Curse of Shadows and Thorns: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 1)

Legion was dressed in a fine suitcoat, straight-backed as though nothing happened just yesterday. His expression mute, but for the brief hint of light in his eyes. Mavie and Siv didn’t wait for an invitation to enter the room, but then, they didn’t need one. Tor remained somber and silent, assessing the whole of the room in one sweep of his eyes. Even the sight of him (though, I knew so little) brought a breath of relief.

My fingers twitched. I wanted to leap into the arms of everyone in the doorway. Would Tor accept an embrace, or would his knees buckle, and his hackles rise in disgust? Now wasn’t the moment to find out.

Looking at Legion, the elation in my chest pierced me, swift and sharp. I fought the urge to touch him by clenching my fists at my side.

Jarl hesitated for nothing. “Herr Grey, you’ve returned. I have a great many things to discuss with you about the security of Kvinna Lysander and would—”

“Elise,” Legion interrupted. “Walk with me.”

His voice was clipped, but gentle. It left little room for refusal.

Jarl stepped next to me. “Is she well enough?”

He didn’t ask me. In fact, spoke as if I were not standing there. Legion raised his dark brows. “I suppose you might ask her, but if she is not, it’s rather inconsiderate of you to keep her on her feet, isn’t it?”

Jarl flushed and bowed his head with a taut jaw.

“I’m well enough to walk,” I said, going to Legion’s side.

“We’ll see Herr Magnus out,” Mavie whispered.

I simply nodded, uninterested how or when Jarl found his way to his coach. Legion offered his arm, so I stood close to his side as we climbed the stairs to my chambers. Tor followed at our backs, his stern gaze bolting side to side as though another attack was imminent.

“You walk so steady,” I said, embarrassed how I kept a slow step with the shallow wound in my hip.

“I wasn’t stuck badly.”

“The amount of blood would beg to differ.”

“I assure you it looked worse than it was,” he said, glancing at me sideways. “Your uncle sent several declarations, and seems to wish I turn my attentions from negotiations to hunting Agitators.”

I shook my head. “If you were unharmed. why did Siv go with you?”

“Your maid is knowledgeable about the upper cliffs. I understand she once lived there, so she offered her services to provide insight where clans might be hiding.”

“Ah,” I said, envious for a moment he had learned something about Siv’s past I didn’t know. I shook the envy away and tightened my grip on his arm. Hunting. Killing. It all spun my head. “I need to speak with you. Out of the open.”

Legion looked surprised but gestured at the door to the sitting room in my chamber. “Tor, keep an eye out, would you?”

“Always.” Tor positioned himself at the doorjamb like a sentinel at a gate.

Legion led me into the open chamber. Tor closed the door at our backs and the rest of the world was cut off. Warmth from the stove brought a sense of home, and woodsmoke in the air chased away the numbness I’d had since yesterday. I turned to the window. How was I to do this? To speak of what happened? Had Legion ever killed a person? Did he remember what I did, or think there must’ve been another option, another way?

My hands trembled. My body swayed, unsteady.

A touch went to my hair, so gentle it might be mistaken for the breeze. “Elise . . .”

Such a simple word, but my name from his lips, after what had taken place, had power to break down every wall, every hint of propriety. All the worries of the night, of him, burst to the surface as I whipped around, my body to his.

I trapped Legion’s face between my palms, breaths heavy. “I thought . . . I didn’t know what happened to you.”

If he’d been surprised by my reaction, or the way my fingers teased his hair, Legion let it fade immediately. The calluses of his hand were rough on my cheek as he cupped one side, his thumb brushing away a tear. “You cannot be rid of me so easily, Kvinna.”

I didn’t want to be rid of him. Embarrassed at my boldness, I let my hands fall away from him and clasped them in front of my body. “Where were you?”

Legion’s palm traveled down my shoulder, my arm, until he too released his hold on me. “We needed to learn what we could of the Agitators. Kvin Lysander and the king wanted to waste no time.”

“And did you?” I asked. “Find the Agitators, I mean.”

