Curse of Shadows and Thorns: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 1)

“When did he return?” I added a bit of speed to my step as we darted through the rose gardens.

“I haven’t seen Herr Grey,” Mavie said. “Only the lights, but Tor has returned. Poor man seems ready to sleep for days. If he helped tend to Herr Grey, the man must’ve been terribly ill.”

Two days. What sort of illness came so violently, then ended as quickly?

At the bend, I came to an abrupt stop. The flicker of an oil lamp in the window sent my heart racing. This draw to speak to Legion Grey was irritating. Anger and frustration, worry and desire, all boiled in my brain until I hardly knew which emotion to pick. I drew in a breath, holding it in place, and slowly made my way to the door. My knock went unanswered, though there was movement inside.

“Herr Grey,” I said as firmly as possible. Even still, there was a shudder in my voice and I hated it.

Footsteps shuffled across the floorboards. The scrape of a chair, the wheeze of strained breath. Then, the door clicked and opened just enough to see his shadowed expression. Hair tousled, shirt undone at the top, Legion seemed half put together. The dim light at his back added a grim, sunken look to his dark eyes. Red and irritated lines bloodied the whites of his gaze and added to his pallid expression.

“Kvinna,” Legion said, his voice stronger than he looked. “A pleasant surprise.”

“No need for pretenses, Herr Grey,” I said. “You’re ill. Sit.”

“I’m not ill. I’m afraid this is simply what I look like,” he said with a grim smile.

I rolled my eyes. “Mavie, why do men refuse to show weakness? Legion Grey, sit. Clearly you aren’t well enough to be up and about. I’m quite skilled at herbs and remedies, you know.”

His shoulders slouched, but the sly smirk I’d come to admire found its place in the corner of his mouth. Stubble had grown on his chin. Mismatched from his dark golden hair, but the shadow added to the strength of his jaw and sharp lines of his face. “Always the surprise, Kvinna Elise. A gambler, a woman of study, a swordswoman, and now a healer. Is there anything you don’t do?”

“Yes, lose arguments,” I said and took a deliberate step inside the cottage. “Mavie would you mind sneaking some of the dandelion tea from Cook and bringing it to me?”

Mavie’s mouth parted. “You realize what you’re asking?”

“I promise my spiced cakes to you the rest of the week.”

It took a moment, but soon Mavie offered a curt nod and left us alone.

Legion took a step closer. “Elise, Halvar told me what happened. Forgive me for not being here.”

Nerves coiled hard in my stomach. “We survived.”

“I heard it was a close call.”

“Halvar lies. There was never a moment when I worried.” I dropped my eyes to the floorboards. The way he grinned stirred unrequited heat in my center. “I am glad you were not here, not if you were ill. You’d have been too vulnerable. Now, I’ll say again. Sit.”

“You wound my pride, Kvinna.” Legion pulled a chair from the table and sat with a long sigh. As he leaned against the back, he winced, and I caught a glimpse of an angry red mark trailing down his neck until it disappeared beneath his shirt.

“Hells, are you injured?” Before I could think better of it, I was at his side.

“No,” he said and jerked away.

“I’m not a fool. I can see the welts.”

“They will fade by tonight.” I propped my hands on my hips, glaring. Legion lifted a tentative gaze and the decorum between us died—he rolled his bleeding eyes at me. “Elise, you need not worry. I’ve survived this many times before.”

I took the chair at his side, leaning in until he met my gaze. “Survived what?”

One fist curled over his knee. “An affliction that comes every few weeks.”

“What kind of affliction? You can hardly stand.”

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I grow weak, become quite unlike my normal handsomeness.”

“You think too highly of yourself.”

Weary lines were written in his face when he smiled. “The welts are a mark of the ailment and fade in time.”

“How do you manage with such a thing?”

“I adapt, Kvinna. This will in no way hinder my ability to serve as your negotiator, I assure you.”

“Legion,” I said softly. “I wasn’t worried about your duty. I was worried for you.”

The way he studied me, I guessed he was as surprised as me at the sincerity in my tone. True enough, despite needing to question him—perhaps threaten—regarding Siv, I didn’t cherish the thought of Legion Grey suffering to the point of being unable to stand, unable to even think.

