A Heart So Fierce and Broken (The Cursebreaker Series Book 2)

Less than twelve hours ago, I watched this man receive a lashing until it exposed the muscle of his back, and now he’s on his feet like he’s ready to face an army. He must have been fierce as a guardsman. He’s fierce now, even pale and unsteady in the cool quiet of the courtyard. The look in his eyes makes my heart skip and flutter until I’m unsure whether I should run or stand my ground or find a weapon.

“What are you doing here?” he says, and only the whisper of strain in his voice reveals his weakness.

“The same as you, I believe.”

“You followed us.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You were half dead. It was hardly challenging.”

Princess Harper puts a hand on her guard’s arm. “Put up your sword,” she says quietly. To me, she says, “You have somewhere they can go?”

“Of course. He would be welcome in Syhl Shallow.”

“No,” says Grey.

“I am offering sanctuary,” I say. “In a place where Prince Rhen cannot pursue you.”

“So you are suggesting I trade one sovereign’s torture for another’s.”

“Torture?” I nearly laugh out loud. “You are the rightful heir to Emberfall. My mother will not harm you.” Mother will probably line his pockets with silver and fill his ears with promises. Nolla Verin will take one look at his dark eyes and broad shoulders and fawn all over him.

I should be happy—proud even—but the thought makes my stomach twinge.

I take a step closer, and he tenses. I spread my hands. “You can barely stand. You said you have nowhere to go.” I glance at Princess Harper. “Whatever you believe of my mother and my people, I truly did come here in the hopes of bringing peace to both our countries. I would offer peace now.”

Harper frowns, and she looks up at him. “Grey—you aren’t safe here.”

“Syhl Shallow is several days’ ride from here.” He takes a slow breath. “And that is if we ride hard.”

“Then we travel while we can,” I say, “and rest when you need.”

“No,” says the man standing near the inn wall. I recognize him and the healer from the day they dragged Grey into the courtyard. Prince Jacob. His skin is tan from midsummer, his hair dark and curly like Harper’s.

Harper swears under her breath and says, “Jake. Please.”

“He’s sworn to me now. If he’s going anywhere, it’s up to me.”

My eyes snap to Grey. “You are the crown prince and you swore your life to another?”

“I didn’t swear my life. And I am not the crown prince.” Grey cuts a glance at Jacob. “I swore passage as soon as I am able. To return you to Disi, I need the bracelet gifted by the enchantress—and it was left in Rillisk when you arrested me.”

Prince Jacob swears.

“I told you it wouldn’t be easy,” says Noah. “I told you that when we first caught him.”

“Tycho and I cannot return to Rillisk without being recognized,” says Grey. “Rhen has likely sent guardsmen there already.”

Harper’s expression is grim. “He has.”

Jacob folds his arms. “Fine. Whatever. I’m still not sending him to another country where we might never see him again.”

“You are all welcome to travel to Syhl Shallow,” I say. “I can guarantee your safety as well.”

They go silent and stare at me.

Wind cuts through the yard, pulling tendrils of hair from my cloak. “I came here seeking peace. I would like the opportunity to prove it.”

No one says anything.

Finally, Tycho says, “I heard that, in Syhl Shallow, the queen executes her prisoners, then eats their remains.”

Now my hands form fists. “I heard that, in Emberfall, the crown prince beats innocent boys nearly to death for political gain. Ah, forgive me, I watched that with my own eyes.”

Tycho flushes and looks away.

Grey runs a hand across his jaw and sighs. “We will head northwest, toward the mountain pass.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You agree?”

“Not yet. But if Rhen is searching in Rillisk—if he suspects I will find allies and friends there—it makes sense to head in the opposite direction.” He levels me with his gaze. “Though he may be seeking you as well, and it’s no secret which way you’ll go. A princess from Syhl Shallow will find few friends in Emberfall.”

“Then we’re well suited to help each other.”

Jacob looks to Harper. “You should come with us.”

“I need to go back.”

“No!” he snaps. “This is too far, Harp. You know it’s too far. You wouldn’t come with me before, but you can come with me now.” He pauses. “We can finally go home.”

She pales a shade, but she’s steadfast. “Jake—Rhen isn’t cruel. You didn’t see him last night—after—after you left—” Her voice breaks.

“I don’t care,” says Jacob.

She sniffs back her tears and straightens her back. “I care.” She pauses and glances at Grey. “And Rhen cares, too. Grey—he had no idea.”

“He knows now,” says Grey. His voice is soft. “And still he sent soldiers to Rillisk.”

“Please.” She glances at Jacob. “Please. What he did was horrible, but you have to understand—”

“I understand we are at risk,” says Grey. “And time is not on our side.”

“Come with us,” says Jacob.

For a moment, Harper glances between him and Grey. Her eyes linger on Grey for a moment too long. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop him,” she says quietly.