He looked away and I had my answer. Anger carved his features as he nodded. “I can’t take credit, Castle Ravenspire found the crew before us. We simply saw what was left of them.”

I winced. “Jarl said he’d sent trackers.”

“They succeeded. This morning three men were taken to the stocks in town. They’re to be executed at Castle Ravenspire.”

I closed my eyes. As insignificant as I was to King Zyben, my uncle would shoot fear into the hearts of the people for any attack on his bloodline. The Agitators were brutal, cruel, they were villains in my life, but still, a discomfort spread in my stomach at the thought of more blood and bone spilling.

“I have done my share of killing, Elise,” Legion said after a pause. “I’ve known blood, but the Agitator camp the patrols raided was filled with families. Don’t mistake me, when I saw the Agitator attack you, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so angry, so filled with bloodlust. I surprised even myself. But after seeing the carnage left behind this morning, sometimes I’m not sure who is in the right and who is the monster.”

“Me!” A sob broke free. “I am a monster. I murdered the Agitator, and I wanted to. You say you felt bloodlust, but I acted upon it.” My breaths came too rapid, too jagged. “How am I better than the Ravenspire patrols? I wanted that man to die, so I made sure he did.”

Before I could say another word, Legion had his arms around me, my face curled into his chest. Tears stained onto the softness of his jacket.

“Elise, stop,” he commanded. “You are not a murderer. Without you, I might not be standing now. The bloodlust you think you had, was nothing more than instinct. I assure you—I have seen, have embraced bloodlust. You defended the both of us. Nothing more.”

“I see it,” I said against his chest. “When I close my eyes, I see his face, see the blood, see him take his last breath.”

Legion tightened his hold around me. “To kill another is not something anyone soon forgets. I wish what happened had not, but do you think less of Halvar?”

“Halvar?”

“Yes. He killed the man who attacked you. Do you view Halvar as a murderer?”

Truth be told, I’d forgotten Halvar had shot the Agitator who’d taken me. All I saw was my fatal blow that killed the Agitator slowly.

“No,” I said at last. “No, I don’t think Halvar is a murderer. He saved me.”

Legion stepped back and I wished at once his arms were around me again. “I hope you never have to kill again, but in New Timoran, the land is made of blood. You are a royal—there will come another time you may need to defend yourself. I have made a vow to defend you, but I must know you will also protect yourself. At all costs. Promise me.”

Worry was in his voice, and it was strange, maybe a little exciting. I lifted the hem of my skirt to show the knife sheathed to my shinbone. “I’ll defend myself and anyone I care about.”

“Good.” He reached a hand inside his jacket. “And you should also have these.”

On the table, Legion placed two thin books. Old, battered leather held the rough parchment in place.

“What are these?”

A crooked smile teased his mouth. “As promised. Old Ettan journals. One of strategy, the other I thought you might enjoy—Queen Lilianna’s before the raid.”

My mouth parted and traced the spines of the journals with a degree of reverence. “The Ettan queen?”

Legion nodded, notably pleased with my response.

“How . . . how did you ever come by these?”

He sighed and gently opened the one of war. “Not everyone who barters recognizes when they hold treasure in their hands. I still feel rather guilty. The cost of these totaled to a sack of bread and a half dozen silver shim. Poor bastard—I practically robbed him.”

I chuckled and nodded. “Yes, I’d have to agree. I couldn’t possibly—”

“I want you to take them,” he said. “You can read old Ettan, can’t you?”

I nodded. “I read it better than speak it.”

“Good. Tor does not find my interest in history as amusing. In truth, I’ve felt connected to these journals and reread them more times than I can count. I’ve been looking forward to sharing them with another fool who reads too much. But I do intend to discuss them, for I have many opinions.”

My insides soared until I was certain my feet lifted. “I shall talk your ears off, no doubt, Herr Grey.”

“That is all I ask.”

The door opened and Runa appeared with a lanky woman, the household healer. Wild hair like dry grass, teeth that jutted over her lower lip, but the woman could draw away pain like her touch held a bit of fury magic. I snatched the journals and held them behind my back.

