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

Sofia kept staring blankly out the window at the sheets of rain splattering against the bubbled glass.

“She won’t eat,” Rune whispered. His wound was healing, and the light of dawn brought a new brightness to his eyes.

Two days in the Court of Blood had offered desperate healing, few answers, and a horrid solution to a deadly problem I wasn’t ready to face.

Still, I could wait no longer. I needed to know the truth of everything.

I sat beside the bed and held out a tin of a cedar tea brewed from the steaming water in the hot springs. Gorm insisted it was a remedy that would cure the worst aches.

I needed Sofia clear now. “You mourn, but so do we all. I do not wish to sound callous, but the time has come for you to tell me how you became connected to Davorin. More lives will be lost if you stay numb.”

Sofia turned her head. Her eyes were swollen and red from a constant flow of silent tears. She was hollow. I could not explain it any other way.

A void had been carved through her, and I did not know if I could bring her back.

“I loved him.” Her voice was dry as rotted bark.

“I know,” I whispered. “I know you did.”

“His blood is on my hands.” She held up her slender fingers. “You can still see it. I do not deserve to wake.”

I let out a long breath. “Sofia, if anyone understands the power of Davorin it is me, it is Rune. Bracken’s death is on Davorin’s hands. If you wish to avenge Bracken, then I must know how he took your heart.”

Sofia wiped at her eyes. “It happened during the Battle of the East. I was dying, Saga. Hodag trapped me in the burrow. I should not have survived it, I wouldn’t have if the darkness had not been there.”

Hair lifted on my arms. I recalled telling Ari I felt a strength in the burrow. I thought it was merely a spell that might be strong enough to keep them safe. All this bleeding time and now I knew I’d been sensing the end of peace in the isles.

“I was starving,” Sofia said. “It knew I was from the Court of Serpents, from the isles. It told me, should I let it in, it would keep me alive and make me strong again. I knew enough about dark glamour to think twice, but the need to survive took hold. I let it in. Once he was there, I could see him so plainly. He didn’t take control at first, merely kept his promise and kept me alive. Throughout the battle I was still . . . me.”

I knew what it meant to try to survive. I knew how instinct could overtake rational thinking.

“I almost believed I’d taken on an ally of the Norns or the gods at first. He whispered strategy. He helped me aid the thief king and queen.” Sofia shook her head. “But I was near Ari during the fighting, and something about the ambassador fascinated the spirit. When the battle ended, he was stronger. He told me to give Bracken the idea to bind the two of you together.”

Sofia slowly rose in the bed. Her silky hair was matted with tears and blood. “It was then he brought fear to my heart. I could not resist his request, and it was as if our hearts were connected. I knew every thought of you, Saga. I knew the moment he recognized you. I wanted to scream for you to run so many times.”

“How much of you has been real?” I ached to know all the times she’d tried to laugh with me, to befriend me since returning from the East. The laughter she’d brought to Ari’s household. She sat at his table, played games with cards and dice with Frey and Stieg. She was so believably pining over Bracken, how much was real?

“I was myself a great deal,” Sofia insisted. “He faded for some time. I thought perhaps he’d left me. Then he took hold again with a plot. A desire to gather all the fated crowns through the vows of the young prince and Eryka. He planned to kill them all.”

Sofia had been so swept up in planning the vows. She crooned many times about how wonderful it would be to have every royal in one gathering.

It was always Davorin, plotting a way to take three thrones at once.

“I knew he planned to kill Bracken and his kin,” Sofia whimpered. “He called them imposters. Then, he intended to force you to grant him the claim to the isles.” She dropped her gaze to the marking on my forearm. “He sent me to Astrid, he wanted her in his grasp, but he underestimated her power to compel.”

“She used it for her benefit, didn’t she?” Rune was the one who asked. He leaned onto his elbows over his knees, a despondency in his eyes I’d never seen.

Sofia nodded. “She bound him within me, and through me, controlled him. She truly believed a spirit of an undead warrior had claimed me and was her fated answer on how to bring battle to take back her throne.”

“Astrid might’ve tethered Davorin with her ropes, but I doubt she ever had control,” I muttered.

“She didn’t.” Sofia hugged her knees to her chest. “He was compelled to her by her glamour, but he used the nearness to dig into her belief he was a Draugr. He led her to do his bidding, all while she believed she would be crowned in the end, and she would have a lifetime with an undead battle lord as a reward.”

