Court of Ice and Ash: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 2)

HALVAR WAS BEING HELD at the fury quarries.

At least the latest report from Ari’s scouts was an air fae had been taken there. It answered the question on which of the Shade had been taken.

Ari grew more pleased at the notion of having rare fury in Ruskig. I grew more irritated. The strength or talent of Halvar’s fury didn’t matter—he did.

And we were running out of time.

The journey was over a day’s ride on horseback, and nearly three on foot. There was no telling what would become of the playful Shade in that time.

I didn’t wish either Tor or Halvar to be taken, but Tor had such a disposition, I was certain he’d slaughter anyone who touched him. Halvar would try to befriend them.

A grimace tightened my face. He’d survive. He’d be fine. What had Valen told me? Halvar was the son of the first knight. He was bred to fight, even if he did so with a grin.

I couldn’t believe otherwise.

Strange how important not only Valen had become, but the Guild of Shade too.

Tor and Halvar had been cursed as much as Valen. Their part was, perhaps, more gut-wrenching. Being forced to slice and brutalize their brother to satisfy the need for blood was a cruel kind of torture all its own.

I secured a knife into the weapon belt Frey had given me. Anger burned, slow and deep, thinking of Halvar being harmed at the hands of Castle Ravenspire again.

They’d pay.

If they didn’t know who Valen was yet, they never would. Not from Halvar, at least. He’d never give up his prince. But his silence would prolong his suffering, and meant we needed to move. Reservations on seeing Valen again, in being there when he denied Ari, when he denied me once again, needed to be pushed aside for the sake of Halvar.

I dipped my hands into a clay basin. The cool morning had chilled the water enough it cut with cold. I splashed my face, stirring my senses awake. My fingers twisted my damp hair into a tight braid.

Ari had offered a small hut near his longhouse. The walls were made of tree limbs woven into mats, then packed in damp moss, sod, and mud. As if it could not help but spread, some of the walls were dotted in small blooms of moonvane. I grinned and stroked one of the silky, silver petals, then tugged on boots, a size too big.

In the corner, a small stove had been shaped out of river stone and a tricky fae came in the night before and warmed the stones until the hut heated pleasantly. Not a pyre fae like Tor, but it was fascinating to watch fury brighten the stones into glowing embers all the same.

I had a bed and mattress padded with furs and dried grass. A few clay pots, and a kettle for dandelion tea.

I’d been given my own place amongst the Night Folk, and I still could hardly believe it.

Siv pulled back the bearskin over the doorway. “Elise, we’re ready to leave.”

“Coming.”

Siv reached for a bowl made of bone. In it, Frey had mixed beeswax with charcoal into a sticky kohl. She took a frayed end of a stick and dipped it into the bowl. “May I?”

Tension squeezed in my chest, but more from excitement than worry. The charcoal paint was used for warriors. How long had I yearned to find a place in this land? Among the nobility of my family and bloodlines, I had no standing. No voice. Here, though, I could embrace the ever-present urge to be true to the boil of my blood; the call to fight for this land that was not truly mine.

Siv brushed the frayed end of the twig over my forehead, down the bridge of my nose. My chin. When she finished, I painted her face. Long strokes over her bronze skin. Protection. Strength. Jagged lines for a bit of malice.

Perhaps we weren’t going to war. Then again, perhaps we were.

Outside of Ruskig there was no telling what awaited us.

“Finished,” I whispered and returned the bowl to the small table. Only the haze of dawn lighted the outside. No shadows of guards, no Ari. Still, I lowered my voice to a harsh whisper. “What will happen when Ari discovers the Blood Wraith is no ordinary man?”

Siv’s eye twitched. “I don’t know. To me, it seems Prince Valen is not revealing his fury. We would have heard by now. Odds are no one will recognize him as anything but common Night Folk.”

“Ari already suspects he is more than common because of the attack on my lands. Do you think he could’ve caused the darkness?”

“Sagas say Prince Valen is a Bender. Likely the first one in centuries. Whoever infected the clan, they do not have earth fury.”

I took a bit of comfort in her response. Valen broke the earth, molded clay, and bedrock to his bidding. He could not cause such a disease.

Outside, frost hung in the air. A dry wind prickled at my face, whipping pieces of loose hair against my skin. Horses were packed with quilts, furs, canteens, and ale horns. Mothers with their littles around their skirts bid farewell to fathers, uncles, and brothers.

Night Folk in Ruskig were not those with powerful fury. The raids had watered down magic, but a chill trickled down my spine at the sight of so many fae armed with axes, knives, and daggers. Most with runes and black lines painted across their faces much like mine.

Even with little fury, they would be formidable now that they were rising at long last.

The same could be said for the Ettan folk. Women shaved half their heads. They braided the rest in tight, intricate rows. Their shoulders were bulky with pelts and woolen mantles. Black surrounded men’s eyes. Beards were beaded in bone and silver. Runes tattooed on shorn scalps.