“Pardon, but Kvinna Elise needs her dressing changed,” Runa said with all the regality of a future queen. She didn’t address Legion. In my sister’s mind everyone ought to know they were being addressed without Runa needing to condescend and explain it.

Legion offered a slight bow to my sister, but his eyes never abandoned me. “I’ll leave you, then.”

“Yes,” Runa said. “Kvin Lysander wishes to see you anyway.”

Legion nodded his head once more, then left me with a searing glance that said too much and nothing all at once, before disappearing behind the door.

Later, when the healer had finished with me, when I’d endured a dull meal with my mother and sister, talking only of her upcoming vows with a repulsive prince, I hid away in my room with a queen I’d never met.

The first pages were worn the most. Lilianna’s hand was gentle, neat, with delicate curves to her writing.

Arvad ascended the throne. Two days since his mother’s funeral pyre and he wears the burden of the crown. He is a beacon of strength to our people. He will be remarkable. But how my heart burns for him when in the dimness of our bed he confesses his fears, his worries, to no one but me. The greatest lot in my life is being a strength, a confidant, a lover and helpmeet for an imperfect, magnificent king.

I beamed at the pages. Love.

So be it. I’d been wrong. The former king and queen of Etta had a great deal of love for each other. I’d be envious, but I reveled in her writing too much to even find a spark of jealousy.

The night was too cold for the season. North winds whipped over the shore, stirring the black sand around my feet. Air, heady with brine, burned the back of my throat. The chill went into my blood, so I wrapped the borrowed woolen jacket tighter around my shoulders.

Only the lap of the water against the docks broke the silence. A silence that raised the hair on the back of my neck. Most nights, even in the early hours of the morning, folk out drinking, gambling, and visiting brothels could be heard. Tonight, it was only me and the shadows.

I scanned the docks for the skiff. With such little light, I nearly missed it tied to a narrow dock five down. My brow furrowed when I found the boat empty. I hadn’t arrived all that early, and I expected the others who’d paid to go around the cove would be there.

A shudder raced up my arms. I hugged my body and abandoned the dock to seek out the others.

The first step off the dock, my boot splashed in something hot, something sticky. My gaze drifted to the dark sand. I screamed and stumbled back, falling into a thick puddle. Heart racing, I staggered to my feet, hands coated in the dark, tangy scent.

Blood. It soaked the shore, bleeding up from the tide pools, from the docks. Rivers and rivers of blood surrounded me on all sides.

I tried to run. My feet wouldn’t move.

Footsteps crunched over sand and shells and pebbles. I froze. The night stilled until I felt I could reach out and coil the tension around my fingers. The eyes of someone else pricked across my skin. Finding the will to lift my feet, I darted the way of the trees, but my bumbling steps would not take me far. A hand wrapped around my arm and wrenched me back.

I think I screamed, my throat was raw, but I didn’t hear a thing over the blood pulsing in my skull.

Above me the red of his eyes glowed from beneath a black hood. The red mask covered his mouth, but the black, elongated fingernails—claws were more like it—dragged the cloth off his lips, his snarl revealed the whites of fangs. Wolvyn, or some mix of man and beast.

The Blood Wraith raised one of his cursed battle axes, his gaze filled with nothing but bloodlust and murder.

But when I looked again, the darkness of his face brightened, and my own countenance sneered back at me. Blood stained my hands. A wild frenzy lived in my eyes. A monster.

I didn’t scream again before the axe held by my vicious doppelganger fell.

With a jolt, I snapped up in bed. My shoulders heaved in short, stilted gasps. Sweat pasted my hair to my brow, and my skin tingled like tiny flames danced across my body. How real the nightmare had been—I’d felt the Wraith’s breath on my skin, seen the hate in his bloody eyes. Until it changed and the hate came from me.

I scrubbed my arms as if I could brush the feeling away.