“A princess should not apologize—” he begins.

“I should,” she says. “And a prince should.” She takes a step back. “I’ll do what I can. I promise.”

After Harper leaves to return to Ironrose, we take the wagon. Jacob and Noah drive the horses, while a heavy length of canvas sheeting covers the back. Grey and Tycho both lie facedown on a thin layer of straw, speaking in low voices that I cannot make out over the creaks and rattles of the wagon—nor the steady beat of my pulse. I lie faceup near the side, my hands clasped over my abdomen, watching the canvas lighten as the sun finishes rising.

My comfortable carriage ride with Nolla Verin a few short days ago feels more like a dream than a memory.

I’ve been wondering what my sister thought when Parrish came back with my message. I’d like to think that she is hopeful for me—or at least worried for me.

As we drive, I wonder about Princess Harper. Grey claimed there was nothing between them, but there is surely something. By helping him, she puts herself at risk. She puts her country at risk. Along with the missing military support promised by Disi, it creates more questions than I have answers for. I could understand if she hoped to ally with Grey as the rightful heir, but she would never send him away. Especially not with me. She must know my mother will seek to use Grey against Rhen, but she seemed desperate to see him safely away, no matter the potential cost.

Eventually the wagon rattles to a stop, and we emerge in the middle of a forest so densely packed with trees and foliage that the sun fights to find us.

Jacob is beginning to unhitch the horses, and Grey says, “Turn them loose. They bear the royal brand. We’ll have to go on foot.”

“You want to walk to Syhl Shallow?”

“I do not want to walk anywhere at all.” Grey looks up and around, blinking at the streaks of sunlight that peek between leaves. “We can find horses in the next city.” His eyes shift to Harper’s brother. “I would ask for your sword.”

Jacob snorts. “Well, I would tell you no.”

Grey takes a step closer to him. His wounds have seeped through his shirt to create a maze of pink and red lines across his back, and he moves stiffly. “Your life is not at stake. Mine is.”

Jacob folds his arms, and his eyes turn flinty. “You can barely stand up straight. What are you going to do with it?”

“Just give him the sword,” says Noah.

“Okay, sure.” Jacob gives Grey an up-and-down glance. “If you can take it, you can have it.”

Grey’s hand flies so quickly that I barely realize he’s moved until his fist cracks into Jacob’s jaw. I gasp as the other man starts to fall. Grey grabs the hilt and pulls the blade free before Jacob hits the ground.

“Done.” Grey points the sword at his waist. “The belt as well.”

Jacob pushes himself up on one arm and spits blood into the leaves. “I hate you.”

Noah sighs and picks up a heavily laden satchel and swings it over his shoulder. His warm brown eyes look to me. “Lia Mara, is it? Let’s start walking. Come on, Tycho.”

He turns. Compared to the other men, I appreciate his quiet, no-nonsense demeanor. I hurry to fall in step beside him. Tycho is a shadow at our back.

“You don’t know where you’re going!” Jake calls from behind us.

“I know which way northwest is,” Noah calls back. “I’m not stitching you up again, Grey.”

“You said you took an oath. You have to stitch me up no matter what.” But leaves and underbrush crunch behind us, so I know they are following.

For some reason, I expected that we would walk a short while before finding a town, but we trudge through the woods for hours. The terrain is rough and the going slow, so no one talks until I’m starving and Grey is limping and Tycho’s breathing is labored. The boy swipes sweat from his eyes, which are red, and I wonder if tears are mixed in.

“Perhaps we should rest,” I say, and Tycho shoots me a grateful look.

Grey casts a look around. “We’re less than five miles from the creek. We can camp there, then set out again after midnight.”

Five miles. Now I want to cry. I shift to walk beside Tycho. His jaw is tight, and he’s forcing his legs to move.

“Five miles won’t take long,” I say, and I’m partly trying to convince myself. “And a creek means water.”

Grey must hear the encouraging note in my voice, because he looks over and catches a glimpse of Tycho’s expression. “If there were steamed crabs at the end, you’d be running for them,” he says.

A weary grin breaks through Tycho’s melancholy. “I’d beat you there.”

“Can we please not talk about food?” says Jacob.

We all fall back into silence. Grey staggers as he steps over a fallen tree, but he catches himself with a hand against another trunk. He makes no sound, but it takes him a moment before he can press on.

I’ve reached a point where I can’t tell if this is strength or stubbornness.

“Can you not use magic to heal yourself?” I say to him. “I have heard stories of the magesmiths—”

“I cannot use magic at all.”

Tycho glances over. “You used magic to free us.” He pauses, then glances at me. “And—and at Worwick’s.”

“At Worwick’s, I had an enchanted bracelet. At Ironrose …” He sighs. “I have no idea what happened at Ironrose.”

“Maybe we should beat the crap out of you again and see what happens,” says Jacob.

