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

Iscreamed her name, tears on my face. Hands peeled me away from her. No! I couldn’t leave her. I refused. She needed help. Needed healing. I fought as arms embraced me. My fists swung. I wanted to lash out, strike anything. Kill everything.

The arms tightened. My head fell to a chest. I breathed in a shuddering gasp. Rain and spice. Legion had me in his arms, keeping me still, the beat of his heart a ballast in the agony. His hand rested on the back of my head.

I trembled and wrapped my arms around his waist.

No one said anything for a few moments. Mavie was gone and it was too cruel a truth to accept. Too wretched to understand.

“We must keep going,” Tor’s voice broke through the heavy cloud settling in my chest. “They’re coming.”

Legion’s arms tightened around me. “Elise, we can’t stay here.”

Like a spark of a flame, anger latched in my heart. The one who’d killed her was kept from me by a mere wall. I wrenched out of Legion’s arms, knife in hand, and turned the corner. Only a man, sprawled out on the floor, Legion’s knife in his heart, remained.

“You killed him,” I muttered, grateful and disappointed all at once. This time, the thought of killing didn’t frighten me. I’d wanted to be the one to end the man responsible for taking Mavie’s goodness from this bleeding kingdom.

“You drew blood,” Halvar said, a panic in his voice. “The night is—”

“I do not need reminding!” Legion returned, a coarseness to his voice, a temper that was almost frightening.

“Go,” Tor suddenly snapped. “Go now. We cannot wait any longer.”

In my head, I knew it. If we did not want to meet the same fate as Mavie, we needed to move. The thought of abandoning her here burned like a thousand knives. My feet moved me away, but a piece of my heart would always remain there in the hall of Castle Ravenspire.

“The swiftest route is through the banquet hall,” Legion said. He entered the space where Mavie’s murderer lay dead and retrieved his knife, pausing for a moment to inspect the blood on the blade before he cleaned the edge on the dead man’s chest.

I was as ice. Cold and hardened. I hardly heard his instruction, simply followed. Still in Halvar’s grip, Siv cried silent tears. She looked at me, searching, perhaps, for a bit of comfort. I gave her nothing. She’d lied and tricked both Mavie and me. Siv didn’t lose a friend tonight. In my mind, she could not claim the word.

We crept down the corridor, leery of windows, and shadows. Legion rounded into a narrow passageway, and I recognized the spot as the entrance to the king’s throne room. Light spilled from the open doorway, and a voice rose in cries, chants, and cheers. Legion held up a fist and peered into the doorway. I leaned around him, gaining a sliver of sight in the room.

The throne room was packed with darkly dressed people, armed in blades and bows. The insurrectionists. But among them were a spattering of Ravenspire guards. Their blue cloaks with gold threads bright in the sea of pitch. Why did the guards stand among their enemies?

My eyes lifted to the dais with the king and queen’s seats. My hands went numb. Calder stood at the front, Zyben’s bloody circlet of briars on his brow. But there at his side stood Runa. She had a silver tiara atop her head and the queen’s gilded cloak on her shoulders.

Three hells! Kneeled before them were my parents and Queen Annika. The guards . . . pointed their weapons at them!

Legion tugged me back, out of sight. Though I couldn’t see, each word spoken in the room sank into me. Memories never to be forgotten.

“Dear Annika,” Calder said, mockingly. “Pledge, like Mara. Surely your husband’s sister is enough to give you confidence. Pledge your fealty and you will live.”

I curled against Legion. For comfort through what I knew would come, but in a way, I needed him to keep me from barging into the room, screaming, fighting, and no mistake, dying. My mother pledged loyalty to Calder, naturally. With Zyben dead, he was the heir apparent. But why did the queen resist? A better question—why had the attackers crowded around the new king?

Annika’s cutting voice rose above the murmurs in the crowd. “Death to traitors,” she seethed. “You sent the attack at the hunt.”

“Well, we couldn’t have tonight simply come out of nowhere,” Calder replied with a laugh. “Alas, my queen and I have found our families difficult to kill.”

Runa snickered. “Yes, I thought for sure at least my father would go when we allowed the cursed ones onto Lysander land.”

I coughed against Legion’s body and clapped a hand to my mouth. Runa had breached our gates. The cursed ones? All I saw was the black in their eyes, their mouths. Did my sister use the Blood Wraith, too? I’d been right, though, something had been wrong with those men and women that night.

“You kill your father, steal the throne,” Annika went on. “You are no king. You are a coward!”