My cheeks were wet with tears, throat raw. Bleeding hells, I hoped I hadn’t screamed. Sometimes when the nightmares came, I woke the entire household, and they always brought too many questions.

A breeze came in from the crack in my window and I hurried to bolt the latch. Stars were quilted in the sky tonight. Those were real, not the empty pitch in my dream, I reminded myself. There weren’t rivers of blood on the sand. I’d never made it to the shore, I’d been cornered in the forest, laughter and lanterns at the docks in my sights when the Wraith swung his blade. Truth be told, I’m not sure he even saw me, more like he attacked out of habit and my fingers simply got in the way.

But when blood spilled, he’d paused. I closed my eyes against the memory of the Wraith sniffing the air. Only then did he seem aware I’d survived, that he wasn’t alone in the wood. I’d been helpless to move as he’d prowled like some creature made of shadows and blood.

A second shudder ran up my arms and I shook my head. No sense wondering what might have happened if the Guild of Shade hadn’t dragged their Wraith back into the night. I survived.

A linen robe draped over one of the upholstered chairs near my bed. I dressed in it, discomposed by the way shadows filled the corners and crevices of my room. Childish perhaps, but I didn’t want to stay in the room. At least not until my pulse slowed. I wouldn’t sleep anyway.

Securing the belt of my robe, I left my room for the small sitting chamber. The space wasn’t terribly grand, a few chairs, an ottoman covered in furs, and a bookshelf near the heating stove. Near the window, a tallow candle flickered golden light, and a grin broke over my mouth.

Legion, head propped on his fist, slept with a dagger across his lap.

In the light, his toasted brown skin looked more bronze, and his damp hair crossed his forehead, darker than the normal gold. For a moment I simply studied him. Dressed in a loose tunic, dark trousers, and sturdy leather boots, he looked more like a Ravenspire patrol than a tradesman.

It suited him.

But why was he here? I’d been too amused at the peace of his sleeping face I hadn’t taken the time to wonder why he’d take up a spot in a small chair rather than enjoy his own bed.

I crossed the room and took a woven quilt from the back of a chaise. Perhaps I was more confident in my slyness than was true because as I laid out the quilt over Legion’s body, he stirred. With a start he bolted from his chair, the dagger clattered on the floor, and he reached for me.

“Elise,” he said, voice rough. “Are you . . . What are you doing awake?”

His grip curled around my palm; his skin chased away the last of my chill with its warmth. I returned the hold, lacing one or two fingers with his.

“I might ask you why you’re in my chambers instead of in your own.”

Legion cleared his throat. He didn’t seem to notice—or mind—his hand was in mine. “I . . . I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”

My insides backflipped. “You go above your duty, Herr.”

“Duty does not drive me in this, Kvinna.” His gaze dropped to our hands and a rush of . . . something . . . heated my cheeks when he didn’t let go. “After the raid on the camp this morning, Agitators took a manor near Mellanstrad. A noble house. They’re growing bolder, and I’d rather not risk you to them.”

“No one mentioned anything . . .” I paused. “Would you have told me about the attack if I’d not found you?”

Legion would not be the first man to keep a woman in the dark in the Lysander household. I hardly knew anything about what my father did on the days he felt well enough to leave his chambers, and even if he married the higher rank, my mother knew even less than me. Perhaps it was how she preferred things.

“I’m not afraid to tell you hard things, Elise,” Legion said. “But I didn’t see a need yet.” He released my hand and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you awake, anyway?”

I fiddled with the belt of my robe and took a seat on the fur-covered chaise. “A nightmare, and like a bleeding child I didn’t want to be in my dark room alone. I came out here to calm my nerves.”

Legion scrutinized me for a long moment before he sat beside me, our shoulders touching. “I know a bit about the Marish demons and have been told if you invite them to the morning meal, they will not haunt you any longer.”

I smiled but shook my head. “No fae demon cursed me tonight. The nightmare was a memory.”

“A memory?” Legion squared his body to mine. “The Agitator?”

