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

As a girl I lived in a fantasy where I would take vows in the gardens of Ravenspire. Honey cakes, mulled wines, sharp ales, and savory pheasants would stack in mountains of food. Too much to eat.

I’d wear a gown sewn in imported silks with sea pearls in intricate designs. My match would be handsome, strong, a warrior desired by everyone. The whole event would make me the envy of every woman in Mellanstrad.

A fantasy.

My vows as Kvinna would’ve never been grander than Runa’s. I’d never have a warrior. A pious nobleman would be my match. A loveless, painful union to benefit the royal Timoran house. Feelings, love, none of it would matter. I’d be expected to look away as my husband took consorts, visited brothels, loved everyone but me.

But what would there have been to complain about?

I’d live in sprawling manors. Have lands to my name. Attend galas dripping in those sea pearls.

In the royal longhouse, tucked away in Ruskig, without pearls and fine gowns, I smiled as the hall bustled in folk preparing bitter roots and a wild boar over the spit. Siv and Kari braided my hair. I scrubbed dirt and blood away from my fingernails.

My gown was made of handspun wool, dyed a light blue, and simple. No jewels or jade.

But the moonvane blossoms pinned in my hair glittered like silver stars. The forged iron bracelets around my wrist were in the shape of sea serpents and vines. A symbol of the strength of the Ferus line.

This day was nothing like my childhood fantasies.

It was grander in every way. From the simple meal to the fidelity of the man who’d take me as his by the end.

I scrubbed my fingers harder, anxious to begin.

When Valen made the declaration, I soon discovered taking vows during a war meant hurrying any formalities along. A little over a week later it was arranged, and the square cleared for the vows.

We’d take one day, one afternoon to celebrate, and tomorrow we’d return to the table with strategy and battles to wage.

“It’s the best we can do,” Siv said, holding her hands away from my hair.

“Exactly the words every bride wants to hear on the day she takes vows.” Kari snickered and added a final blossom to the long, detailed braid down my back.

“There are no pretenses here. We were drawing blood from each other yesterday. We do not do fine, dainty things,” said Siv with a grin. She met my gaze in the silver mirror. “But you look exactly like the queen we need, Elise.”

I rolled my eyes and tied the end of the plaits with a gold ribbon, edged in chips of sapphires.

“From Junius?” Siv asked, helping to tie the final knot.

“Yes.” I grinned. “Her letter was strongly worded with her opinions about us not giving her time to return for the vows.”

Kari laughed. “I’m surprised she’d want to return. This land held her prisoner.”

“No,” Siv said. “She was taken by her own folk in the East and traded here. To me it sounds like the Eastern Kingdom is as brutal as this one.”

“I promised I would not ask her to ever return here unless it were a dire need,” I told them. “Still, it was kind of her to send the gift.”

“Pity Ravenspire hasn’t sent anything. Ari and Mattis made sure to send their notice first.” Siv winked as she secured a soft stole of fox fur around my shoulders. Her eyes misted when she took me in. She clasped my hands. “There. Perfect.”

I pulled her into a tight embrace, the burn of tears stinging my eyes. “Thank you, Siv. For always being a true friend.”

She buried her face against my shoulder and tightened her hold on my waist. To Siv, she had not always been a true friend. Sent to me as an Agitator assassin. But she never killed me, never tried. She was protective and fought for me every step of the journey to this moment.

She freed a shaky breath. “I wish Mavs were here.”

“All gods, she’d be chattering nonstop, wouldn’t she?” We laughed together and pulled away. After a moment my smile faded. “I miss her too.”

Kari let us have the time, silently cleaning up the room until a heavy-handed knock thudded against the doorjamb.

Mattis peeked around the fur curtain. “Ready?”

Siv drew in a sharp breath, her eyes roving over him with a heated stare. Mattis didn’t seem to mind in the least. I laughed but could understand the feeling. “You look handsome, my friend. I think Siv would agree.”

“She would,” Siv whispered.

Mattis rocked on his toes. Dressed in a fine black tunic, his beard trimmed into dark stubble, and his hair combed back. Even the dagger strapped across his shoulders and the seax blade on his waist gleamed brightly, polished and buffed.

