A Heart So Fierce and Broken (The Cursebreaker Series Book 2)

Iisak refuses to allow me to remove the chain. I refuse to send him back to the dungeon, and I refuse to tether him in my chambers. He dragged the rattling links around the stone floor for hours until I threatened to hang him with it if he didn’t stop pacing. My mood is bitter and recalcitrant, and I want nothing more than to sit in front of the fire to reevaluate every choice I’ve made since the moment Dustan appeared in the arena at Worwick’s.

Instead, I’m staring at the fire, thinking of Lia Mara. I wish I hadn’t given her my jacket. I wish I hadn’t endangered her. I wish I hadn’t—

“You seem unsettled, Your Highness.”

I glance at Iisak. He’s crouched in the darkest corner of the room, as far from the fire as possible, his eyes glittering black.

“Stop calling me that,” I snap.

“I believe you should get used to it.”

Silver hell. I run my hands back through my hair.

“What bothers you more?” says Iisak. “The man who lost an eye or our troubled princess?”

“Can they not both bother me?”

“For certain.”

I ordered him to stop pacing, but now he’s too still. Too calm. “What if she had told you to harm me instead of that man? Would you so quickly have bared your claws?”

“Yes.”

He answers so swiftly that it broadens my fury. I clench my teeth and wish I had asked for anything other than his freedom.

“I have already bared my claws to you,” he says. “You healed the damage within seconds. Why would I risk her wrath and refuse her order?”

I look away from him. The fire snaps and flickers.

“I have made no secret of my desire to return home,” he says. “I will spend my year sworn to you or sworn to her or whatever is required, and not one minute longer.”

“I will never make you do … that.”

“Do not make promises you cannot keep, Your Highness.”

I glare at him again. “I told you to stop it.”

“Return me to the dungeon if my presence troubles you.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Is that so tempting?” His eyes narrow slightly. “Truly?”

I grit my teeth and look away again. He is baiting me, and I know it.

“I imagine there must have been an element of relief to be a guardsman,” he says. “To know your actions were directed by another. To have no sense of accountability for what you were ordered to do.”

He says this as if I do not feel the weight of every action I have ever taken. “You do not know anything about my time as a guardsman.”

“I think it is telling that you ran from your birthright and chose an occupation near the lowest rung of Emberfall’s society. Were there no privies to clean?”

“Do you wish to fight, Iisak?”

He uncurls from his position by the wall, looping the chain between his hands, each link click-click-clicking as it passes over his claws. “I believe the better question is, do you wish to fight?”

I do, actually. My heart has been calling for action since I heard Karis Luran give the order to take Parrish’s eye. My muscles are tense with the need to best something.

In our final season together, the enchantress Lilith was secretly torturing Rhen each night. He would wake each morning and call for me to fight him in the arena. It was harder than any training session I ever had with the Royal Guard.

I never fully understood his need until this very moment.

I wish I could stop thinking of Rhen.

I rub at my eyes, but I sense motion in front of me and jerk my hands down. He’s come close enough to touch, each movement slow and calculated. Firelight flickers off the chain, off his wings, off those night-dark eyes.

He swipes his claws at me, almost quicker than breath, but I am ready for it, and I leap back, overturning the chair. My dagger finds my hand, but the sword is out of reach.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” I say.

“You want to fight with something.”

“What do you want, Iisak? Do you want me to kill you? Do you want to be put out of your misery?”

He laughs. “Do you think you could kill me?”

Without waiting for an answer, he launches himself at me again. His claws dig into my shoulder, but before I can land a hit with the dagger, he’s spun away.

He’s not quick enough to keep the chain out of my grasp, however. It jerks tight as he hits the limit, and I hold fast.

Despite his height, he’s nowhere near as heavy as a human man, and I drag him toward me easily, his feet digging into the stone floor.

As soon as he gets close enough, I swipe with the dagger. He swipes with his claws. We both lose—or maybe we both win. He went for my hand with the chain. I went for his shoulder. We break apart, both bleeding.

He gives me no time to recover. He leaps at me again, swiping for my face, for my neck. I bat his claws away with the dagger, but my forearms take most of the damage. He must sever something vital because the weapon slips from my hand to clatter to the floor. My magic responds almost without thought, healing the damage quickly enough for me to go after him with fists and brute strength. We collide with the other chair, with the chest of drawers, with the pile of logs beside the hearth. A drapery rips down from the wall.

