A Vow So Bold and Deadly (The Cursebreaker Series Book 3)

No one has tried to kill me, but this feels like an ambush all the same.

Hundreds of merchants and laborers pack the courtyard in front of the Grand Marshal’s home. They’re angry, all shouting questions at once. They want to know why they should pay taxes to the Crown if I’m determined to remain allied with a country that failed to produce an army. They want to know why soldiers forced their way into Silvermoon when the Grand Marshal attempted to block access a few months ago. They want to know how we’re going to stop another invasion from Syhl Shallow.

They want to know why I think I have any right to be here.

I can’t answer any of their questions like this—and it wouldn’t matter anyway. They’re too loud, too angry. Dustan and the other guards have formed a barrier between me and the people, but I only brought eight guards for this visit. Our horses are stabled in the livery, so we can’t flee.

I do not understand how fate can consistently deliver such conflicting results all at once. I’m at odds with Harper again—but I have a dagger at my waist that could stop Lilith. I finally have insight into Syhl Shallow’s movements—but I have an angry crowd at my feet.

Dustan has a hand on his sword, but he hasn’t drawn it yet. Neither have the others. Right now, the people are just angry, but a weapon has the potential to turn anger into a death sentence. I’ve heard Dustan’s reports about their attempt to take Grey when he was in Blind Hollow, how the townspeople turned on the guards and soldiers and drove them out of the city.

Rebellion is contagious, my father used to say. All it takes is one unchecked rebel and you’ll have a dozen more in a matter of days.

This is more than a dozen. I wore armor as a symbol of strength, but now I’m wondering if it’s going to be a necessity. My earlier frustration with Harper has vanished, replaced with a biting panic that she’s somewhere in the marketplace, mostly unguarded.

I can’t even send a guard to find her, because they’d have to fight their way through this crowd first.

Anscom Perry, the Grand Marshal, is on the steps with me, standing to my left, but he looks a bit smug. His own guards surround the courtyard, but they’re taking no action. At this point, I’m not even sure whose side they’d be on if a fight erupted.

Chesleigh is off to my right, and she looks grim. She’s got a hand on her own weapon. She brings me stories of unity and progress in Syhl Shallow, of preparation, and here I can’t even meet with a man about aligning his private army with my own.

I felt like a failure for the entire duration of the curse.

Now I feel like a failure for an entirely different reason.

I look at Marshal Perry and keep my voice low. “You will ask them to disband.”

“Why?” he says, unimpressed. “Do you not always ask your people to speak true?”

“Not like this and you know it.”

A man shouts from the crowd, “You lied about forces from Disi!”

“You aren’t the rightful heir!” shouts a woman.

Another man rushes forward and shoves one of my guardsmen, but he’s quickly knocked to the ground. A child nearby screams. The guard begins to pull a sword.

“Hold!” I snap, and the guard hesitates. “I will hear your complaints, but I will not—”

“Liar!” shouts a man. “Liar!”

Quickly, others bring up the same chant. That man shoves my guardsman again, and I can feel the guard’s frustration when he’s been ordered not to draw a weapon. When the shove is unchecked, the crowd begins shoving at my other guardsmen. Someone spits in Dustan’s face. He sets his jaw and holds his stance.

Chesleigh pulls closer to me. “Sometimes making an example of one gets the attention of many.”

“If we draw blood first, this will end in a massacre. Possibly of my own men.”

“I’m not talking about the crowd.” She looks at Marshal Perry. “I’m talking about making an example of him.”

“The courtyard is surrounded by my own guards,” he says with a laugh. “Go ahead and try.”

Months ago, when I traveled to Hutchins Forge with Grey, we were ambushed, but it was nothing like this. The Grand Marshal and his Seneschal had plotted to manipulate me out of silver, and when they failed, I was forced to make an example of the Seneschal. I ordered Grey to kill him—the first time I’d ever given an order to end someone’s life. I’d caused a lot of destruction as a monster, but it was the first time I’d been responsible as a man. It was horrible then.

It would be horrible now.

My heart is pounding like someone has drawn a weapon on me. This is like the moment Grey refused to reveal the name of the heir. Emberfall is in danger, and my hand is being forced.

Every time I need to take an action like this, I hate it.

I hate it. But I see no other way out.

“You will tell them to stand down,” I say tightly.

“I will do no such thing,” he snaps.

“This is treason.”

“It’s not treason if you’re not the rightful heir.”

“Commander,” I say, and my voice is rough.

He turns to look at me, and my guardsmen are well trained. Another guard shifts to take his place. Dustan’s hand is still on his sword. Spit is still wet on his cheek.

I don’t want to do this. Grey always made it seem as though it was easy to take action, to accomplish these horrible things. I always thought it would get easier every time I have to put lives at risk, but it doesn’t. It gets harder.

Marshal Perry must realize that I’m serious, because he takes a step back. His guards have begun to shift forward. “You think you can hold your people together this way?” he shouts. He spits at me. “You’re no better than Karis Luran.”