“Foolish, bleeding woman,” Rune mumbled under his breath before he shot to his feet.

Astrid had been a stain on this land, but we’d all been duped by Davorin.

“Eventually he was glad to have Astrid as a pawn since she was connected to you, Saga.”

My heart went still. “Why?”

“He needed you close. He urged her to brutalize you, to control you through pain. He wanted you to despise her, so you might, instead, turn to Ari.”

“Ari and I hated each other.”

“But the creature suspected Ari had been the one to awaken your heart,” Sofia said weakly. “He knew eventually you’d return to your power and Ari would be key to undoing the curses written long ago. He needed you to find your brother’s keys, and he made plans to put you on the path to find them.”

I thought of Astrid’s beatings and how they grew more violent after her failure in the East, but it was him all along.

“Ari made you stronger. The stronger you were, the stronger he grew. He began to have power over hatred. We practiced on a few simple folk, dockers, merchants, and the creature tested them on you.”

A breath caught in my throat. Einar. His men. The way they spewed hatred at me and threatened such vile things.

“I told Ari where to find you,” Sofia said. “Truly, that was me. I knew they planned to harm you, but Davorin took back his control swiftly.” She clutched her head. “I can’t shake the cruel way he laughed when Ari proved how he would fight for you, even if he tried to hate you. Perfect, he’d always say. The creature made his move, convinced he was strong enough, and set his plans in motion to hasten his claim to the throne.”

Sofia hung her head.

“Signe,” I said softly. “You brought the princess into the room, didn’t you.”

Sofia covered her face. “He loved my lust glamour and lured Signe there with it, knowing she had eyes for me. Then, he killed her. The loss of an innocent princess would incite the most outrage. He fed off it, made it grow. I wanted to scream as he sent me around, cutting at the people in the longhouse, touching them with his poison. He brought out their most secret, vicious thoughts, and I could do nothing to stop it.

“Astrid knew he was making a move, but she did not know it would end in Signe’s death.” Sofia shook her head. “Still, she was warped enough it did not take much to convince her it was necessary. He told her they would breed a new line of children. He plotted against Bracken, but he was well-guarded and he did not want to draw too much suspicion too soon. The creature always insisted the king would die at the right time. I could not stomach the idea of . . .” Sofia winced. “I could not hurt Bracken, so I tried to end it.”

I stared at the light scar on her throat. Not an attack from a wild fae after all.

“Davorin was furious, and after that, I had no control over my own heart and mind. He buried me.”

I stared at the fading scratches on my arm. “In the court of blood, did he mark me?”

I showed her the scratch marks, a rune of fate, but not clear enough anyone would think they were anything other than marks gathered from running through the wood.

Sofia nodded. “It was the first time he had been alone with you, and did a swift rite to ensure your paths would cross once your journey was complete. He kept me close to you, walking a pace behind your steps, waiting.”

“He discovered my journey once Gorm showed me the ring, didn’t he.”

“I suspect Lord Gorm knew something was not right with me,” Sofia said, “but the creature is skilled with deception. He never allowed the blood lord to see fully.”

It explained a touch of Gorm’s narrowed looks and slight hostility toward Sofia last we were here.

Sofia told us how Davorin preyed on Astrid’s greed. He told her we were after a power that could unravel her plan to take the throne, then Astrid manipulated Hawthorne into giving up the time and place by inciting the bastard’s love of battle games.

Sofia was the one who encouraged Bracken to take his mother’s actions as a slight.

“I was supposed to find a way for Bracken to kill his mother,” Sofia admitted, “then, turn my blade to him. But you had dealt with Astrid already. Your knowledge of him returned his old ability to claim anyone he desired, but only once Astrid’s compulsion over us was gone was he free to leave me.

“Before he left, I knew the plan was to hurt Ari. He knew you cared for the ambassador, and thought if he threatened Ari, you would hand over your power. He expected you to be weaker, Saga, and expected to be given the blood feather in exchange for saving Ari’s life. I do not think he ever expected you to trust Ari enough with it.”

“He is a fool who claims hearts, but does not truly understand them,” I said. “It is why my brother’s journey was so tied to devotion and love. Two things, Davorin would never be able to accomplish.”

Davorin thought he broke me into compliance, but he did not understand that the soft touch, the love of a man worthy of my heart, could heal the scars left behind.

“I wish you had not welcomed him into your heart, but I do not fault you,” I told her. “He has a silvery tongue, and desperation is just that—a desperate moment.”

