re broader than me, and I like the idea of your body covering me up.”

His eyes darkened, and Eryka was emboldened. “In fact, your face would grow red with embarrassment if you knew the things I planned to do with you. Things that do not require clothing, of course. My lady’s maid fetched me a salacious text in secret, and it’s caused me to be quite curious if tongues are as useful as it says.”

I bit the inside of my cheek at Gunnar’s open-mouthed stun. “Gods, woman.”

Gunnar kissed her, grinning against her mouth.

They were the one bright spot in this land. Young, and wholly devoted to each other. But their attempts at filthy talk were another form of entertainment I never knew I needed until I began to overhear these sultry moments between a thieving prince and a starlight princess.

Both were delightfully awkward with words of lust and sensuality.

“Does it pain you to hear such adorations, Saga?” Ari stepped between the coach and the young lovers, blocking my view. “Such warmth must aggravate your icy heart.”

“What a clever tongue you have, Master.” My lip curled in a sneer. “Tell me, do you suppose it is the same wit which frightens women away from your bed, or is it merely your face?”

Ari tilted his head. “How long did you practice that retort? Be honest. There is no shame in trying to grow your humor, even for such a lost cause as you.”

By the hells, even his insults were uttered with such mirth, the instinct to laugh earnestly clung to the back of my throat. I swallowed it away.

With my gaze locked with his, I leaned over the edge of the coach. “I know you are behind the docker. Why did you not leave it be? Do folk not hate me enough without you antagonizing them on my behalf? Or was that your plan? Anger them, so they might burn out my tongue after they try to rape me next time.”

For the slightest moment, Ari’s face paled like he might be ill. In another breath it was gone, and his jaw pulsed with tension. He leaned forward; our brows nearly touched. “I would not fret on such things, my sweet menace. No man could stomach such closeness with one as cold as you.”

The words came sharp and harsh, like a hot dagger to my innards. I flinched and despised myself for it. Those insults were delivered without humor. Those were meant to cause damage. A true reveal of Ari Sekundär’s hatred of me.

He turned away when Bracken called him over to the opposite side of the knoll, leaving me to bathe in his knife-sharp words.

I quietly escaped the coach, desperate to avoid notice of anyone else, but the instant my feet touched the spongy soil, a firm grip curled around my wrist.

Astrid dragged me to the rear of the coach. Her eyes boiled in frustration. “I requested you come to me before the revel. What games are you playing, little one?”

“No games, My Lady.” I had to spit the words. “In case you have forgotten, I serve a new master, and must answer his call.”

“A master.” Astrid chuckled with bitterness and dragged one finger down the center of my forearm. Beneath her touch, a faint, gilded glow followed. The mark of my imprisonment. “You are a fool if you mistake who owns you.”

She did not understand. The longer I was bound to Ari, the weaker her chains around me grew.

“What have you learned of the ambassador?” Astrid whispered darkly. “The Draugr wishes to know more of him.”

I rubbed the spot over the rune tattoo on my forearm, as if the mark would protect me against Astrid’s new-found darkness. It left an uneasy knot in my gut, almost familiar. Like I’d stood before such darkness before.

The Draugr. A name of a mythical horror from the hells. Fitting for the darkness to which Astrid was slowly binding herself. A voice in the shadows. A faceless creature that I could never see, merely feel. Like a frigid breeze, or a prickle on the back of the neck when secret eyes were watching.

Since returning from the East, the former queen had embraced a new wickedness. I didn’t understand it, but I’d heard the whispers, felt the evil. There was something out there in the dark, trying to break free. Astrid was a fool to think she could control something with such an essence forever.

“I’ve learned nothing,” I said. “He’s an insufferable man who is incredibly loyal to his king and queen. There is nothing of more depth to Ari.”

“You think you are clever.” Astrid lowered her voice. “I see through you. You keep secrets to use in your favor, but you will not break my hold on you. Not unless I wish it. Do not forget that.”

A chill danced down my spine. “How could I forget, My Lady?”

“Good.” She released me, a false smile on her lips as she stepped back. “Then you’ll do your duty and face the consequences for your failure to obey. Tonight.”

Astrid pressed her thumb against the soft glow under my skin. A hiss of pain slid through my teeth when the fire scorched up my arms, when my limbs tugged as if snapping in two.

She chuckled, then left me to stand beside the others as they fawned over the beauty of the spring blossoms that would be perfect for the vows.

I blinked until the tears fell back beneath my shield.

My life had not been my own since my family was removed from power during the wars. A creature, cursed with emptiness by a brother who did not want her to hurt, handed down to the new royal line, bound to serve the throne on which my folk once sat.

When Astrid seized power over me, she’d used the opportunity to use such a pathetic servant to spy on enemies, to overhear private conversations, all to keep her ass on the throne.

It had mattered little to me. My heart was once empty. I felt nothing. There was no desire to obey, and no desire to disobey. Her fire ropes that she created with her glamour compelled me forward, and there was no thought to the consequences or pain it might bring to others.

Until a spark ignited within me, and the will to resist her unfolded piece by piece. The glamour binding me to Ari was her greatest frustration since the bond with my master was slowly overpowering every spell keeping me mindlessly loyal to the isles. Hells, the bond was even overpowering her glamour compelling me to be her creature.

Ironic how the man I fought the most was the one who’d never brought physical harm to me. He confused me, tumbled my thoughts into a turmoil of befuddlement.

There were times when Ari was close that I wished I could once again return to the cold shell of a fae I’d been. My brother’s old spell rite had cursed me with a frozen heart. To some, such a thing would be like living in the hells. To me, it was the only bearable way I knew how to live.

And the numbness would never return so long as Ari was close. He’d broken through it with one glittering smile, and I did not know why.

I hated him for destroying my brother’s final act to shield me.

It hurt to feel. It was terrifying.

I would hold fast for the next hundred turns, and pray when Ari left me in peace, the spark of feeling he ignited in my soul would die once again.