Night of Masks and Knives (The Broken Kingdoms Book 4)

My voice was shrill as the skydguard forced my stepbrother to his knees.

His hair had grown long to his shoulders. His beard was ratted and knotted, ending just above his heart. He wore rags, and those strong, safe arms were thin and bruised now.

I took a step to rush the drive, to fight off anyone who dared touch him, but was stopped by a firm grip around my waist.

Elof held me against his broad chest, pulling me back.

I struggled against him. “No!”

“Be quiet.”

“Release me!”

“Shut your mouth, or I will force it closed.” The fool clung to me like I was his last breath. I hated him. Slowly, Elof walked me back toward the trees. “Malin, you must let him go.”

The bastard did know my name.

“No.” The pain in my chest grew too much. I slumped against his body. “It’s the masque.”

“I know.”

“They’ll . . . destroy him. Let me go!”

The door to the longhouse tore open. My stepfather and half the household spilled onto the drive.

“What is this?” Jens snarled.

A skydguard with a silver seax blade stepped forward. The captain, no doubt.

“For your service to the Black Palace, your Lord Magnate has granted those of you at House Strom the opportunity to bid farewell to the second son.”

“No,” Jens said. “I received word he was to be released.”

“Plans have changed, My Lord. From here, Lord Hagen Strom, a known Alver, will be of the employ of the Lord Magnate in whatever capacity he deems suitable.”

“No.” I whipped around in Elof’s hold, but he only gripped my hips until the dig of his fingernails hurt.

“If you want to keep your damn head, you’ll shut up,” he snapped in my ear and pulled us into the shadows near an old supply hut. Darkness swallowed us whole. I hadn’t realized how thickly night came, but I could hardly catch sight of Hagen in the dim.

“My son has served his sentence,” my stepfather insisted.

The captain tilted his head. “Do you question your Lord Magnate, Lord Strom?”

“Daj,” Hagen’s voice—oh, the sound of his voice after so long ached—was rough and lined in a harsh rasp. “Let me go, but . . . go to them. Don’t let them suffer, I beg of you. Free them.”

Let who suffer? Who needed to be free?

Jens stiffened, turning into a silent sentinel. He watched mutely as the skydguard shoved Hagen forward, as they commanded he bid his folk farewell.

I needed to see him, needed to get to him, touch him. Elof was strong, but I was desperate. The heel of my boot slammed over his foot. He cursed me, but it was enough to loosen his grip for a moment.

I snapped free of his hold and raced for the drive, ready to slaughter every skydguard bringing harm to Hagen. Irrational, perhaps, but I would cut as many as I could before they ended me. Hagen would not be taken. Not like Kase. I would not lose them both to the masquerade.

“Hagen!”

He lifted his eyes in my direction and shook his head. “Mal, no. Please.”

Damn him. I would not watch him be lost to the world. He’d die at the masque, no mistake.

But those cursed arms curled around my waist again, pulling me back. I shrieked, screamed. Drew a few looks from the skydguard. I was pulled into the shadows before any guards took enough interest to follow.

Elof dragged me straight to Ansel’s cottage. He pressed my shoulders against the door and leveled me in his stare. “Your brother made his choices. He knew the risks. What he would want right now is to make sure you are safe, so that is what I will do. It is what I will always do.”

He made no sense. I didn’t want to hear him or be anywhere else but chasing down the coach taking Hagen into the hells.

But I could. I could step into the masquerade this turn. Burn it to the ground.

Tears dried. Emotion burned up.

Elof must’ve noticed a new darkness in my eyes for he cursed the gods and sighed. “You will not leave this alone.”

“Never.” The word scraped through my teeth.

“Always the reckless fool,” he said, but it was as if he spoke it more to himself. “You will never find him without help, you do realize this, right? Tell me you are not so foolish to think you can chase him to the Masque av Aska on your own.”

Did it matter if I had planned to do exactly that? No. I would break the ground of Klockglas if it meant I rescued Hagen from the same fate I’d forced upon Kase.

“I would not mock me now,” I whispered. “It will not end well for you.”

Elof gripped the back of my head with such force, I choked on my breath. “And it will all end for you if you chase this alone. No one is mad enough to touch the masquerade. Unless you make a deal with the Guild of Kryv, but—”

His mouth shut at once, as if the words slipped out and he hadn’t intended it. My eyes widened. The Guild of Kryv belonged to the Nightrender, a wraith of a man. A crook who hated the Lord Magnate and folk of status. Some called him the dark faerie. A man who’d appear when one’s darkest desires needed to become reality.

I believed him to be nothing more than a killer who thrived in chaos.

“The Nightrender is a killer, not a frequenter of the masque,” I whispered.

“He is a dealmaker.” Elof muttered, running his hands through his thick hair. “Deals are what the Guild of Kryv does.”

“A dealmaker? Ah, so you believe he is a fae who grants wishes. I never took you for a stupid man, Elof.”

“Gods, do you know anything about the bleeding world? I’m not speaking of faerie wishes and magic, although, the fae of our neighboring kingdoms will take offense to your dismissal of them. But in Klockglas, in every bleeding region, power is given through schemes, bribes, and deals. The Nightrender is the best at them, but it doesn’t matter. He would not make a deal with a foolish woman like you. You’re too reckless.”

Fists clenched, I lifted my chin in a way to seem bigger, but the truth was I couldn’t stop shaking. “You know a great deal about them. They could help, couldn’t they?”

“No. No one can help you. You misunderstood me, dännisk. Do not ask again.”

I’d lost my brother and my heart to the masquerade. I was finished with the shadows surrounding it. With one palm I shoved against his chest. “Don’t lie to me. You brought up the Kryv because they were the first thought to come to your mind. First thoughts tend to be the most honest. Now, tell me true—are the Kryv capable of helping me get my brother back?”

Elof’s mouth tightened. He didn’t drop his gaze off mine. Didn’t blink.

“By the gods, I am not a piece of glass!” I stepped back a few paces. “The masquerade has taken every piece of my heart, and I would like them back. If the Guild of Kryv can be of use, bleeding tell me, or I swear I will confess to every skydguard that I have plans to poison every cake at the masquerade. At least then, I will find Hagen by getting tossed into the masque myself. Do not doubt me, I will do it.”

Elof stared at me with a bit of stun for a few breaths, then folded his arms over his chest, shifting on his feet. “The amusing part of your threats is you’re dense enough to follow through with them. You wish to make a deal with the Kryv? Unwise, but if you insist dännisk—” Elof pointed at Ansel’s door, stepping toward the shadows of the trees, “you should ask your brother’s boon companion what such deals entail. Then make your choice.”

My chest cinched. Ansel knew of the Nightrender? Gentle, overbearing, but a wretched dealmaker? That could not be.

Elof stepped off the stoop, and a grip of panic tightened my throat. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Away. Like you, the masquerade is enough to unsettle even me.” Elof paused before slipping into the darkness. “Don’t be foolish and follow your brother tonight. You are worthless to him if you get yourself killed.”

Then, he was gone.

I stood in the frame of Ansel’s cottage for a long breath. Twice I’d been broken. Twice the Eastern Kingdom had robbed me of a person my heart cherished.

Time for my vengeance had come and gone too many times.

I would take it now.