Sofia let silent tears fall. “I will never forgive myself. Brack is . . . gone because of me.”

“Davorin killed Bracken. He will kill us all if we do not stop him.” I stood and pointed to the tea. “Rest. You’ve not been your own woman for some time. It will take time to heal from it.” I glanced at Rune. “Keep watch over her. I must go. I have a dying husband to care for.”

I turned from the room and strode down the hallway toward Gorm’s chambers. Sofia’s tears were drawing out my own. Davorin took hold of her and infiltrated our lives, and now a piece of her heart would never be full. Not with Bracken gone.

I could not stomach the thought of facing the same fate.

Gorm’s longhouse was one level, but made of dozens of rooms. His was in the center and the largest. The bed was made for his long body and was covered in wolf pelts. Now, the room was packed with two of his healers, the blood lord, Cuyler, Gunnar, Eryka, Frey, and Stieg.

When I stepped inside, Gorm snapped his fingers, and he and his people dipped their chins.

I hated that but said nothing. I moved to the bed and crawled over the mattress where Ari was lying against Gorm’s fur pillows.

Ari forced a smile, but it was a weak one. The light of it dull and painful. I traced my fingers over the black lines of the new tattoo on his neck, then kissed his dry lips softly.

“We are ready,” Gorm said.

They might’ve been ready, but I wasn’t.

I rested my forehead to Ari’s. “I will never stop until this is healed from you.”

“If it does not do so soon, don’t waste your life, sweet menace. It would be a beautiful life to ruin.”

“Of all the things you could say, I hate that the most. I will not stop, and you can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same.”

Ari winced through a chuckle and clutched his side. I peeked beneath the linen bandages. Davorin’s infection had reached the center of his ribs. It could not reach his heart. If his heart became infected, I did not know how long it would take to bring him back to me. If I could at all.

The same disease was still claiming the people of the isles. Gorm had worked with me to seal off his court. Piked fences, archers watching every border of the Court of Blood.

For now, no one would enter, and no one would leave until we could use my power, and the power of others we’d yet to find, to hopefully heal the hearts of the fae.

But we all felt it. Davorin was out there, growing his twisted army.

“My Queen,” said one of the blood fae healers. I startled at the title. The healer held out a vial of pale, rose gold liquid. “We ought not let any more time pass.”

“This will halt it?”

The healer nodded. “A fae sleep brings the world to a pause. Even illness, even death.”

I blinked. A tear fell onto my cheek. With the vial in hand, I looked to Ari.

He reached a hand to my cheek. “You won.”

“Won what?”

“You get to play hero while I sit here on my sleeping ass.”

I laughed through a burst of tears, then kissed him again. Gods, I wanted to kiss him and never stop. I did not want to forget his taste, his touch. I did not want to live in a world where he did not exist.

I kept my forehead to his as he tipped the contents of the vial onto his tongue. Then, he tangled his fingers into my hair.

I touched the line of his bottom lip and whispered, “I love you, you beautiful bastard.”

Ari’s eyes were glassy. He traced my jaw. “I will love you gloriously as I sleep, and vow to prove it to you when I wake. So, p-promise me . . . you must promise me you’ll be . . . you’ll be here when . . .”

His hand fell away, and his eyes fluttered closed.

I shuddered, holding in a thousand sobs. My head fell to his chest. The slow, steady cadence of his heart was a calm in a storm within; it was the safest place I could imagine.

A gentle hand rested on my shoulder. I wiped my eyes and faced Eryka.

She smiled. “Change the fate and find your love again.”

I didn’t need to press her on the strange words. I knew where to go. The moment Gorm told us the best way to save Ari was a fae sleep until we could find a way to unravel the darkness spreading within, I knew who could help.

I kissed his lips once more, then brushed his wheat-golden hair off his brow and rose from the bed.

Unashamed of the tears on my cheeks, I faced those who cared for him. “Stieg, Gunnar, you will wait to go to your folk until I return, yes?”

Gunnar nodded and slid a short blade into a sheath on his belt. “We will be ready for you on the Western shores. Be assured when the time is right, my folk will not hesitate, Saga. Not when it is for Ari, and not after what you did for my aunts.”

“It must be the right timing. They are at great risk here,” I said.

“I will explain everything.” Gunnar looked at Ari, a somberness darkening his eyes. “This is what Calista meant in the missive she sent me. It makes sense now. When he falls, protect my folk by delivering the call. She was talking of when Ari falls asleep. His as well,” The prince lifted his gaze to me. “He was told to search the skies for where his heart should be. He was looking to you.”

