Crown of Blood and Ruin: A dark fairy tale romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 3)

For over a week our people worked clearing the kingdom of lingering threats. Most Timorans put up little resistance. Others did not view the idea of losing their serfs and Night Folk trade kindly. They were brought to the cells in the pits of Ravenspire where they would await Arvad and Lilianna’s official re-ascension to the throne for their punishment.

If they opted to raise blades, they were promptly shown the strength of our warriors.

Valen spent time with Dagar, Halvar, and other warriors, the same as he once did. Kari, a former Raven, was the first Timoran to become an Ettan knight. Halvar had been rife in inappropriate promises on ways he’d prove how proud he was later that night.

Arvad and Lilianna had not doled out positions in their court. I guessed they planned to wait until their crowns were officially replaced upon their heads.

I helped Tova and Niklas as they aided our healers with the wounded. The Alver Folk were entertaining. Thieves, perhaps a little villainous, but good at heart. I did not want them to leave. Not even the Nightrender, who’d unintentionally shown a different side at times.

When the young ones returned, the one Ash and Hanna raced to had been the Nightrender. Hanna did not speak, but waved her fingers in smooth gestures, and I caught the Nightrender’s smile as he responded, wordlessly moving his hands.

He cared for his guild.

And I agreed with Herja. He avoided her.

I did not believe it was because he didn’t want to discuss Hagen, almost like he feared it, or was still considering the right words to use.

“I don’t know anything,” Tova said when I asked after a week. The Nightrender had dodged Gunnar’s questions, Herja’s, but when Laila asked if he knew her daj, the man practically fled from the hall. Tova added a few cloth wraps to a healing wound on a warrior’s shoulder. “He does act strangely at the name, I’ll say that. But I do not know much of his deep past, to be honest.”

“I thought your guild was family?”

“Well, my family can keep their bleeding noses out of certain parts of my life.” Tova snorted and locked me in her strange eyes. “I’ve known the Nightrender since childhood, but before that, he seems keen to keep his youngest turns to himself. I don’t press. I don’t need to know everything to know I trust him with my life.”

His guild would never give up his secrets, but I could agree with Tova on one thing. Perhaps he was a crooked kind of man, one who made deals, and robbed, but I, too, trusted the Nightrender and the Alvers of the east.

At nights we spent time in the great hall of Ravenspire dining, laughing, reminiscing. Arvad and Lilianna wanted every detail of the lives of their children, of mine. They were fascinated by the intricacies of Valen’s curse, pained, too, but Sol and Herja teased their younger brother endlessly to learn he’d once donned the fine clothes of a Timoran trader.

“In truth, he was not half bad at the trade,” Tor said. Perhaps Torsten Bror was the most changed. By the gods, I’d never seen his eyes as bright as they were, nor witnessed so many smiles on his face.

“Thank you.” Valen tipped his drinking horn at his friend, the other hand possessively on my leg beneath the table. “I earned my position as negotiator for the stunning Kvinna on merit alone.”

“True. A curse and fate witch had little to do with it,” Halvar said.

“Merit. Cunning. Pure skill, my friend.”

Arvad grinned. “I care more that you were able to work together to bring us all here.”

Halvar chuckled again. “I think Elise might have a different thought about Valen’s ability to work with her, and anyone for that matter.”

Valen kicked him under the table.

I traced the edge of Valen’s ear. “You were insufferable for a time.”

“My brother? No, it can’t be true,” Herja said.

We laughed, stirring Laila from her sleep against her mother’s chest. Her children had hardly left her side, as if these were the moments they’d used to make up for the turns kept distanced. Gunnar’s arms were healing in pink scars, but he never allowed any Alver or healer to fade them completely. The boy had found a kinship with some of the folk from the east, and they, in turn, were teaching him of his magic.

“Insufferable? Or a stunning hero?” Valen kissed the side of my head. “Trying to protect you by keeping a distance is a thing a hero would do.”

“Forgive me,” Halvar said. “I wholly disagree, My Prince. You were simply stubborn and locked in a piss of a mood.”

“Agreed.” Tor lifted his own drinking horn. “He was like a violent child the more he tried to stay away.”

“Torsten,” I said, tilting my head. “Let us speak of moods, my friend. The first time I saw you smile, I’m almost certain, was yesterday.”

That drew more laughter. Tor rolled his eyes, cheeks red, as Sol draped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Arvad rose, holding his hand out for Lilianna. He smiled at the faces at the table. “There is nothing greater than seeing you all at this table once more. But tomorrow is an important day. I suggest you all rest.”

“To the rise of Our King.” Dagar lifted his drinking horn to Arvad. The rest of us followed suit. Arvad offered a small nod and left with Lilianna to their chamber. We all broke away. Alone in our bed, I curled against Valen’s body, holding him close.

With each day that passed, the fear that this would all be torn away started to fade.

“You are perfect as you are.” Valen curled his arms around my waist, pressing slow kisses up the curve of my neck. “No amount of fiddling will make you any more perfect.”

I scoffed, but dropped my fingers from my braid, studying my reflection in the mirror once more. “I don’t know what one wears to a re-coronation of a long-dead king and queen when I am supposed to hand a crown over to said queen.”