Iisak twists free of my hold and buries those teeth in my forearm. I punch him, and it dislodges him enough that he leaps off me, my blood staining the skin around his mouth.

I roll fast and find the sword under the chair, but Iisak is on top of me before I can draw it. His hands aim for my neck, and I’m ready for him to swipe with his claws, but instead the chain catches me in the throat and presses me down into the stone floor. It’s so tight that I can’t even swallow. He kneels on my sword arm.

I fight his grip with my free hand, but now he’s got leverage.

I glare up at him, sure my eyes are burning with fury. I fight to grit words out. “What do you want, Iisak?”

He leans down, his face an inch from mine. Those fangs are still bared, still tinged with my blood. His breath is like a winter wind. “No. What do you want?”

I try to throw another punch, but he knocks my hand away, then puts his claws against my throat, right over the chain. I grip his wrist, but he tightens his fingers. I feel every single point of his claws against my skin, and I freeze. He doesn’t break the skin, but if I dare to breathe, he might.

What do you want?

Those words seem to drain the fight right out of me. My chest is heaving beneath his weight, and my throat burns with emotion.

There are so many things that I don’t want.

I don’t want Lia Mara to suffer for what I’ve done.

I don’t want the few people who’ve sworn to me to suffer for their allegiance.

I don’t want anyone else to be harmed.

I don’t want my country to fall.

I blink up at Iisak, and my vision blurs. “I don’t want to be at war with Rhen.”

The claws in my neck ease, and the scraver withdraws. I slide the chain away from me, then roll to sitting, rubbing at my neck. The magic in my blood rushes to heal any injury, almost without thought now.

I feel broken inside, and the sparks and flares of power can do nothing to heal that.

Iisak crouches before me, balanced on the balls of his feet. “Your brother is at war with his people. We have seen that in our travels.”

I remember Rhen’s steadfast determination to reclaim Silvermoon Harbor. “I know.”

“Even if you were still his guardsman, the people would be resisting his rule. Have you not considered this?”

“I have.” I think of everything Dustan has been forced to do since I left, and I imagine myself in his place. I don’t want to think that I would have turned my blade on the people of Emberfall, but I consider the oath I once swore, and I know I would have.

I swallow again. “There are no easy choices here, Iisak.”

“Easy,” he growls. “Choices are never easy. There are good and bad options, but the most dangerous is to not make any choice at all.”

I shift to sit against the hearth, seeking the warmth of the stones to combat the chill Iisak adds to the air. A part of me wishes my magic weren’t so efficient. I want to feel sore and broken for a while. I sigh, then look at him. “Thank you.”

He coils the chain in his hands, then nods and sits a short distance away. “I needed a battle as well.”

I glance around the room, at the overturned furniture and torn draperies. “I am surprised we did not draw the guards.”

“No sound escaped this room.”

I blink in surprise, then smile ruefully. “Your magic?”

“It grows stronger every day.” He pauses. “You did not call on yours.”

“I healed myself.”

He says nothing, but I can feel his icy judgment. I could have done more than heal myself.

“I would share a story with you,” he finally says.

“All right.”

“I would prefer this story not reach the ears of Karis Luran.”

I look at him. This reminds me of the night I shared secrets with Tycho. Maybe it was our fight, or maybe it’s our shared loathing of Karis Luran. Maybe he needs a confidant as badly as I once did. “I keep secrets well, Iisak.”

“Our people had an aeliix,” he says. “An heir. A prince, of sorts. He did not want to rule either.” He pauses. “He resented our confinement to the ice forests. He wished to destroy our treaty with Syhl Shallow, to grant us access to the warmer skies. He claimed his birthright was a burden. Many thought he was spoiled and selfish, but much like your brother’s feelings about magic, his resistance was rooted in fear. To rule is to take on the weight of all your people, to become leader instead of follower. To become parent instead of child.” Iisak twists the links of the chain between his fingers. They’re coated in ice that melts in the heat of the fire to drip on the floor. “Our aeliix fled Iishellasa through Syhl Shallow and was never heard from again.”