I gasped, and now Legion’s hand covered my mouth.

Calder laughed. “Strong words, Annika. But they mean nothing since you are there, on your knees, and I am . . . here. Last chance.”

Annika was not kind. She was brutal like her husband had been. But she did not falter. “I will never bow to false kings and the whore who dares call herself a queen.”

It happened almost instantly. The slice of a blade, the thud of a body hitting the floor. Calder sighed dramatically. “Well, now we have that done with. Well fought, my people!”

The crowd roared.

“Hells,” I muttered. Calder—he’d called the siege. He’d—no, he and Runa—they’d taken the throne by force. Those moments of Runa’s wicked passion about change and new order, of her disappointment when I did not comply. Her lack of respect for Annika, her disinterest in Zyben. She’d been plotting this all along.

“The last loose end will be to find Queen Runa’s wayward sister.”

“She is not loyal.”

My heart shuddered hearing my sister’s voice mark me for death, the same as Annika.

“Be that as it were,” Calder said. “We find Elise, find anyone who has yet to pick their lot in this new era.”

His band of killers grunted and shouted their approval.

I was dragged away in a flurry. Legion’s grip tightened on my wrist, and he hurried me behind Tor and Halvar with Siv into the banquet hall. I was a fugitive amongst my own family. My sister’s hatred left a brand on my soul. I knew she did not think much of me; but to spew such venom, to want to be rid of me? It unlocked a poisonous anger of my own, a pain that dissolved any love once had between sisters.

Another death in this bloody night.

A stairwell was built into the wall just before the banquet room. Tor wrenched it open, waving us inside. We’d escape through the kitchens. Thieves in the night. And then? Where would we go? When the crown wanted you for its own, where could anyone hide?

At the first step, Legion doubled over. His eyes clenched and he pounded a fist against the wall.

“Legion.” My hands went to him. His body was hot to the touch.

“I’m fine, go,” he grunted as he straightened. Beads of sweat coated his brow.

“Where are you hit?” I asked. Hells, I refused to lose anyone else tonight.

“I’m not,” he insisted. “I’m fine.”

“Elise, in the kitchens is something we can use to help,” Halvar explained.

My next thought recalled those days after Legion’s ailment. His red, haggard eyes. His pale skin. Cursed gods. Now was not the time for our strongest to fall ill by a damn disease!

I braced my hands on his back on the remaining stairs. His steps more rigid, his fists clenched. The veins in his hands and neck bulged with too much blood. I fought the urge to beg his assurance he was all right; speaking seemed more effort for him by the time we slammed, one after another, into the wide, stone-walled kitchens.

No death here, no tang of blood, only steam in stew pots, savory bread, honey icing, and . . .

“Bevan?”

The old steward wheeled around from a syrup he boiled on the open flame. His eyes were black as midnight, and there was a strangeness on his expression. One of power, not submission, and he didn’t look to me long. His eyes flashed to Legion who breathed heavily, leaning against the wall.

“You drew blood!” Bevan shouted. He stormed to Legion and—hells—the old man smacked the back of Legion Grey’s head. “You bleeding fool. Not enough time has passed since the last incident, so it will be much worse.”

“Careful old man,” Legion said in a kind of growl. Then, he blinked, and his voice softened. “Hardly avoidable when the bleeding castle is under attack.”

“No need for you to fear a blade,” Bevan retorted. “You could’ve let them strike you.”

Legion’s jaw tightened. “But it was not me on the line.”

His red, glassy eyes lifted to me. Bevan seemed to remember I was there and softened his face at once. He reached a knobby hand for mine. “Kvinna, are you harmed?”

I was wordless for too long. My eyes darted between my old steward and Legion—two men who seemed to know each other a great deal more than I thought. “I . . . I’m fine, but Mavie . . .” I couldn’t finish.

Bevan winced, understanding, and tapped his head. “May the Otherworld embrace you.”

The prayer of the dead did nothing to ease the blow, more drove the agony deeper knowing she needed the prayer to begin with.

“Bevan!” Tor shouted. “Do you have the elixir or not?”

The old steward snapped into action and gathered the syrup concoction from the stove. “It’s just finished brewing, but it will likely only hold through the night. He’ll need to take another dose in the morning and the next day to return him back to the normal cycle.”

“Fine,” Tor said with a bit of exasperation. “Just hurry.”

Legion groaned and dug the heel of his hand into his forehead. I hurried to his side. Confused as I was, I hated seeing him in pain. Legion tried to turn from me, but I slipped my hand in his and he squeezed through the next moan.

