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

I’m glad it’s finally cold outside, because one of the things I miss most about Washington, DC, is the ready access to antiperspirant. Freya has half a dozen jars of lotions and potions and powders to make me smell good, but none of them stop me from sweating. I’m halfway through unbuckling my bracers when I turn the corner to head down the hallway, but I hear low voices from the room beside mine, and I stop short. Freya’s voice is familiar, but it takes me a moment to place Jamison’s. I’ve only ever known him as a temporary guard and then a soldier, as a man who lost his arm in battle and watched the army from Syhl Shallow destroy his entire regiment, but was willing to put a uniform on again to serve Rhen.

The slow, gentle murmur of his voice takes me by surprise. Clearly Freya knows him as more than that. I hesitate in my doorway, and a small smile finds my face. She mentioned Jamison on the night of Rhen’s party, but their low voices make me wonder if there’s more between them than just casual friendship.

I bite my lip and shift to ease into my room silently, not wanting to disturb them. Things here are so precarious, so uncertain, and it gives me hope to remember that love can bloom anywhere, even in the darkest times.

But then I hear Freya’s breath hitch, and Jamison says, “I must. I must.”

She’s crying? Her door is open, so I grab hold of the doorjamb and rap my knuckles against the frame. They snap apart, but not so quickly that I don’t notice that they were pressed up against each other, Jamison’s hand stroking the hair down her back.

Freya swipes at her eyes hurriedly. Tendrils of her blond hair have pulled loose from the ribbons holding it back from her face, and her cheeks are mottled red. There’s a damp spot on the shoulder of Jamison’s uniform, but he stands at attention when he sees me. “My lady,” he says.

“Oh, my lady,” says Freya. She swipes at her eyes again. “Forgive me.”

“Don’t apologize.” I hesitate in the doorway. “Are you all right?”

“Of course. Of course.” But her breath hitches again.

My eyes sweep the room, looking for the children, but they’re not here. “Are the kids all right?”

“Oh! Yes. Dahlia and Davin are down in the kitchens. The baby is next door, asleep.” She takes a long breath and smooths her hands along her skirts. At her side, Jamison is silent and stoic. I can’t read anything from his expression.

“Oh,” I say. “Well. Good.”

I say nothing. They say nothing.

Suddenly this is all kinds of awkward.

“I heard—well, you were crying. I just—you know what? Never mind. Not my business.” I back away from the doorway. “I’ll just—I’ll be in my room.”

I feel like such an idiot. My face is hot, and I close myself into my chambers. I peel the bracers from my arms and unbuckle the sword belt, then toss my weapons and armor into a pile by the fireplace to let the sweaty leather dry. I sigh and attempt to unlace the boned linen corset that makes a good replacement for a sports bra—but it ties behind my back. I’ve never understood why so many clothes here require help to get in and out of. Some days, I’d give anything for a T-shirt.

My door whispers open, and I don’t turn, because my face is still burning. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You were crying. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Freya’s cool fingers brush mine away, and she takes up the lacings along my spine herself, but she doesn’t say anything. I can’t tell if she’s mad or if she’s still emotional and she wants some space.

“I can do this myself,” I say quietly. “If you need to be with Jamison right now.”

Her fingers jerk the laces hard, pulling the fabric so tight against my rib cage that I can’t even draw breath to cry out.

“No, my dear,” says a vicious voice that is definitely not Freya’s. “I think I need to be with you.”

“Lilith.” I can barely gasp the name. I struggle against her hold, trying to turn, but she pulls the lacings even tighter. A T-shirt would rip from this pressure, but this corset was made to last. My ribs feel like they’re going to snap in a second. I try to inhale, but I can barely squeak in a breath. I scrabble at my neckline, but there’s no give.

I just tossed all my weapons in the corner. Like an idiot. I have to swallow this panic. I have to think.

Luckily, I’ve got months of training with Zo to fall back on. I throw an elbow back, and I’m gratified to hear Lilith grunt, but she doesn’t let go.