“This,” he said, his hand sliding seductively down the curve of my spine. He regarded the pale blue of the dress. “This is exactly what one wears. Though, you could wear nothing—in fact it is my favorite thing you wear—and you would still look perfect. Now, come. We’re needed in the throne room, then we are free to bear half as much responsibility and be feckless lovers until we take our final breath.”

I slipped my fingers through his, grinning. “Your arguments are quite compelling, Night Prince. How can I stand against such a plan?”

“You can’t. Because it is a brilliant plan.” He tugged on my hand and led me out of our rooms toward the hall.

Already the outer courtyard was packed wall-to-wall with our people, Alvers, and those Timorans who’d accepted the fall of their king with grace. I had more than one cousin in the crowd. Calder’s oldest brother, his children, and their mothers. A few of Calder’s sisters, and all of what was left of Zyben’s consorts. Truth be told most of them looked a great deal at ease and had helped assist with some of the surly noble folk who did not want change.

The weak gardens were blooming in new life. Moonvane gleamed in the sunlight, but the grass was brighter, the trees fuller. This was the Etta I’d read about. A vibrant, rich land filled with fury and power.

In front of the dais, I stood in a line with all three of the Ferus heirs. Herja was stunning in a flowing gown, every bit a princess of Etta. Sol was healthier than I’d ever seen him. His eyes were like gemstones, blue and bright. But Valen still looked a great deal like a king to me. Dressed in their finest clothes, they stood shoulder to shoulder, ready to see their parents once more on the throne.

I squeezed his hand, drawing him to smile down at me. The thrill of this day tightened in my chest. The final step to restoring this kingdom—crowning its rightful king and queen.

Elder Klok was invited to oversee the ceremony yet again. He was one of few who hardly ruffled at the faces of Arvad and Lilianna, then again, he was an odd man who seemed unbothered by even the strangest fury.

Most still gaped at the king and queen like they might disappear should they blink.

Klok held up his hands. “One king and one queen abdicate the crown of Etta, and others rise.” Klok came to me and Valen. We tipped our heads and allowed him to remove the narrow circlets we were asked to wear. Like Timorans, Ettans were keen on their symbolism in ceremony.

Klok carried the circlets to where Arvad and Lilianna kneeled on the dais. He placed them atop their heads. Klok invited them to rise as king and queen. Folk cheered as Arvad and Lilianna faced the crowd, grinning.

Until the king removed the circlet. “It was my honor to serve as your king.”

What was happening?

Lilianna removed her circlet. “It was my honor to serve as your queen.”

“We abdicate our crown.” A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as Arvad stepped off the dais. “To our son and heir, Sol Ferus, the Sun Prince of Etta.”

I watched with wide eyes as Sol smiled at his father and kneeled as Arvad placed the crown on his head.

Valen lifted a brow and glanced at me with a shrug. He seemed pleased. I was pleased. Sol was a skilled fighter, he’d saved us near Ruskig, and he kept a level head. Perhaps Arvad and Lilianna believed it was time.

Did it matter who ruled? She’d told me the land chose them all once, so I supposed not.

Sol rose to another wave of cheers. Tor went to his side, the official prince consort. Folk were taken back, but they accepted him with their cries. With lifted hands, he silenced them. “It was an honor to serve as your king.”

“Sol.” Valen’s hand tightened in mine.

The Sun Prince lifted the circlet off his head. “But it is for the benefit of Etta that the next in line take the throne. I abdicate to my sister and heir, Herja Ferus.”

A groove formed between my brows as Herja lowered to one knee, allowing her brother to place the crown on her head. Valen’s lips pinched together. He looked ahead, and I didn’t understand his disquiet.

With a cautious wave of cheers, riddled in the same confusion I carried, the people accepted Herja as she rose off her knees.

She smiled, arms raised. “It has been an honor to serve as your queen.”

“Dammit, Herja,” Valen hissed before she could finish. “Stop.”

Now I understood.

My heart raced deep in my chest as Herja faced her younger brother and lifted the circlet off her head.

“But,” she said softly, “the true king and queen of Etta stand before us.”

“No,” Valen said. “I was not born for this.”

I blinked through the stun to Lilianna who returned it with a smile. I had a strong inclination this scheme was planned without including the Night Prince and his wife.

Herja rested her hand on Valen’s arm. “You were born for this, Brother. Proven on the battlefield, this land chose you and Elise.” She faced the people again. “I abdicate to my brother and sister, my heirs, the Night Prince of Etta, and Lady Elise.”

Klok handed her the second circlet.

Valen locked eyes with me. If I refused, he would step away. He would leave the throne to Gunnar, no mistake.

I pressed a kiss to his knuckles, smiling through my nerves. “What do you say, My King?”

His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I will be whatever you ask.”

I gave him a gentle nod. Did I wish for the throne? Not particularly, but I could not deny the burn in my veins. As if some unseen thing whispered to my soul that this is where the path of fate led us. To this ultimate end.

We knelt and allowed Klok and Herja to rest the circlets, once again, atop our heads. A few gasps echoed over the courtyard when the ground shuddered. Valen shook his head, letting me know he’d not used fury.

When we rose off our knees, the people had lowered to theirs. Valen and I raised our linked hands to cheers.

The gardens burst with more life. As if I’d stepped into an impossible world, the kingdom of Etta welcomed its king and queen.