A Vow So Bold and Deadly (The Cursebreaker Series Book 3)

My afternoon drones on, and I find myself looking at the windows more often than not. It’s difficult to be still, sitting attentively while advisors and representatives from my Royal Houses talk about our preparations for war. It’s impossible to focus on grain stores and the late harvest when my brain wants to fix on every glimmer in someone’s hand. The palace feels claustrophobic, as if I could be trapped in a hallway with assassins hiding behind every door, while the training fields left me feeling vulnerable and exposed. I don’t like either option. I’m relieved when I can retire to my quarters to dress before dinner.

My room has always been a sanctuary, and it’s no different now. I send for a tray of hot tea and lock myself inside, curling onto the chaise longue by the window. I used to hide here and read when I grew bored of court politics and my mother’s machinations.

Or rather, I used to strategically position myself here. The thought makes me smile. I can see Grey from my window. He seems to have found Tycho, because they’re sparring with Jake in the fading light.

But as I watch, the smile slides off my face. I was unprepared for the tension between him and the soldiers, especially the officers. A year of military service is mandatory in Syhl Shallow, but many of the men and women on the field have made a career of it. It was once considered an honor.

Few of the people I saw today seemed to consider it an honor anymore.

I don’t know if that’s because of me, or because of Grey. Or because of us both.

A knock sounds at my door, and I jump, my heart pounding hard against my ribs. I have to remind myself that an assassin wouldn’t knock, and my guards wouldn’t let many people get that far anyway. It’s probably the tea I just requested.

Either way, it takes me a moment to call, “Enter.”

My sister breezes through the door almost before I say the word, letting the heavy wood panel close behind her. She’s still wearing her armor and weapons from the training fields, but somehow she wears them more elegantly than the gauzy belted robes we wear at court. Her hair gleams in its braids, her cheeks still pink from the chill in the air outside.

“I’ve been waiting to talk to you all afternoon,” she says. “You should have let Grey make that man fight until he was coughing blood on his boots. Mother would have.”

As if I don’t compare my failings to my mother’s victories every second of every day. “Hello, my dear sister,” I say tersely. “Please, do not hesitate to speak freely.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “What are you doing in here? I thought you were meeting with the advisors about the food stores for the winter.”

“I was.” I glance back at the window. “What are you doing here? I’m surprised you’re not still on the field, making some poor soldier beg for mercy.”

“Ellia Maya was able to discover the identity of the woman who attacked you,” she says. “She lived in the city, not far from the palace. We do not believe she was working alone.”

I go still, thinking of how Grey and I strode through the city streets this very morning. I bite back a shiver.

Nolla Verin isn’t done. “Ellia Maya said her home was filled with documents on the history of magesmiths. There are records of weapons that are impervious to magic—weapons that were used against them in the past.”

“Weapons?”

“None were found.” She hesitates. “But that does not mean they don’t exist. The girl had drafted letters to the Royal Houses asking them to stand against our alliance with magic. She was not the only one who had signed them.”

This time I do shiver. I knew the distrust for magic was strong in Syhl Shallow, but I was unprepared for an organized objection.

“How many?” I say quietly.

“Not many. The guards are tracking them down.” Nolla Verin pauses. “Many seem to have fled. Their homes have been ransacked.”

I say nothing, and my sister moves close. “Lia Mara.” She puts a hand over mine. “After what happened yesterday … are you all right?”

I look back at her in surprise. Nolla Verin can be so callous, so brutally practical, that I forget she can also be caring and dutiful.

When I don’t say anything, she sits beside me on the chaise. She smells like sweat and leather and sunshine, and I’m reminded of how Mother originally chose her to be heir. Sometimes I wonder if she wouldn’t be better at this. Solt would not have been defiant on the training fields. That assassin wouldn’t have dared to draw close. I can hardly imagine Nolla Verin listening to petty complaints at all.

I’m still irritated that she issued orders in the throne room yesterday—but I’m also envious that she had the strength to take harsh action, when I did not.

“Lia Mara.” Her voice is soft, and she reaches out to touch my hand, and I realize I’ve drawn my arms across my midsection again.

“I feel like such a fool,” I whisper, and then, against my will, my eyes fill with tears.

Nolla Verin tsks, and she pulls me against her. She’s younger than I am, but just now, I feel like a child. I lean against her shoulder, the edges of her weapons pressing into my curves, while she strokes my hair down my back.

“There, there,” she says after a moment. “Tell me who I can stab for you.”

I giggle and straighten, swiping at my tears. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m committed.” She’s only teasing a little bit. Her eyes search mine. “When Mother named me heir, when she announced her intent for me to marry Prince Grey, she did so without yielding her ability to rule. The people of Syhl Shallow had nothing to fear.”

I snort. “But now they fear my rule.”