Instead, it feels like her fingers sink through the corset into the skin of my back, and all I feel is fire. Ice. A million needles through my spine. I can’t see. I can’t breathe.

“You see?” she says, and her voice is like a roar and a whisper all at once. “I don’t need to kill you to control him. I just need to leave reminders of what I can do.”

I’m flat on the floor. She’s on my back. I think I’ve vomited from the pain. I can’t tell. I can taste blood and bile. Everything hurts, and I’m sobbing against the marble.

“I know,” she croons. “I’m truly terrible.”

I can’t answer. My thoughts won’t organize enough for speech. I thought I knew pain. I thought I was so fierce and brave, and now I’m crying on the floor.

“You stand beside him,” Lilith hisses, “as if he is worthy of it. As if he has not caused a thousand harms himself.”

I grit my teeth against the blinding pain. I know what Rhen did to his people, but I know he did all of it while he was a vicious monster created by Lilith herself. He blames himself for all of it, but he shouldn’t. “He—he never—he never—”

“Oh no?”

My vision goes dark, but the pain lingers. Suddenly my thoughts fill with a memory: Grey and Tycho chained to the wall in the courtyard, torches flickering in the darkness, shadows dancing as Rhen gave an order. A line of fire traces across my back like the bite of a lash, and I try to cry out, but my voice is ragged and broken.

“I’m sure you think I caused that, too,” she says viciously, and her breath is hot against my ear. I flinch away.

“I had nothing to do with this one,” she says, and the image changes, becoming a room here in the castle. Rhen is standing by a table in his chambers, buckling his jacket into place, but he looks … different. I can’t quite put my finger on why.

“My guards will call for your carriage,” he’s saying, and his voice is cold, dispassionate. “I’ve sent for tea.”

“But, Your Highness …”

I can’t see the woman who’s speaking, but I know the voice. It’s Lilith. I’m seeing him through her eyes. From the angle, she must be looking at him from the bed.

This must be before the curse. I’m terrified and fascinated.

The scene continues. A light knock raps at the door, and a young servant enters carrying a tray of tea and delicacies. Rhen completely ignores him, and the boy looks like he’s used to being ignored by royalty. He eases the platter onto the table, but when he tips the pot to fill a cup, it’s slightly off center, and the cup falls, shattering on the marble floor. Tea splashes everywhere, including Rhen’s boots.

The boy flinches and glances at Rhen. “For-forgive me, Your High—”

“Guards.” Rhen doesn’t look at him.

A guard appears in the doorway, and I’m startled to realize it’s Grey. Again, like Rhen, he looks slightly different. Not younger, just … not the same. Maybe it’s the expression in their eyes or the weight of their presence—or maybe it’s something they haven’t lost or earned yet.

Before Grey has a chance to say anything, Rhen says, “Get him out of here. Make him regret that.” He gives a nod to Lilith and says, “Farewell, my lady.”

Then he turns for the door.

Grey’s eyes are cold. He grabs the cringing boy’s arm.

Scary Grey.

At my back, present-day Lilith whispers, “They’re all beasts, aren’t they?”

The vision goes dark, and I’m returned to the pain so swiftly that I cry out.

Lilith’s fingers twist, and I feel like my bones are being pried through my skin.

“You think I am the villain,” she says, and pain licks through my veins. “You think I am the monster. But who made the choices here, Harper?”

I choke on a sob. I’m still facedown on the marble, and my tears gather on the floor.

“Rhen’s family killed my people,” she says. “And you blame me for wanting revenge? You see for yourself, he was a monster before I ever arrived.”

“No,” I gasp. “No—you’re the—”

“I expect to see military movement, Princess,” she hisses. “I expect to see him yielding to me, not to you. Am I understood?”

Her fingers jerk. Spots flare in my vision, and the marble beneath me turns black.