My heart cracked down the center as my blurred gaze fell on Ari’s sleeping face.

“When you return,” Gunnar went on, “I will help deliver the call of war to my people and we will stand with you.”

He took Eryka’s hand and smiled with a touch of sadness. “We will take vows someday. I swear to you.”

“I need no vow to know I am yours.” She kissed the hinge of his jaw, tears in her own eyes.

I pinched my lips and faced Gorm. “You’ll protect him?”

Gorm slammed a fist over his chest. “I will give my life if needed, but you understand by giving your power to him, you are now weakened.”

I nodded. Without Ari, my strength would not be enough to face Davorin alone. We needed help. We needed each other. Together, Ari and I would be one furious power, but until he woke, I would not be whole.

In more than one way.

“We will guard the king,” Eryka said, resting a hand on my arm. “The winds are in your favor.”

I nodded and gave a final glance to Ari’s sleeping form. Fae sleep could save him, but it was filled with horrid risk.

He might never wake.

I would not take any chances and would turn the paths of fate upside down if necessary to save him. For Ari, I would burn the greater good to see him laugh one more time.

On the stoop, I stood in the rain, letting the cold drops fill my skin.

I waved my palms in a long arch, humming softly, reaching for the sweetness in the soil, the loyalty in the trees. Glamour answered with a gentle tug at my heart. The trees around Gorm’s house bent and stretched. They tangled their branches about the door, the foundation, and windows, until a thick barrier shielded the walls. Only enough room for folk to slip out the front was left behind, but it would take a mighty army to break in.

“Protect your king,” I whispered my plea to the isles before I launched into the sky.

Without the feather, I never would have been able to fly such a distance without rest. The wind seemed to buoy me in the air, the currents quickened my pace. I flew through the night and into the day. When stars glittered in the pitch of night again, I reached the sagging gates with a ragged sign that read RAVEN ROW.

A reek of spoiled fish and oil enveloped me. Folk dressed in burlap tops with rope for belts staggered through the muddy streets, signing to the gods, drunk on their feet.

I kept flying. I knew well enough where to go, but as if a voice lived deep within, something guided me forward.

I swooped between wooden tenements that sagged. The wood planks were stripped and peeling from whitewash. Stoops were cracked, and brothels were made of inviting lanternlight, purrs of pleasure, and satin ribbons on the posts.

I perched atop a lantern beside an alehouse where the aleman tossed out a patron, shouting tales of cheats and schemes, and he’d sic the witches on him if he didn’t watch his back. My wings ached, but I needed to keep going.

I trusted the nudge in the wind, the soft heat in my rapid heart that this was the way, and rounded to the backside of the alehouse.

A tall tenement with at least a dozen flats stacked atop each other came into view. The uppermost window was opened, and the flicker of a candle was there.

I pushed against the wind. A shriek slid from my raven throat, a sob of exhaustion as I burst through the open window, and into the room. My wings gave out and I slid across the floor. When my body slid into its true form, the breeze of the night rippled against my naked flesh.

“Well, as I said, Stefan—we were going to catch a raven tonight.”

“Never doubted you, Cal. You always seem to think I am going to.”

“Eh, most folk think I’ve lost it, why not my brother as well?”

I trembled, but lifted my head.

Seated on a wicker chair, one foot propped onto a small table, a girl with wild golden hair rolled in messy braids, tipped onto the back two legs of the chair. Calista. The fate worker. The girl who was the only being I knew who had similar seidr magic like Riot once did. If anyone could help Ari, it would be her.

Beside her was a stern looking man, an herb roll between his teeth, and a tattered woolen cap on his head. He had a patchwork quilt in his hands and tossed it over my body, as though a naked woman had been expected.

I looked to the girl. Parched, and too weary to think much, I said, “Help him.”

Fate workers were mysterious in that one never knew what they could see through their magic. I didn’t speak Ari’s name, but she grinned and righted her chair.

The girl’s blue eyes broke into me. “Certain about this?”

I nodded. The man handed me a wooden cup of water. I tipped it into my throat, moaning when the icy taste soothed the dryness.

“You know, it isn’t always fun and games asking me for help. You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Calista shrugged. “There’s a dark feeling with this one. Be ready, Raven Queen. I think we’re about to write a new tale, and I’m not certain we’ll like the ending.”