Mavie returned before either of us found anything more to say. Ruffled, she handed me the dried stems and flowers. “That woman is mad. Literally mad, Elise. Don’t bother returning these, you’ll likely disappear into her stock pot if you do.”

I dragged my bottom lip between my teeth, grinning. “Thank you. I’ll request icing on any cakes. I won’t be long here.”

“Am I not staying with you?” Mavie wrinkled her brow.

“Herr Grey and I have much to discuss, unfortunately. I’d rather not force you to sit and listen when now is the perfect time to escape to my chambers before Runa or my mother find something frivolous for you to do.”

“As you say, but I know when I’m intentionally being sent away.” She winked and had this all wrong. Yes, I wanted to be alone with Legion, but to question him not . . . anything else.

She turned away, a knowing grin on her face, and left me again in the quiet of the cottage. Legion had his gaze trained on the table when I returned and asked for a kettle. He said little as I brewed the dried flowers, and there were moments I’d turn and catch him staring. As if he were seeing me for the first time.

Some of the redness had faded in his eyes, and Legion sat straighter by the time I set a cup of murky tea in front of him. What a strange thing, a sickness that faded moment by moment. He inspected the tea with a curl of disgust on his lip, but sipped without complaint.

More silent heartbeats passed, until Legion tugged at the collar of his shirt, skin damp with sweat. “Gods, I’ll never understand how Timorans wear this bleeding garb.”

I scoffed. “What would you rather wear? Being a man of trade and finance, I assumed you’d be rather used to waistcoats and trousers.”

He shifted in his seat. “All I’m saying is if there were another attack, I’d get my arms cut off for being unable to move.”

“Planning on a siege in the cottage, are you?”

“One must always be on guard,” he said. “As we’ve learned.”

My knee started to bounce. Nightmares would come, no doubt from last night. I buried the fear, unwilling to show my own vulnerability to Legion Grey.

“Let’s not talk of last night. Besides, you’re just griping because you’re not well. Drink your tea, by the way.” I nudged the cup he’d slyly inched away from him back in front of his reach.

With a grumble, he took another sip. “I’m fine. In fact, you should feel no obligation to stay.”

“Someone must force you to drink.” I tapped the cup, eyes narrowed. “And I assumed we would need to speak again at some point, being that you are here to violate my privacy and control my life.”

“True. I do look forward to uncovering every private thought.” He hesitated. “So, if we’re not talking about last night—how were the suitors?”

“Awful, if you must know. The only tolerable one was Jarl, I suppose. But I expect it’s because we’ve known each other since childhood.”

“Ah,” Legion said, spinning his cup. “Do I detect a bit of admiration?”

“No, you detect the absence of disgust.”

“Same thing.” Legion leaned back in his chair again. “If it makes you feel the slightest bit better, my turn to meet with the fools begins tomorrow.”

“I do pity you, since, ultimately, you are the one they must impress. I expect you could get them to follow you on hands and knees around the gardens and they’d do it if you promised to choose them.”

“I’ll try to remember that one for tomorrow.”

The rasp of his voice turned playful and irritated on a whim. I admitted never knowing what Legion might say was enjoyable. When he called me Kvinna it wasn’t the same as others. He said it like he was bored of using my name and wanted to say something else. Or like a jest because he knew I was nothing like typical Kvinnas.

Legion lived the life of a wealthy man, yet sparred like a street urchin over a copper shim. But the mystery of him added to the ripple of unease always present on the back of my neck.

Legion took another sip of the tea, grimaced, and shoved the cup away. “Though, I appreciate the effort, I’d rather be ill than drink another bit of that.” He rose from his seat, much of the weariness faded from his step as he reached for a silver ewer on a narrow countertop. “This is what heals the fastest. But I’m not certain you’d be up to such a drink. Hard to stomach for most.”

“I am not fragile.” I puffed my chest, as if proving my point.

Legion stared at me—peeled back my skin was more like it—for at least ten heartbeats. “In that case, I think you deserve a drink.”

I let out a long breath as Legion poured the amber drink into two drinking horns, handing me one when he returned to the table. “From the Eastern Kingdom. They call it brӓn, I think.”