For a moment, I think I’ve passed out, but no, the floor has changed. I’m lying on asphalt. I try to lift my head, and I see the pale gray concrete of a curb, and the rusted slats of a storm drain. A candy bar wrapper is stuck there, the edges fluttering in the wind.

I’m back in Washington, DC.

“No!” I cry. If she leaves me here, I have no way to get back. No way to help Rhen. No way to—

A car horn blares, and I whip my head around. An SUV is headed right for me.

I scream, and it vanishes. I’m back in my chambers, the scream echoing in my throat.

“Remember,” Lilith says, her breath hot on my ear. “I can control you just as easily as I can control him.”

“No,” I shout. I brace myself against her weight, as if I can throw her off. “No.”

A hand seizes on my shoulder, turning me over. I surge upright, swinging wildly, screaming in rage, clawing with my hands.

“My lady. My lady.” The male voice forces me still, and I realize why my fingers were clutching at leather and buckles instead of skin and silk.

Dustan is kneeling beside me, and my fingers have a death grip on his armor. She didn’t break my spine. She didn’t break anything at all. My back feels wet, though I can’t tell if it’s sweat or blood, and my abdomen is achy and sore. I’m trembling so hard that my teeth clack together. My breathing is loud and panicked in the space between us.

Dustan and I aren’t friends, but we’re not enemies either. I can’t make my fingers let go. Instead, I put my face against his armor and cry.

I don’t know how long I sit there, but it’s not long. Rhen can’t find me like this. He’s already terrified that Lilith is going to return. I unclench my fingers and push back from Dustan to find that he’s not alone. Freya and Jamison stand behind him, and there’s another guard in the doorway.

I wipe my eyes. “Am I bleeding?”

Dustan searches my face, then casts a glance down at my body. “No.” He pauses. “The enchantress was here?”

“Yes.” I wish I could stop shaking. Freya gasps. Her hand clutches at Jamison’s.

Dustan begins to straighten, inhaling like he’s going to issue an order to the guard who’s waiting in the hall, and I know—I just know—he’s going to call for the prince. Rhen will absorb my panic and fear, the way he always does, and he’ll allow it to double his own. Lilith will continue to control him.

I scramble to my feet and ignore the spots flaring in my vision to grab hold of Dustan’s arm. “Commander.” My voice sounds like I’m speaking through gravel. “You can’t tell Rhen.”

He looks at my hand, and his voice drops. “My lady. I cannot keep this a secret—”

“You can. Dustan, you must.”

He stares at me, and his expression says he absolutely cannot.

“Please.” I dig my fingers into his bracer. Grey would never have yielded, but Dustan might. “Please, Dustan. She wants—she wants him to put his army in action. She wants to force his hand. We can’t let her. Not like this.”

His eyes are hard, and I don’t think he’ll agree, but then Jamison takes a step forward. “If this enchantress wants military action, she will have it. His Highness has ordered forces to the border.”

I blink up at him. “He has?”

Freya nods. Her cheeks are still pink from crying, but her tears are dry. “Yes,” she says. “Jamison is part of the regiment assigned to the mountain pass.”

I glance between them. I want this to be good news, because Lilith will be abated—but it’s not. The regiment assigned to the mountain pass will be the first to encounter troops from Syhl Shallow.

And possibly the first to die.

As always, everything is so complicated here.

I can’t think. I can’t think.

I rub my hands over my face and take a breath. “Dustan. Please. Don’t you see that she’s trying to use me to manipulate him?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Then we can’t let her—”

“I also know that he rules Emberfall.” He pauses. “And you do not.”

“Look,” I say. “We’re going to Silvermoon. He’s trying to bolster support, right? If we tell him this happened, he might not go at all.” My insides still ache, and I try not to think about how much it’s going to hurt to ride a horse in an hour. I try not to think about the fact that Rhen might never let me leave my chambers if he hears what Lilith just did.

I try not to think about what Rhen did to Grey and Tycho when he felt betrayed. Lilith just showed me how Rhen acted when a boy spilled tea in his chambers. I’ve never seen Rhen do anything like that now, but I know there’s a sliver of that inside him still.