Bevan poured the pungent syrup into a waterskin, then looked at me. “Elise, you calm him.”

“What is this ailment? I’ve never seen such a thing.”

“No one has,” Bevan said softly and held the skin beneath Legion’s nose. Legion swatted at the concoction, snarling.

He was losing himself in agony. He couldn’t think straight. I reached for his face. Legion’s eyes pooled blood red, his skin drenched in sweat. I blinked through the tears. Watching his body attack him was terrifying and heartbreaking.

I stroked his hot, damp cheek, voice low and calm. “Legion, this will help. Take it.”

I didn’t know if the concoction would improve him. Bleeding hells, I didn’t know what this sickness was, but Tor and Halvar seemed to believe this smelly potion would help. Bevan, too. Legion clenched his eyes, pressed a fist to his head again, but shot out a hand for the waterskin. Bevan handed him the elixir and watched, ensuring Legion swallowed at least three times.

“That’ll be good,” Bevan said and took it away. “Two more doses. Do not skip them.”

Already, Legion’s breathing slowed. His eyes were clearer, and he was able to stand straight again. I kept one arm around his waist and beamed at the old steward. “Bevan, I never knew you to be such a healer.”

His face contorted and he lowered his gaze. “I’m not a healer, Elise. I’m what is called an Elixist.”

“I’ve never heard the term.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Not here. It is what folk in the Eastern Kingdom call those who can make otherworldly things with alchemy and potions and spells.”

My jaw dropped. “You have fury?”

“Mesmer is what we call it in the East, but our magic is from the body, not the earth. I am what is called an Alver, my Kind is an Elixist. There are different Kinds of Alvers in the East, and I suppose you could say we’re cousins of Night Folk. Each kingdom calls us what they wish: fae, sorcerer, Alver, demon. And each kingdom finds ways to abuse us all.”

Bevan had . . . fury. Or mesmer, or whatever he’d called it. I would have a thousand questions later, no doubt, but for now I could simply be grateful he healed Legion.

“Bevan has been spoon feeding me for turns,” Legion said gruffly.

“Why did you not say you knew each other?”

“There isn’t time to explain, Elise,” Bevan said. “You must leave now. They will come for you. Already, Captain Magnus has been here seeking you out.”

“Jarl!” My eyes widened. “He’s on Calder’s side?” They didn’t need to tell me. I was a fool, thinking Jarl wanted change, the same as me, when really, he’d been plotting a coup with my sister. “Three hells, he told me he wanted to use fury for the sake of Timoran. I think they’re going to turn Night Folk into slaves.”

“More like experiments,” Bevan said. “They will hunt them across the kingdoms. In the east, Alvers are already traded and bartered. With the strength of new Timoran and the fury in this soil, it will grow tenfold. The south accepts fae and mystics, but they will close their walls, defend their folk. Nowhere will be safe, and Timoran will be an unshakeable force. They may well turn their raids to other kingdoms. How many will die, Elise?”

Bevan’s voice choked off. He shook his head. “I’ve seen war. I fled my own kingdom, sought refuge here with my brother’s family, lived the life of an Ettan, simply to stay out of sight. But I’ve seen enough to know peace is possible, my girl. If the true leaders of this land could unite all the powers, be it spell casting, fury, or mesmer, then lives could be saved, and the power of every land would flourish.”

“True leaders?”

A rumble in a nearby corridor silenced us. Legion drew his dagger, Halvar raised the crossbow. Even Siv went for the blade that was no longer there.

“Bevan,” Legion said. “We can’t wait any longer.”

The old steward bounced his gaze between us. “These things take time, there must be choice. She must be willing and loyal. As you must be.”

Legion’s jaw pulsed. His clear, dark eyes found me, and my heart fluttered. “I cannot speak for Elise, but for me—I am ready.”

“Ready for what?” I reached for Legion’s hand, needing balance in this chaos. He took it and held fast.

“Elise,” Bevan said. “Do you believe in fate?”

“Yes,” I said cautiously.

“Then, trust that fate has a part to play in all this. You have a desire to heal this land, but you may also heal another. I knew the moment we first met you could be the one to help Legion.”

“Help Legion? How?”

“It can’t be said, it must be shown, and now is not the time or place. You must get somewhere safe, and you must choose him. Choose to leave down this path with him.”

“Bevan, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I glanced over my shoulder at Legion. His gaze was on the ground. “I would gladly help him be free of this ailment; is that what you’re asking? But I don’t have fury or . . . mesmer. How can I help?”