“All hells,” I swore. “I don’t think I’ll ever not be envious you’ve traveled to distant kingdoms.”

He shrugged, grinning. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve traveled there more in dreams. Someday you should go see them.”

Women didn’t travel, I wanted to remind him. But why? It didn’t matter. I tipped the horn to my mouth and a bold tang hit my nose. Unappealing, but I wasn’t about to be rude and refuse a foreign drink. Truth be told, it was exciting. The liquid touched my lips, trickled down my throat.

Three hells it burned.

I coughed twice. The taste was sharp, a little woodsy, but once it settled into my tongue, it softened.

“Good?” Legion asked, hardly blinking as he drank.

“Interesting.”

“Good enough for me. Drink up, then.”

“Bleeding skies, I already feel the haze in my head.” I snickered and took another sip. “This is likely not appropriate. What will folk say if I stumble out of here?”

“We’ll tell them we spent a memorable moment together.”

I kicked his shin underneath the table, feigning embarrassment. “You are inappropriate, Legion Grey.”

“Don’t be ashamed, Kvinna. Not many can stomach the Eastern Kingdom’s ale. You look flushed. What did you think I meant?”

“Inappropriate and infuriating,” I muttered and took another drink, then relinquished my horn.

Any more and I would be stumbling out of his cottage. What tolerance folk in the Eastern Kingdom must have for such a potent, slightly foul drink. I rubbed my missing fingertips, watching Legion finish off the last of his brӓn. I enjoyed his company, but had a pressing question that needed to be asked. With the haze in my brain, there didn’t seem to be a better moment. “Herr Grey—”

“Would it be too much to ask that we forget the Herr? Legion will do fine. Herr sounds too stupidly pious, and I’m about to lose my wits from brӓn. I’m hardly deserving of proper titles.”

I snorted a laugh. “Fine, if you cease with Kvinna. Tell me a moment when I behaved as a proper royal.”

Legion gestured at the cup of tea growing cold. “Then. Right then when you demanded I drink that gods awful stuff.”

Fair enough. “All right, then. Legion, I think you ought to know . . . I know you threatened Siverie.”

The horn paused halfway to his mouth. A shadow darkened his eyes more. “She told you I threatened—”

“No,” I hurried to correct. My palms grew sweaty as nerves gathered in the pit of my stomach. “I saw you, Halvar, and Tor surrounding her. Then, you were gone, and I never was able to ask you.”

He set down the drinking horn. “And what did your maid tell you I said?”

“She gave one story.” I wanted to know if Siv covered for him—if Legion was dangerous. “I’d like to know your side.”

He considered me for a long moment, the blackness in his eyes sending a trill down my spine. When it felt as if the walls might cave in on me if he didn’t speak soon, Legion cleared his throat and leaned over the table. “I mistook her for someone else. As waifs, there was an older boy who tried to kill Tor once. He had a sister. The way Siv sparred . . . anyway, I’m ashamed to say, what you saw was a bit of childhood vengeance. I discovered the error; she was not related to him, and we left it at that.”

More detail than Siv provided, but the stories aligned well enough. Although, for Siv, I needed to see it never happened again. “Understand, Siv and Mavie are more than maids. They are closer to me than my own sister—”

“I understand,” he said. “I made the error. Had I been here, I would’ve apologized again. You have my word I mean them no harm, Elise. As long as they never mean you harm, that is.”

I nodded and tangled my fingers in my lap. “Good. I don’t mind your company, Legion Grey. I’d hate to find a reason to start. Although, I didn’t realize Tor was in the waif house with you.”

He laughed softly and took a drink of his horn. “Halvar, too.”

“What?” My eyes widened. “You said—”

“I said I’ve known him for some time. You did not ask how long.”

“But Halvar ended as a serf.”

“Partly his choice,” Legion said. “Halvar has a gift with seduction, be it man or woman, and he soon learned consorts of noblemen in the south shores ought to be left alone.”

I shouldn’t have laughed, but I covered my mouth, a shudder running down my back. True enough, those who wanted to save themselves pain on the rack or death could offer their servitude. A sad tale, but the way Halvar kept a bit of mischief, I had yet to see serfdom squelch his spirit. And it was entirely entertaining imagining a poor rake like Halvar leaping out of fine manors, angry lovers at his back, after bedding folk levels above his station.