“Yes,” she says simply. “They fear magic. They fear your alliance with a prince of an enemy land.” Her voice hardens. “Instead they should fear you.”

“I don’t want anyone to fear me.”

“Ah. So you hope to coddle them into loyalty.” She rolls her eyes, then clutches her hands to her chest mockingly. “Please don’t hurt me, assassins! Would anyone like a sweet pastry? ”

“Stop it.” I shove her hands away and stand. “I want my people to know I care for them. I want them to feel confident in my abilities to protect them without making them cough blood on their boots.”

She frowns. “Then you must show them you will not stand for insurrection. That you will not stand for disloyalty.”

“I don’t need to be cruel—”

“No.” She points out at the field. “But you’re asking them to fight for you. You’re asking me to fight for you.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t—”

“Ah, sister.” Nolla Verin swears. “How can you ask them to fight for you when you won’t fight for yourself?”

The words draw me up short, and I stare at her. Is that what I’ve been doing? I don’t know. I can’t tell.

“I might be able to fight for myself if you didn’t feel the need to issue orders on my behalf,” I say tightly.

She snaps back, “I wouldn’t feel the need if you weren’t so determined to allow peasants to spit in your face.”

“I don’t need to cut out someone’s tongue to prove a point.”

“Maybe you should! No one can tell you have a point to prove.”

I glare at her. She glares back.

I wish I hadn’t cried on her shoulder now. It makes me feel immeasurably weak, especially since she’s standing in front of me adorned in leather and steel, fresh off the training fields, when I was hiding in my room.

I straighten. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts,” I say through my teeth. “I have to prepare for dinner now.”

A knock sounds at my door, but neither of us moves.

“Enter,” I finally call.

It’s a serving girl with the platter of tea I ordered. She’s young, with flushed cheeks and red hair pinned into a knot at the back of her head. Her eyes are fixed on the tray, which is almost as wide as she is tall. She eases into the room and bobs a curtsy that makes the dishes rattle. She has to clear her throat. “Your Majesty.” Her eyes flick to Nolla Verin and her voice trembles as she sets the tray on a side table. “Your H-Highness. Shall I pour a cup for you both?”

Nolla Verin folds her arms and says, “Certainly,” just as I say, “My sister was just leaving.”

“Fine,” we both say simultaneously.

I fold my arms as well. The girl hesitates, then she must decide that this means my sister is staying, because she sets two rattling cups in their saucers. The sound of the sloshing liquid is loud in the tense space between us.

The girl lifts the saucer in one hand and moves toward me. Her eyes are downcast, and the way the dish vibrates makes me wonder if she’s been chastised by my mother in the past. She reminds me of the flinching barmaid in the tavern.

“Thank you,” I say gently, but I keep my eyes on my sister. I reach for the saucer.

The girl releases the dish and bobs another curtsy.

Then, without warning, her hand swings.

I’m so focused on Nolla Verin that I almost don’t see it coming, but my nerves are on edge today, and my body ducks to the side without my willing participation.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. Nolla Verin is a better fighter than I’ll ever be, and she already has a blade free. My sister’s dagger is in the girl’s chest and my cup of tea is shattered on the floor before I even realized what happened.

“Guards!” Nolla Verin is shouting, but my gaze is fixed on the girl on the floor. She’s gasping, choking on blood. Her hands flail limply at the blade embedded in her chest.

“You—you—” she’s gasping.

Nolla Verin kicks her in the ribs, and the girl’s eyes flare wide. She makes a loud choking sound as her lungs beg for air.

My sister spits at her. “You’re lucky you’ll be dead before I can give you what you truly deserve.”

I grab my sister’s arm. “Stop.” I stare down at the girl as guards swirl into my chambers, weapons drawn. “Me. Me what?”

Her eyelids flicker. Her hands grasp at the blade. “You ally us with monsters.”

Then her eyes stop moving and her hands stop struggling, and she just lies there, dead.

The attack causes so much uproar that I wonder if I’ll ever find a still moment again, but in a way, I don’t mind the chaos, the questions, the intense scrutiny from Grey and my sister when they interrogate the guards. Clanna Sun begs me to move into the queen’s chambers, but I don’t want to leave my room. I feel like it’s my last source of refuge. Servants took away the body and the velvet floor coverings, replacing them efficiently while I clung to the corner and tried not to watch for hidden weapons.

It takes hours before the last of my guards and advisors clear out, leaving only Nolla Verin and Grey to have a heated discussion just outside the door. Nolla Verin’s voice is low, but my sister already made her position clear. She probably wants to execute all my guards and start fresh. Maybe she’s already given an order to do so. Maybe people would obey.

The thought makes me angry. I don’t want to know.

That thought makes me frown. I should want to know.