I linked my arm with Mattis, smiling. “Siv, you’ll need to wait until I’m through with him.”

She clicked her tongue. “Then begone. Hurry. Our king will start to worry you’ve changed your mind.”

“Or she will shove me aside simply to get her hands on you,” I whispered to Mattis.

He clenched his jaw to keep from laughing and led me through the longhouse.

Siv and Kari stayed close, but out in the hall the bustle stopped. The women and men preparing the feast paused and dipped their chins. My face heated. It had been so long since I’d been treated as a royal, I’d forgotten how I hated the attention.

Outside, a cart awaited to drive us to the square. Blossoms draped over the sides, doubtless to hide the stains of blood and mud, but it was the best we had. No hansom cabs. No fine coaches. I’d take the muddy cart over them without question.

A pathway sprinkled in lilies, moonvane, and rose petals carved through the crowds of people all the way to the square.

Mattis smiled and squeezed my hand before helping me onto the front bench of the cart. Stieg controlled the reins. He winked as I nestled close to him to make room for Mattis on my other side, then gathered the leather harnesses on the two mares. “Ready, Elise?”

“Everyone keeps asking me that.” I closed my eyes, the sun warming my cheeks. “Hells, I’m so ready. I’ve been ready for this day long before he was a king. Get a move on, Stieg, or I’m walking.”

He scoffed and cracked the reins. With a jolt the cart moved forward. A wave of folk lowered to their knees, then followed us. Stieg kept the cart rumbling at an impossibly slow pace. My knee bounced. My stomach backflipped.

Above us banners of the Ferus seal and small lanterns dangled from tree limbs. It could’ve been my own excitement, but it seemed the moonvane glistened in sharper silver, with larger petals than before.

When I thought my heart might snap through my ribs if we didn’t move faster, the cart rounded a corner, and we met the end of the pathway. My breath stilled in my chest.

At the square border an archway of colorful berries and ribbons marked the end of the path.

Beneath the archway stood Valen.

He’d kept his eyes on the ground, shifting on his feet, until the cart came into sight. The king lifted his eyes, and if I could bottle the smile on his face into a memory that would never fade, I’d cross all the kingdoms to find the magic to do it.

Tradition insisted the partner vowing into the royal line walk to meet the blood king or queen. But Valen Ferus was not one for following rules or traditions.

The instant the cart rolled to a stop, the king abandoned the archway and hurried to the side. Mattis purposely stood in his way, determined to serve his role as my escort. “Your future husband is crowding me, Elise.”

“I am your king and want you to move,” Valen grumbled.

“Today I serve the queen,” Mattis said, taking my hand. “By the hells, you’ll touch her in a few moments. I’m supposed to give her hand to you. Do it right, my impatient king, or do not do it.”

I laughed loudly when Valen reluctantly took a step back. We had a rather strange kingdom, where Valen cared less about formalities than he did about loyalty. No king I ever knew would allow his people to speak to him in such a way, but most of his inner council did without a second thought.

Mattis held out his hand. “Lady Elise.”

I ignored his hand and hugged him the same as I hugged Siv. “You are a true friend, Mattis.”

He wrapped his thick arms around me, voice low. “As are you, My Queen.”

With a smile, Mattis took my hand and turned us toward Valen. I met his eyes; a blur of tears distorted his beautiful face. He looked like a king. The light in his eyes caused the darkness to shine like a starry night. A heady hint of pine spice and woodsmoke on his skin drew me closer. Instead of his Blood Wraith axes, he wore a blacksteel sword on his hip, and on his wrists were the same iron bracelets as mine.

“You are beautiful.” Valen lifted my knuckles to his lips, eyes never leaving mine. “I have wanted this since I first met you, Elise Lysander.”

“Liar.”

“Ah, you want the truer, less romantic version. Fine. I have wanted this day since I realized the woman I was using to break a curse had stolen my heart, and I suddenly cared a great deal if she lived. Better?”

I laughed and went to kiss him but was stopped by an arm that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

“No.” Halvar glared at us both. “Not until the end. Gods, do either of you know how to do a vow? Go. Walk forward and we will be done with it.”