I study him. “Is this a story about you, Iisak? Did you flee your birthright?”

“No, Your Highness.”

I frown.

His eyes are so dark and resigned. His voice is very quiet, barely more than a whisper. “My son did.”

I straighten. “Your … son.”

“I believed Karis Luran held him captive.”

In the woods, Lia Mara asked what her mother had.

Something quite dear to me, he said.

I stare at him. “So that makes you …”

“Their friist.” He smiles sadly. “Their king.” He glances at the window. “Though I have been gone far longer than I ever anticipated. I may no longer have a crown to claim.”

This is a much bigger secret than anything Tycho shared in the loft. I suck a breath in through my teeth. “You’re to be her prisoner for a year, Iisak.”

“I would have risked a lifetime.” The fire crackles behind me, reflecting off his eyes. “Would you not?”

When I hesitate, he smiles. “You would. Were you a father, you would.” He pauses. “When I left Iishellasa, I tried to follow his trail, but I was captured, then traded, then sold, then gambled away.”

“To Worwick,” I say.

“Yes.” He pauses. “And I am not her prisoner now.” He drags those chains across his claws again. “Your Highness, I am yours.”

I swallow. “You’re not my prisoner, Iisak.”

“You made a bargain with Karis Luran. You cannot free me. Too much is at stake.”

There is always too much at stake. I frown again. “How do you know she doesn’t have him?”

“She would have demanded far more than a year.” He uncurls from the ground and looks out the window. “He could be long gone—or long dead. This was the final trail I had to follow.”

Now I understand why he needed a battle as well.

“I will find a way to earn your freedom,” I say.

“I can survive a year on a chain,” he says. “You have more pressing matters, Your Highness.”

I scowl, but he’s right. “Rhen rallied his people to drive Syhl Shallow out of Emberfall. He saved his country. It is not right to ride in and take it away from him.”

“He lied to his people to keep hold of his throne.” He pauses. “To say nothing of whatever actions allowed his people to fall into desperation and poverty.”

Yes. Rhen did that. I helped him do that. We had no other choice.

“From what I can see,” says Iisak, “there are few paths here. If you accept your birthright and return to claim your throne, Karis Luran will lend her support in exchange for an alliance with Emberfall and access to Rhen’s—to your—waterways.”

“Yes.” The fire snaps, and I draw my legs up to sit cross-legged.

“If you deny your birthright,” Iisak continues, “you will have to flee this palace.” His eyes are hard. “Karis Luran would not allow someone with your abilities to roam unchecked. Rhen would not either. You and your people do not speak the language here, but you could be recognized in Emberfall. This would be a challenging feat for anyone.”

“So my choice is to destroy Rhen or to allow myself to be destroyed. This is no choice at all.”

Iisak is quiet for a moment. “Why did you swear yourself into Prince Rhen’s service?”

“I swore to protect the Crown.” I hesitate. “To protect the line of succession. To protect the people of Emberfall.” I hesitate again, hearing the truth in my words. “To be a part of something bigger than myself.”

“And so you have.”

I run a hand across my jaw. So I have.

I swore to protect the Crown, and that meant whoever was rightfully wearing it. I swore to protect King Broderick, and after his death, I swore to protect Rhen. Not just because of who he was, but because of who he represented.

Have I been fighting against myself all this time?

“Let us not forget,” Iisak adds, “that you have something Rhen does not.”

I roll my eyes. “Magic.”

“You scoff!” His wings flare, and his eyes flash. “If you would stop fighting yourself, I believe you would find your abilities manifest very powerfully indeed. If you are the last remaining magesmith, you could be more powerful than any I have ever seen. I believe what happened to Rhen and his people is a mere fraction of what you can accomplish. Why do you think Karis Luran is so eager to undermine your talents?”

He is right. I am not sure I like it, but he is right. “As you say. I will draft the terms of an alliance with Karis Luran.” My chest feels tight. “I will make a claim for Rhen’s throne.”

“Besides, I was not referring to magic alone.”

“No? What else do I possess that Rhen does not?”

He smiles that terrifying smile, then tosses the length of silver chain in my lap. “You have me.”

I blink at him in surprise.

“Let’s battle again,” he says, and he flexes his claws. “This time, use more than your bare hands.”