My pulse is a roar in my ears. I inhale to give an order. His blood will be on the stones, and there will be no way to undo it. I can’t undo what I did to Grey, either, but there was no other choice.

There is no other choice now.

I can all but hear the crowd suck in a breath. A pause, a hesitation.

A boy shouts from amid the melee. “Father!” he screams. Others are holding him back, but he jerks free and runs for the steps. “Father!”

“Luthas,” snaps Marshal Perry, and his voice is ragged. “Luthas, get back.”

“Rhen!” shouts Harper from somewhere distant. Her voice is so faint that I almost don’t hear her. “Rhen!”

I turn to find her fighting her way through the crowd, Zo at her back. The people rock and shove against her, but she’s fearless and gutsy and elbows her way past them. My heart lights with both relief and panic at the same time. Anyone could have a blade. Anyone could use her against me right here and now.

“Father!” shouts the boy.

“Luthas!”

One of my guards steps forward, his blade drawn.

I remember Grey at my side the last time we came to Silvermoon. I was speaking of the Royal Guard’s prowess in battle. It was once said that approaching the royal family was a good way to lose your head in the street.

I jerk my eyes away from Harper, and I jolt forward, toward the boy. “Hold!” I snap. “Hold!” But the crowd is too loud, the tension too palpable. The guard’s arm begins to fall.

I shove him away, throwing up an arm to deflect his blade. The sword falls against my bracer and skids off. The guard stares at me in shock.

The boy is on the ground, his arm up, his breath high and keening.

I look up, searching the crowd for Harper. As my eyes lift, the shouting around us changes. “It’s the princess!” they yell. “The princess full of promises.”

“Dustan!” I shout. “Find her!” But then I meet her eyes in the crowd—and just as suddenly, Harper disappears from view. My vision narrows with singular focus. I forget the Grand Marshal. I forget the people. I forget the war and the enchantress and the guards at my side.

I’m unaware of leaving the steps. I’m unaware of drawing my weapon. I’m in the thick of the crowd, shoving people away, resorting to my sword when they don’t move quickly enough.

“Release her!” I shout. “Do not touch her.” My rage burns the air around me, hot and thick. When I make it to Harper and Zo, they’re on the ground, but the men surrounding them fall back.

Zo seems uninjured, but she’s on one knee, her dagger up, blocking Harper. Harper’s dress is torn, a long rip from the shoulder into the bodice. A panel of the skirts hangs awkwardly in the dirt. Her dagger is gone. She’s got a swath of dirt across her scarred cheek, and she’s panting, clutching a hand to her side, but she’s trying to get to her feet.

I put out a hand to help her, but I want to bury this sword in the chest of every single man surrounding them. I want to do it twice.

Harper’s breath hitches, and my eyes lock on hers.

“I’m fine,” she says, but her voice wavers, belying her confidence. “I’m fine.” But then her weak leg gives way, and she begins to fall.

I catch her, pulling her against me. It’s only then that I realize she’s trembling.

We’ve caught the crowd in a moment of indecision. There’s still so much violent promise in the air. I can’t tell if the people are more alarmed at what I was about to do—or at what they were about to do. My guards are at my back, and to my surprise, Chesleigh has followed them down off the steps with weapons in hand.

I look at the men and women surrounding us. “You will let us pass,” I say. “Or I will execute every person who stands in our way.”

“Rhen,” Harper whispers against my armor.

“I mean every word,” I snap, and I must look deadly serious, because a few of the men shift and shuffle back a step. These aren’t soldiers. These are merchants and dockworkers. Weavers and butchers. Few of them are armed. Children stand among them.

They came with questions and accusations. They might have spit in Dustan’s face and shoved my guards, but they didn’t come for bloodshed.

I’m the one who almost brought it.

Dustan steps in front of me. His own sword is drawn. “Clear a path,” he says sharply.

They do.

“Rhen,” whispers Harper. Her fingers dig into my arm, and she tries to take a step, then stumbles. “Wait. I don’t—I don’t think I can walk. Just—just give me a minute—”

We do not have a minute. I sheathe my sword. “Hold on to me,” I say, and I draw her arm across my shoulder, then scoop her up into my arms. She’s so fiercely determined that I expect her to protest, but maybe she’s as shaken as I am, because her fractured breath trembles against my neck.

As we stride out of the courtyard, the shouted questions and accusations resume. I keep my eyes forward, my arms tight around Harper, striding all the way to the livery to fetch our horses. I want to be thinking of ways to resolve this, to earn back the respect of the people here. To build my army, to create a larger show of strength against the forces Grey is readying against me.

But instead, all I can think about is how I came here hoping to project a show of strength and purpose, and now this feels like a retreat.

I think of how my people almost died at my hand, when they simply came seeking hope and change.

I look down at Harper, and I think of what she did—what she stopped—and what she risked.

This might feel like a retreat, but at this moment, I don’t feel as though I’ve lost anything at all.

Harper and I haven’t ridden double since the first day she arrived in Emberfall. Then, she’d tried to escape from Ironrose and ended up saving Freya and her children. We needed extra horses, so Harper rode at my back when we went to the Crooked Boar Inn to secure a room for the others. She hated me then.