Beaten by Timorans for too long, the Ettans and Night Folk were finding their place. They had always lived in peace together for lifetimes, one half with magic, the other without. Until Timorans stole the land from them all. Now, the folk of Old Etta were taking back their homeland.

I hated how the first thought I had at such a sight was how much I wished Valen could see it.

Across from me, Mattis helped secure a short blade to the body of a roan. He’d cut his hair, so only a ridge of chestnut curls was left in the center of his skull. The carpenter left the beard he’d grown in prison, shorter than other men, but he’d added a chain of bone beads in the center and blackened the lids of his eyes.

He greeted me with a grin, until he noticed Siv. The smile fell and he tugged a black hood over his face, turning away.

She let out a long sigh.

“Give him time,” I said.

“He is living among Agitators, befriending them, yet he shuns me.”

“I know.” I paused, letting a sly twist play on my lips. “But in truth, I’m surprised it matters at all. I thought you didn’t care for Mattis.”

Her eyes flashed with a gleam of frustration. “I don’t.” Siv shouldered her pack again. “Don’t mistake me. I think he’s simply behaving like a child and that is aggravating.”

I grinned as she stomped away.

“Elise.” Ari stood beside a white horse. He’d braided the sides of his golden hair, drawn his eyes in kohl, and wore a thick cloak made of russet fox fur. “You shall ride with me. And might I say how vicious you look. Truly inspiring.”

My face heated at the praise. Truth be told, he could say the same. Ari’s smooth skin was painted in blue and black lines, as if someone dragged their fingers from one temple to the opposite edge of his jaw. He was every bit a warrior as the rest of his clan, and too handsome for his inflated self-importance. No mistake, he would put up a wicked fight to get what he wanted. If only he knew what he wanted was the Night Prince.

I patted the withers of the horse, frowning. “I ride fine. I don’t need a companion.”

“Ah, but we don’t have enough horses, and I’d hate to see those royal feet stumble across such uncharted roads.”

“My royal feet are perfectly capable.”

Ari grinned as he tossed the harness over the horse’s head. “All the same, join me. We will make vastly swifter time, and as such it is not even worth arguing this point.”

I lifted my chin, refusing to let on how grateful I was not to be walking. “Only because you fear I will successfully out-argue you.”

He laughed, lacing his fingers beneath my heel to boost me onto the horse’s back. “I have no doubt, then again I am told I have a convincing tongue myself.”

I scooted back, giving Ari room to settle onto the horse. My pulse quickened when I curled my arms around his waist. He was warm. His skin breathed like the forest, clean with a bit of spice. The stand-in king was aggravating, but intriguing, too.

“Who tells you such a thing?” I asked. “You, to your own reflection?”

Ari glanced over his shoulder. “Frey tells me I ought to cut your tongue from your head, Elise Lysander.”

Unbidden, my arms tightened around him, as if his body would shield me from his words.

Ari laughed and the shudder of it rumbled through my insides. “I told him I rather like your tongue, of course. It stays. But I will say I am gaining many holes in my fragile kingly confidence the more you speak.”

A reluctant smile curled in the corner of my mouth. From a small house several men each carried a stack of wooden spheres. My eyes widened on second glance. “All gods, are those . . . shields?”

“Yes,” Ari said.

With care the men handed out round, wooden shields marked in runes, with bronze or iron points in the center.

“Are we going to war?”

Ari chuckled. “Perhaps.”

“I have not seen such a shield but for . . .”

“Portraits? History books? Yes. It is rather fortunate Night Folk have such incredible lifespans,” Ari said, lightly. “We also seem to have a proclivity to collect.”

“Are you telling me those are from the raids?”

“Why yes, I am.”

My blood burned with a thrill, as if the warrior inside yearned for what was to come. A black shield with white runes was laced to the saddle pack of our horse. I touched the edges gingerly. A war. Was I joining an uprising against my blood?

I’d never truly given time for the thought to sink in before, but I was.

With a wink, Ari urged the horse through the veiled canopy of moonvane and beyond the protected archway of Ruskig. The night was thick and cold. Trees there were thin, weak. After witnessing what fury could do for this land, the beautiful landscapes I’d enjoyed all my life were brittle and dull.

Empty.

I didn’t realize how tightly I held onto Ari’s waist until his hand covered mine. “I do love a woman’s body pressed against my own, but perhaps we could loosen our grip slightly. Unless you are attempting to suffocate me, in which case I applaud you for such a devious attempt at assassination.”

“All gods, are you ever serious?”

“I should hope not.”

I adjusted and loosened my grip as asked, all the while despising how the stand-in king made me laugh.

As we rode into the night, I fought against thoughts of what we might face. The plan was to lure the Blood Wraith with the notion of rescuing Halvar. The tips of my fingers tingled with numbness.

No matter what happened, something told me very soon I would see Valen Ferus again.