I try not to think of how Rhen will react if Dustan keeps something from him.

“Let me tell him,” I offer. “Just … let me wait until when we get back.” Dustan still doesn’t look like he’s going to concede, so I say, “It’s just a few hours! What’s the difference?”

He looks at me steadily for a long moment, then sighs. I’m not sure if that’s assent or exasperation, but either way, he doesn’t tell the other guardsman to fetch Rhen. He takes a step back and turns for the door. “You had best prepare, my lady. His Highness will be ready to leave shortly.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” I start yanking at the bodice ribbon that will probably need to be cut free after Lilith pulled it so tight. “Freya, will you—”

“Yes, my lady. Right away.” She pulls away from Jamison, giving him a long look.

Wait. I didn’t mean to stop whatever was between them. “No. I’m sorry. You can finish … whatever.”

Jamison shakes his head. “I should return to my regiment, my lady.” He holds tight to Freya’s hand before she can pull away, and he bows to her, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll send word when I can.”

Then he’s gone, and her eyes are welling.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You and Jamison … I didn’t know.”

“I hardly know myself,” she says. “We’ve only just been talking.” She brushes the tears off her cheeks and squares her shoulders. “Forgive me. We should—”

I step forward and wrap her up in a hug. My insides ache and pull and I have to force Lilith’s effects out of my head, and I hold on to my friend.

Freya’s not like Rhen. She lets me hold her, and her face presses into my shoulder—but only for a moment. She begins to pull away. “I am being inappropriate—”

“I’ve cried all over you a dozen times,” I say. “I can return the favor.”

That makes her breath hitch, and she says, “I’ve lost so much, and I didn’t want to dare hope … oh, I can’t think about it.” She draws back. “Did you hear the commander? You must dress.”

I was right about the corset. We have to cut the ribbon to get it free. We’re both quiet and contemplative as she helps me into the pieces of a fancier gown, then urges me onto a stool in front of a mirror to try to tame my curls.

In the mirror, her eyes are still red and swollen.

I hate this. All of it. Every time I get a five-minute break from worry, something new pops up to smack me in the face. Or stab me in the back or whatever Lilith did.

“I can ask him to keep Jamison here,” I say softly. “To assign him to—”

“No,” she says curtly. “And he would not want that anyway. He considers it a great honor to protect Emberfall.” She pauses. “As do I.”

“I know.” I swallow. “Me too.”

Her hand settles on my shoulder, and she gives it a squeeze. “I know. Your bravery now is proof. Your bravery every day is proof.”

I put a hand up to rest over hers, and I squeeze in return. My eyes suddenly feel damp. “You once told me that when the world seems darkest, there exists the greatest opportunity for light.”

She nods at me in the mirror, but then her eyes fill again. “Sometimes I worry that the light can be doused too easily.”

“Then we just light it again,” I say, even though I’m not sure this is true. But I can’t look at her tearstained face and say anything else. Again, I’m reminded of my mother, how she stood by my father for so long, even though he kept making the wrong decisions. I think of Rhen, and I wonder if I’m doing the same thing. My voice almost wavers and I have to steady it. “We light it again and again, as many times as we have to.”

Her eyes meet mine, and she takes a steadying breath. “Yes, my lady.”

A hand raps on the door frame, and I turn, expecting Rhen, but instead, I find Zo there, fully dressed in the leather armor worn by the Royal Guard. I have to do a double take. She looks severe and stoic, and I straighten. “Zo?”

Something in her severe countenance shifts, and she cracks a small smile. “His Highness hired me.”

I almost fall off my stool. “You’re back in the Royal Guard?”

“Ah … no. I’m to be your guard. And only yours.”

I want to tackle her with hugs, but now that she’s in a uniform, it probably wouldn’t be seemly. I squeeze Freya’s hand again. “See?” I say to her. “Another light.”