She might hate me now, honestly. I have no idea.

Then again, I don’t think so. Her arms are tight around my waist as Ironwill steadfastly canters along the road. She did not balk when I considered her pained expression and offered to share a horse.

But she hasn’t said anything since we left the city.

Nor have I.

My feelings of betrayal from hours ago, when I learned of Lilith’s visit, have wilted and shriveled into nothing. That felt petty and impudent, the way I was in the early days of the curse, when I thought I could stomp my foot and give an order and the world would right itself. She was trying to protect me, as I’ve tried to protect her. In the castle, in front of my guardsmen, it made me feel weak and powerless. But when I saw Harper overwhelmed by the men in that crowd, I … I forgot everything else.

Once we’ve put a few miles between us and Silvermoon, I let the horse slow to a walk. At my back, Harper remains silent. Dustan rides close, but the other guards have fallen back. Chesleigh is among them, riding beside Zo.

On the steps, Chesleigh said, “Sometimes making an example of one gets the attention of many,” and those words keep ringing in my thoughts. It feels like something my father would have said. My father would have killed Marshal Perry without hesitation. My father wouldn’t be in this mess.

I keep telling Harper that Grey isn’t suited to be a king when I have no idea whether I am.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Harper’s soft voice at my shoulder takes me by surprise. No, the apology takes me by surprise.

I turn my head slightly, seeking her eyes, but she’s looking out at the countryside, her cheek pressed to my shoulder.

“I just wanted to warn you,” she continues. “I mean … I guess you didn’t need it. But I’m sorry I … I ruined whatever you were going to do.”

I spend a moment trying to figure out her tone. It sounds suspiciously similar to the way I feel: Uncertain. Ineffective. Vulnerable.

“You ruined nothing,” I say.

“Well, you were about to say something to the crowd, and I came crashing in—”

“I was about to order the death of the Grand Marshal. One of my guards was about to slaughter his son.”

That shocks her into silence, and I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“As you see,” I continue. “You ruined nothing. You stopped me from taking an action I could not undo.” I pause. “I want my people to have faith that I will do right by them. I have spent so much time resorting to violence that it has begun to feel like the only solution.”

She’s still quiet, but I sense her judgment riding on the cold air. Ironwill tugs at the reins, so I give him another few inches to stretch his neck, then reach out a hand to rub the itchy spot under his mane, just where he likes.

“I thought you were mad,” Harper says.

“Mad?” I feel her shift, so I turn my head and catch a glimpse of her blue eyes. “I am furious that Marshal Perry sought to trap me. I don’t think his intent was violence, but it could have quickly turned to that. I am angry that I anticipated gaining another few thousand soldiers for the King’s Army, and now I am leaving empty-handed.”

“No—I mean, I thought you were mad at me.”

I hesitate, then rest a hand over hers, where she grips tight against my sword belt. Her fingers are cold from the wind, but they grow warmer under mine. “No. I am grateful that you thought to warn me.” Another pause, as I consider the order I was about to give. “I am grateful that you arrived at exactly that moment.”

She’s quiet again, but this time it’s contemplative, so I wait.

Eventually, she says, “But … you were pissed off before. You were being such a jerk on the way to Silvermoon.”

“Ah.” I frown. “I was struggling with thoughts of betrayal.”

“Betrayal.” Her voice is hollow. “Like … with Chesleigh?”

“What?” I turn my head again. A cold breeze rushes across the fields, making her shiver at my back. “Betrayal with Chesleigh? I do not understand.”

She ducks her head. “Never mind. What kind of betrayal?”

“Lilith came to you.”

She freezes. I can feel the shock reverberate through her body. “Dustan told you.”

“He is my guard commander. Of course he told me.”

She straightens, her head lifting from my shoulder. “I should have known.” She raises her voice. “Hey, Dustan. Maybe you should—”

“Harper.” I keep my voice low, placating. “You once asked me not to fault those close to you for their loyalty.”

She clamps her mouth shut, then sighs. “Ugh. Fine.” She pauses. “He didn’t have to lie about it.”

“Neither did you.”

She says nothing to that.

“Did Lilith harm you?” I say.

“Nothing that left a mark.” She takes a deep breath. “She’s awful, Rhen.”

“I know.” I pause. “Did you not think I would be able to bear such news?”

“If I don’t want to be your pawn, I don’t want to be hers, either.” She hesitates. “I’m not going to let her use me against you.”

“Yet she sowed discord anyway.” I sigh bitterly. “It is her gift.”

Harper says nothing to that. We ride in silence for the longest time, until Ironwill grows antsy and I draw up the reins.

“Thank you,” Harper says then, and any ire in her voice is gone. “For pulling me out of the crowd.” She shivers. “You looked like you were going to level the courtyard.”

I cluck to the horse, and he leaps forward into a gallop, eager. Harper clings tightly to my back. “For you, my lady, I would have leveled the entire city.”