Grey gives him a level look. “Try.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Noah snaps.

“Must you men make everything about violence?” I say. “Not every problem can be solved by the edge of a sword.”

“Your mother surely thinks so.” Grey looks at me, and his eyes are hard. “Not every problem can be solved by the tongue in your mouth, either.”

The words are not suggestive, but I flush anyway. Even wounded and limping, with sweat and blood sticking his shirt to his body, he is so unyielding. I miss the easy banter of Sorra and Parrish. Easy banter that I’ll never hear again, due to my choices. Due to their misplaced loyalty. I longed to be queen, but Mother made the right choice in naming Nolla Verin.

My throat is tightening, so I shake these thoughts away before they can get the better of me. “I have offered to help you,” I say. “I am not your enemy.”

“You are an enemy to Emberfall,” he says. “You are a threat to the Crown.”

Now I see. This is the former guardsman speaking. I hold his gaze. “So are you.”

He sets his jaw and says nothing.

We hear the rush of water long before we see it flowing between trees at a rapid clip. The waterway is wider than I expect, at least twenty feet across, with occasional shallow pools where water has collected along the banks.

Tycho all but drops to his knees in the muddy bank and thrusts his hands into the flowing water, scooping it to his lips.

“We should boil it first,” says Noah, but the rest of us are already following suit.

I don’t recognize my thirst until the cool water touches my lips. Even locked in my room at Ironrose Castle, I still had access to food and water. I cannot remember a time where I’ve gone all day without sustenance. I’m slurping from my hands like an animal, but I still can’t get enough.

A hand closes on my arm. “Slow,” says Grey, and for the first time his voice isn’t harsh, only tired. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

I wonder if this is an attempt to ease the tension between us, but when I look up, he’s already moving away. Jacob begins collecting branches to form a pile. I dry my hands on my breeches and follow him, gathering twigs and dried leaves for kindling. He glances at me in surprise. “Hey. Thanks.”

“You are surprised I would help?”

He smiles sheepishly, and it makes him look very much like his sister. There’s a hardness hidden under the expression, an edge that Harper lacks, but no deceitfulness or guile. I wonder at the vitriol between him and Grey.

“From what I know of royalty,” Jacob says, “yeah, I am.”

“You are royalty, too, are you not?”

His eyes shutter and turn unreadable. “Where I come from, if we want something done, we do it ourselves.”

By the time we have a fire going, dusk has thrown long shadows across the stream and brought a cool breeze to wind through the trees. Somewhere in the branches above, a bird of prey screeches a warning. The silence among us is not easy or companionable. My stomach aches for food, but we have none.

“I have silver,” Jacob says to Grey. “I could walk into town.”

“Is a town close? I could go, too,” I offer. “We could pretend to be a married couple traveling together.”

Grey’s dark eyes find mine. “The farther north we travel, the more the people of Emberfall have seen invaders from Syhl Shallow. Your accent would give you away.” He glances at Jacob. “And yours would paint you as an outsider.”

“So what? You think they’re going to send word to Rhen that one random guy showed up with a weird accent?”

“The prince has offered a bounty of five hundred silvers. If you think people are not looking for bodies to sacrifice to the Crown, you are wrong indeed.”

Jacob looks like he’s about to retort, but Tycho says, “The enforcers executed a man in Rillisk.” His expression is tense. “They didn’t even have proof.”

Jacob shuts his mouth.

Grey shifts his weight, then grimaces. The pink streaks on his shirt have turned to red, but he’s turned down any ministrations. “You do not want to walk into a strange city after dark. Not now.”

At his side, Tycho sighs. “I’d give almost anything for a platter of Jodi’s crabs right now.”

Grey’s smile is grim. “I’d give anything for a bow and a dozen arrows.”

Jacob tips his head back and stares at the sky. “I’d give anything for a burger with everything from Chewie’s.”

“Oh yes.” Noah laughs, the sound low and warm, indicating a shared memory.

I smile, charmed. “What is a burger?”

I expect them to lean in and explain, but instead their expressions close off the way Jacob’s did when we were gathering firewood.

“Nothing we’ll ever see again,” says Jacob. “Unless Grey can get us home.”

I study him and consider Mother’s suspicions about Disi, and the way Harper did not carry herself with the manner of a ruler—nor does Jacob. When we were debating where to find sanctuary, no one ever mentioned Disi as a place we’d be safe. Not even Princess Harper. There was no mention of assistance from the King of Disi in managing Emberfall’s political unrest—and no mention of their alliance being at risk if Rhen was not the rightful heir.

Unless Grey can get us home.

My eyes flash to Grey’s. “Disi can only be reached by magic.”

He stares back at me, his expression inscrutable.

Now that I’ve found a thread to pull, it all begins to unravel. “That is why there are no forces to lend support. They are trapped in Disi.”