“By choosing him. That is the first step. By trusting him and offering your loyalty. The rest will come the more you know.”

“The choice is yours,” Legion muttered. “You do not know everything about me, Elise. But I swear to you, what you have seen has been sincere.”

This was strange. Pressure gathered in my chest. What secrets did Legion Grey keep? Would I regret trusting him once I discovered them? Possibly, but the trouble was, I did trust him. I cared for him. Deeply. He’d saved me, empowered me. He showed me what true passion and what love could be. In time, secrets could come forward and we could weather them.

I swallowed with effort and tightened my hold on Legion’s hand but spoke to Bevan. “I will do anything I can to help him.”

Bevan nodded and dug into a cupboard in the corner. He removed a satchel, stuffed with what I assumed might be supplies. Then, took out another vial of a murky sort of liquid. He tossed the satchels at the men. Legion met my eye, a look of trepidation in his expression, but he led me to the center of the kitchen.

“This will bind you to him,” Bevan explained. “His strength will be yours; you will not be harmed so long as he’s breathing. The bond of loyalty will last through the night.”

“Why just through the night?” I was certain, for all he’d done, I would be loyal to Legion Grey until I took my last breath.

Legion answered instead. “It is to ensure your safety as we travel. My strength is yours.”

“Yes, but if you’re harmed—”

“Elise,” he said, as though embarrassed. “I cannot be harmed. I cannot die. Nor can Tor or Halvar. We will not bond with the Agitator because we do not trust her, and this only works with trust.”

Siv lowered her gaze to the ground.

“What do you mean you can’t die?” My voice was shriller than before.

Shouting in the corridors caused us all to jump. Bevan took my hand, his slate eyes desperate. “Time runs out, Kvinna. Make your choice.”

The hair raised on the back of my neck. I spared a glance at Siv. She wouldn’t look at me. I didn’t blame her for not speaking, doubtless she knew none of us would listen. Not after she’d lost our trust so brutally.

Back to Legion, I nodded, but felt more confused than before.

“Take his hand,” Bevan instructed.

He passed the vial to Legion who tipped the potion in his mouth. He winced but handed it to me. I followed suit. The taste was harsh. Like peppered spices and vinegar, but I managed to choke down the entire swallow. In the pit of my stomach something warm spread, heating fiercely between my palm and Legion’s.

Bevan patted our joined hands. “It must be sealed with a vow.”

Legion nodded and cleared his throat. “Elise Lysander. For this night I bind myself, my loyalty, and my protection to you.”

My forearm prickled as the power from the potion traveled to my heart. Bevan gave me an encouraging nod.

“Legion Grey, I . . . bind myself and my loyalty to you until the sunrise.”

I drew in a swift gasp when the heat bloomed over my skin. An unquenchable desire to follow Legion overwhelmed me, as if stepping too far from him would cause sickening anguish.

“It’s done. Now get out of here before you’re seen.” Bevan rested a hand on Legion’s shoulder, a sad smile curled over his lips. “This will be the end of it. I feel it in these old bones.”

Legion gave a curt nod, but then looked to me. “We will travel off the roads, Elise. Where we are accustomed, but it isn’t easy terrain. Stay close to us and we’ll take you to a place that is safe.”

I hugged my middle as Legion, Halvar, and Tor dug into their satchels. Siv slumped against the wall, a look of fright on her face. She feared whatever was to become of her, and a pang of sympathy pierced my heart. She’d lied, but as she accused Legion of nefarious intentions, Siv had plenty of opportunity to harm me, yet didn’t.

I faced Legion again. He’d slipped a cowl over his shoulders, and a black hood shrouded his head.

“Elise,” Legion said, voice rough. He took my hand. “With what comes next, remember what I told you. I meant every word.”

My stomach tightened. Foreboding took hold as Legion released me and gathered something from his satchel. He rose from his haunches, red fabric in his hands. His dark eyes narrowed, but there was pleading in them. Legion took the red fabric and used it to mask the lower half of his face.

A red mask that looked . . .

The truth came like a rod to the skull, a slice at the gut. I fumbled back as Legion took the final piece of his puzzle from Bevan. My sweet, Bevan. He held out the two black axes, at ease, as though they were sacred and not deadly.

Weapons cursed by the hells. Weapons I knew too well.

I stumbled to the ground.

Bevan caught me around my waist and told me to hush.

Legion Grey had disappeared, and in his place stood the man of my nightmares.

Legion was the Blood Wraith.