Nolla Verin was right. I should be fighting for myself. The proof was quite literally left gasping for breath on my floor.

I shudder and move to the window, which has long since gone dark. The room is warm from the fire in the hearth, but a chill sneaks around the window joints anyway. I should pull the draperies to block the draft, but I already feel trapped. Frost glistens at the corners of the glass, and I know Iisak must be on the roof above.

You ally us with monsters.

Maybe I have, but right now it’s reassuring. I wouldn’t expect anyone to come in through a third-story window, but Grey once climbed a rope to get into these chambers, so I know it’s not impossible.

The door clicks softly, and I don’t know if I’m more panicked at the thought of being alone or being attacked, but I whirl before I can stop myself.

Nolla Verin is gone, and Grey stands alone beside the door. His dark eyes search my face, and I have no doubt he can read every worry in my expression.

“I have sent for a meal.” He pauses. “Your sister has selected the guards stationed in the hallway. I will join them once the food arrives. Jake will relieve me at midnight—”

“Please don’t.” The words come out as a whisper, and he stops, regarding me.

“Lia Mara. You have been attacked twice now.” He hesitates. “I would not feel comfortable returning to my chambers—”

“No. I meant—” My voice catches. “I meant I don’t want you to leave.”

His eyes narrow just the tiniest bit, and I wish he weren’t so good at concealing any emotion. A bloom of heat finds my cheeks, and I have to glance away. We’re so rarely alone together. Even when we are, it’s for moments at a time, with an open door and a guard stationed nearby. My people are so sensitive to the idea of me needing a man at my side that I’ve made every attempt to put them at ease, to demonstrate that my alliance with Grey will be about my people first.

But now he’s here, the door closed, the night pressing against the windowpanes.

He hasn’t said anything, and I have to turn to look out the window again. “Forgive me,” I say quickly. “I am being improper.” I pause. “I am being foolish as well.”

“You are being neither.” He speaks from beside me, and I nearly jump. He crossed the room so silently. He’s bound up in leather and blades as usual, but the spark of light on silver makes me think of what Nolla Verin said about weapons that could stand against his magic.

“Nolla Verin said there are rumors of weapons that could be used against a magesmith.” I look up and find his eyes. “Against you.”

“She told me the same.” He gives me a level gaze. “If someone bears such a weapon, they are welcome to try.”

I shiver. Maybe that’s why I’m the target. I know how to defend myself—but not like Grey does. Not even like my sister does.

Now that he’s standing close, I sense a flicker of fatigue in his frame. I hadn’t noticed. I should have.

“You deserve to rest,” I say.

“So do you.” He sighs. “Fate always seems to conspire against us both.”

“Fate.” He believes in it, but I don’t. I reach out and catch his hand, winding our fingers together, tracing my thumb along the edge of his bracer where it sits against his wrist. “I don’t like the idea that these attacks might be predestined. That our entire attack on Emberfall might be predestined.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I often find comfort in the thought that fate has already drawn a path beyond what seems impossible.”

“This war seems impossible?” I don’t find that thought reassuring at all.

“Yes.” He pauses. “But so did the curse. Our journey here to Syhl Shallow. My escape from Ironrose.” Another pause. “My childhood.” He glances at me. “Your mother.”

I cling to his hand and look out the window again. He’s so warm beside me, and I’m suddenly very aware of his presence. I don’t think we’ve been alone in my chambers with the door closed since the night he crept past the guards to sneak in. Then as now, he was such a gentleman, bound by duty and honor. We shared sugared plums beneath the window, trading secrets and stealing kisses until my mother came bursting through the door.

The instant I think of kissing him, my cheeks burn, and I have to keep my gaze fixed on the window. His palm against mine feels too warm now, too intimate, but it would be more awkward to let go. He’s here to keep me safe, that’s all. I’m glad he’s trussed up in buckled leather while I’m draped in yards of belted fabric. Allies first. Anything more is a mere hope that we have to deny until we achieve peace.

But as I listen to the softness of his breathing beside me, the last thing I’m thinking about is peace, or war, or even the threats against my life. I cast my glance slightly sideways, until I catch a glimpse of his profile in the shadows, the curve of his lip, the angle of his jaw, the bare start of a beard that always seems to rob him of a bit of his severity.

Without warning, he turns to look at me, and my breath catches. I’m trapped in his gaze.

A knock sounds at the door, and I jump a mile.

“Be at ease.” Grey lifts my hand to kiss my fingertips, and sparks light all the way up my arm—but then he lets go. “This will be our dinner.”

He heads for the door, leaving me to melt into a puddle by the window.

Did fate have to send dinner right this moment? I want to ask.

But I don’t. I straighten my robes, steel my spine against the new burst of anxiety about servants entering my quarters, and remind myself of how to be a queen.