Grey’s dark eyes give away nothing, but Jacob looks abashed. Noah looks resigned.

Tycho looks fascinated.

“Are there forces at all?” I say, with a glance at Grey. “An army waiting on your magic?”

He says nothing.

But that says everything.

I blow a breath out between my teeth. Overhead, the bird of prey screeches again. “Quite the story your prince has told his people.”

He denies nothing. “We did it to save our people. And it worked.”

Well, at least that much is true. But now I understand why Rhen’s subjects have begun to rise up against him. He made promises that are failing to come true. He bought their confidence with lies, and now he will be weaker than when he began.

I look at Noah and Jacob. “And you are trapped here. You cannot return home.”

They exchange a glance.

“Yes,” Jacob says finally. “More or less.”

My heart trips along, trying to make full sense of this revelation. “And neither of you are royalty at all, are you?”

“No,” says Jacob. He offers half a shrug. “Noah is really a doctor.”

“Then Princess Harper is not a princess.”

“She saved the prince from a terrible fate,” says Grey. “She risked her life for Emberfall, and she risked her life to protect me. She may not be a princess by birth, but she is one in spirit.”

We all fall silent, but now there’s a contemplative tension to it. Somewhere in the darkness, another screech echoes through the trees.

Eventually, most of the men find spots in the shadows to retire to, but despite my exhaustion, my thoughts are still churning.

Grey hasn’t found sleep either. When I glance over, the firelight flickers across his cheeks, and I realize he’s watching me.

I meet his eyes and hold them, then wait.

“You’re clever,” he says.

It’s not what I expected, and the word doesn’t sound like a compliment—nor an insult, really. I can’t read his tone. The bird of prey calls out to the night again, and I shiver.

Grey doesn’t look away. “You knew I was the heir,” he says, his tone very low, very thoughtful. “And you figured out the truth of Disi. What else do you know, Princess?”

I keep my eyes on the fire and try to keep any despondency from my voice. “In truth, I am not a princess. I am the elder of two sisters, but only the named heir earns that title, and that is not me.”

“Then what do you know, elder sister?”

I hesitate, but he is so forthright, so lacking in hesitation, that it makes me want to act the same. “I know you must have been very loyal to Prince Rhen to keep this secret.” I pause. “I see how loyal Tycho is to you, and I think Prince Rhen’s actions must have been quite a betrayal.”

Grey snaps a twig between his fingers and tosses the pieces into the fire. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “I once told him he was never cruel. I meant it as a mark of respect.” He pauses. “Now I feel as though I issued a challenge, and he accepted.”

Nolla Verin can be cruel, but I cannot imagine her taking something dear to me and torturing it—even for political gain. Regardless of my feelings for Rhen, these men had a history. I do not understand what it must have cost Grey to endure the beating—nor what it must have cost Rhen to have it done.

The air has grown heavy and uncomfortable, so I tilt my head and look at him, forcing my voice to be light. “Earlier, when everyone wished for food, you wished for a dozen arrows. Why?”

The ghost of a smile peeks through his sadness. “If I had a dozen arrows, we’d eat for a week.”

Ah. Of course. I should have wished for a dozen arrows as well.

He winces then, and presses a hand to his side, where his shirt clings to a weeping wound. The bird screeches again, sounding closer.

“Should I wake Noah?” I whisper.

“No.” Grey pulls the shirt away from the wound, his breath shaking from the effort. He shifts, then shifts again, unable to get comfortable. Another screech echoes through the woods. “If I had an arrow,” he snaps, “I’d shoot that creature.”

Wings beat among the trees, followed by another long screech that’s cut off abruptly.

“Well.” Grey stares up at the branches. “I suppose something else took care of it.”

Leaves rustle, and a black shape falls out of the sky. A large goose slaps into the ground with a thump.

Grey swears and jerks back. I give a yip of surprise.

His eyes meet mine, and his hand falls on the sword lying beside him.

Out of the darkness above, another shape descends, buoyed by a pair of wide black wings that nearly span the narrow clearing. Smoky gray feet settle into the leaves silently. It’s beautiful and terrifying, and I catch my breath.

“A scraver,” I whisper, torn between fear and wonder. Part of me wants to scramble back, but another part wants to crawl forward and take a closer look. I’ve never seen one outside the pages of a book, and stories of their inhuman feats in the ice forests did not prepare me to meet one face-to-face.

“Yes, Princess,” says the creature. Its words are soft, barely more than a whisper on the air. Fangs glitter in the moonlight when it speaks. Its eyes are pure black, no white showing at all. “And as for you,” it says to Grey, “do you go by Hawk? Or by Grey?”

Beside me, Grey swallows. His hand is tight on the sword.

The scraver’s skin absorbs the shadows as it leans toward us, shifting into a mockery of a courtly bow, wings flaring wide. “Ah, forgive me. Shall I call you Your Highness?”