Valen kissed my hand again, then laced my arm through his. A hum of energy, from fury or the race of my pulse filled the space between us. My body trembled in anticipation when we stepped beneath the archway and into the square.

On either side of the arch, two women draped our shoulders in fur cloaks, then painted runes on both our foreheads.

Valen covered my hand on his arm with his other hand. We shared a look, one of meaning, one rife in excitement, in desire.

Together we stepped into the sunlight, eyes locked on the dais where Elder Klok stood, dressed in a black pelt and a bear head hood. The path was lined by our people. Herbs were tossed at our feet in blessings. Hands laced small bones and wooden runes on our clothing as we took the slow, steady steps to our future.

At the end of the path, Tor stepped out on Valen’s side, Siv on mine. With a nod from Klok, we both bent a knee and our friends placed circlets of silver on our heads.

“Rise,” Klok said softly.

My throat tightened as Valen helped me back to my feet. I didn’t know if we were supposed to step away from each other, but I didn’t care. I squeezed all my nerves into his hand and remained at his shoulder.

Klok laced his fingers in front of his body and looked between us. “Ettan vows are distinct and simple. But fiercely meaningful. I urge you both to hear each word and keep it in your heart until your last breath.” He faced Valen first. “Valen, son of Arvad, son of Lilianna, King of Etta, by your mind and your heart you have chosen to walk this life with one who will be a helpmate, friend, lover, and companion. Do you make this choice of your own desire?”

“Yes,” Valen said with the dip of his chin.

Klok faced me next. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t want to miss a word. “Elise, I have thought a great deal of what to say here. By your own word, you have denied any blood family—”

“Daughter of Mara,” I whispered. “I am the daughter of Mara.”

Valen tightened his hold on my hand.

Klok smiled with a nod. “Elise, daughter of Mara, consort and liberator of the King of Etta, by your mind and your heart you have chosen to walk this life with one who will be a helpmate, friend, lover, and companion. Do you make this choice of your own desire?”

“Absolutely. Yes.” A rumble of laughter went through the crowd.

Klok gestured for our hands. He maneuvered us to stand in front of each other. Valen’s eyes were bright and glassy. I took a step closer, and still felt too distant. Klok laid a linen over our hands with words of the final, sealing vow of Ettan ceremonies.

In Lilianna’s journal I read the words once. Now, about to read them for myself, I thought my heart might swell three sizes too big.

Valen cleared his throat and said, “Elise, daughter of Mara, consort and liberator of my life, you are the choice of my heart. I vow to serve you, to love you, to honor you, to be your loyal companion for life and into the Otherworld.”

He added another kiss to my knuckles.

My knees danced under my gown as if my legs begged me to run to him, to touch him, kiss him.

Only a little longer. “Valen, son of Arvad, son of Lilianna, My King, you are, and have always been, the choice of my heart. I vow to serve you, to love you, to honor you, to be your loyal companion for life and into the Otherworld.”

“You changed it,” he whispered. “Unfair.”

I smiled, starting to bounce on my toes, moments away from screeching at Elder Klok to end the ceremony. I had a king to kiss.

Klok offered a toothy grin and looked to the crowd. “By the gods, I present King Valen Ferus and, our new queen, Elise Lysander Ferus.” Klok leaned into me and whispered, “Now, My Queen. You may touch him now.”

I needed no more of a nudge than that. My arms wrapped around Valen’s neck, he trapped my face, and kissed me. Hard. Each taste of him left me greedy for more. I had loved him since he was Legion Grey, the Blood Wraith, and the Night Prince.

No mistake I loved him more now.

I pulled away, tears on my cheeks, smiling as the crowd cheered. He kissed me quickly a few more times, a bright, genuine grin on his face. This moment, this was what I would hold to in the days to come. Days that would be trying, but in this moment I had never been happier.

Valen Ferus was my husband.

We lifted our joined hands to our people, and they lowered to their knees.

In my mind nothing could dampen the moment, until I caught sight of a group of men near the back of the square. Stave, and others. They lowered to their knees, slowly, reluctantly. But I could not mistake the loathing in their eyes as they looked at me.

Their new, Timoran queen. And they hated me.