“No,” I said, voice dry and hoarse. I’d never told anyone outside my family about the Blood Wraith, but now it was as if I needed to bite my tongue to hold back. Then I considered—why was I holding back? Already Legion Grey had proven a man of his word; he’d kept my secrets, weighed my desires. In truth, he seemed as disquieted about the betrothal negotiations as me. After everything, how would the tale of the Blood Wraith turn him away?

“I’m intrigued,” he said when I went quiet. “You hesitate, and my curiosity has gotten the better of me. What frightens you into silence, Elise?”

My eyes lifted. I rubbed the missing tips of my fingers as if warmth might grow them again. Never one to point out the strange shape of my left hand, I was surprised when I lifted it and spread my fingers. “You asked once how I lost my fingertips.”

If Legion had curiosity before, now he was wholly captivated. “What happened?”

“Some believe I mistook what happened and replaced it with a tale, so I don’t speak of it often. Only my family knows, and I honestly don’t know if they believe me.”

Legion tipped his head, no smirk or grin or jest to be found in his expression. “I will believe you.”

“Why?” I took his hand between mine. “Why do you say those things? Why are you so . . . kind to me? I should be a charge to you, a woman you must chaperone and assess, yet you treat me—”

“Treat you how?” he interrupted, his thumb drawing small circles on mine. “Like someone, instead of something?”

“Yes!” I said, strained. “No one but for serfs and a carpenter see past my title. Negotiators care little for the noble women they match. They care more for the prestige and shim the winning bidder gives them. Yet, you sit here with me because of a nightmare. You spar with me. You read with me. Why?”

Legion looked unsettled. He pulled back, faced forward, his mouth tight for too many breaths. “You were unexpected. Instead of a spoiled, arrogant princess, I was given you. Someone bold and daring and kind. What you have been dealt is . . . wrong. When these fools who come to me with coin, and promises, and threats, all for your hand, I see them as a strange kind of enemy. Forgive me, but it’s the truth on how I feel.”

I hardly believed he was saying these things, and that each word seemed true, almost as if Legion tried to fight them but simply couldn’t. I bit my unease into my bottom lip. “You are unusual, Legion Grey.” I smiled softly. “But against all my good senses, I trust you.”

His body relaxed and the sly grin overtook his discomfort. “A poor choice, Kvinna.”

I chuckled and stared at my fingertips. He’d been forthcoming, so could I. “My fingers, the cause of my recurring nightmares—” I took a long breath. “Nearly two turns ago, I bought passage on a skiff ride around the cove. I’d never sailed, and I couldn’t resist. I snuck out when the moon was highest, but before I could even reach the water . . . I was ambushed.”

Legion’s brow wrinkled. “Ambushed? By whom?”

All gods, please believe me. I don’t know how I would react should he stare at me like I were a lunatic. “The Blood Wraith. He came from the shadows—there before I even knew it, and he struck at me. I’ve never seen eyes like his. Red, drained of humanity. I saw beneath his red mask and knew I’d die. No one ever sees behind the Wraith’s mask and lives. And I would have fallen by his blade if the Guild of Shade had not pulled him back. I know they’re said to be as ruthless, but only the Norns know why, they saved me.”

It took a moment for me to look at Legion. Fear of his reaction more potent than anything. When my eyes found his in the dim light, he looked horrified. His fists clenched over his knees and his shoulders rose in sharp breaths.

“I know some believe he’s a myth, but I saw him. The same as I saw him the other night.”

“I believe you,” he said in a rasp. “As I said I would.” Legion’s eyes fluttered and he cleared his throat, his body less stiff. “You are very lucky to be alive, Elise.”

At that, he took my hand and kissed the ends of my missing fingertips, his eyes rolling up to meet mine.

A new sensation took hold in my body. The feeling of falling and spinning and drowning all at once. The heat of desire and need was raw, sharp, and heady as new wine. Legion’s mouth on my skin sent my pulse racing like it would never stop, and truth be told, I didn’t want it to.

I liked Legion Grey. He had, in fact, made me like him better than I’d ever liked anyone.