I composed myself by clearing my throat. “Fortunate he ended here, then.”

Legion looked away, amused. “I might have pulled in my own favors.”

My mouth parted. “Legion Grey, I’m stunned. It would seem you have your own tricks and schemes to get what you want. You know, the same can be said for thieves.”

“But what is the point of power if you do not call upon its benefits sometimes? I see only benefit in this case. I am close to Halvar still, and your father has gained another skilled serf who knows his way around a blade.”

I groaned and slumped back. “By the skies, you are infuriating and have, no doubt, won everyone over with your pretty words and petitions. You have even found ways to manipulate serfs. Should you turn into some sort of cur, no one will ever side with me.”

“No, I don’t think that’s right. You’re too kind for your own good and have more serfs who value you than any royal I’ve ever met. I’d be sorely outnumbered.”

I flushed under his praise, took another harsh drink simply because I didn’t know what to say.

“To make my point, today you came here with the assumption I’d hurt your friend, you survived a terrible ordeal, but first you jumped to help me instead of scold me.” Legion shook his head. “Always the surprise.”

If a bit of kindness surprised Legion, I hated to think what sort of life he’d known. I stood and gathered the cups of tea and Legion rose with me, clearly unsettled by being served.

“Elise, you shouldn’t do this. It’s beneath you.”

I let out a long sigh as I placed the cups in the wash basin. “Who shall, then? A serf? Perhaps Tor can be summoned.” Turning back to the sink, I started scrubbing. “I wish I knew why you were here sometimes. There are moments when you seem bent on embracing my oddities, like this—” I gestured at the cups and the soap suds. “Other times you treat me the same as others. Like a royal who is above the rest, as if I look down at others and . . . mistreat them like so many of my people do.”

I didn’t know how to stop the outburst, nor where it came from exactly. Such a simple statement unbottled a thousand unsaid frustrations with my station, with my life, and truth be told, I’m not sure why I abandoned them onto Legion Grey.

I scrubbed the cup harder, but shuddered, forgetting how to breathe when a firm hand tugged on my arm. Legion hadn’t truly touched me before. I’d hardly call sparring an affectionate sort of touch. But his palm slid down the length of my arm, drawing me close enough I could see the hint of gold in the depth of his dark eyes. My heart pounded, ready to snap a rib as he drank me in, unblinking. He stepped closer. My world tilted. Legion used the knuckle of one finger to lift my chin, so I had no choice but to look at him.

“Elise,” he said my name like a summer breeze, soft and gentle. “I am here to learn about you. To keep you safe until our business is concluded. And what you call oddities, I call qualities. You are unlike the Kvinna I expected to meet, but I swear to you, I’ve not had an ounce of disappointment since that day.”

I swallowed with effort; his gaze traveled with it, down the slope of my neck. A hot spark of desire flashed through my chest, and I wouldn’t mind if he touched me in a different way.

Legion’s grin returned. “You are not made of weak bones. Not glass like I expected.”

Cursed gods. I held my breath, frozen as his thumb brushed over a scrape on my chin, still visible from the other night. My fingers curled around the folds of his shirt. Maybe it was the brӓn, but I’d lost my bleeding mind, allowing such a moment, embracing this kind of closeness. I didn’t move away, didn’t even try. Legion’s eyes traveled to the shell of my ear, fingertips following, where another divot had been cut out from one of my first sparring matches. As if he found all my imperfections, studied them, memorized them, then embraced them.

“What began as a profitable position,” he went on. “I now feel . . . honored to know you.”

My gaze dropped to his mouth. When had we gotten so close?

The moment would not last long. A single, swift knock sounded the alarm we were no longer alone, then the door burst open, and Tor shoved into the cottage. “Legion, another attack has—” Tor said little most days, and when he realized Legion was not alone, his mouth snapped shut.

I took three, long steps back. Even Legion cleared his throat, dragging his fingers through his hair. We’d stood chest to chest, hands on each other, and as for me, I’d never been so calm and out of control in the same breath.

“Later, Tor,” Legion snapped.

“No,” I insisted. “What attack?”

Tor looked to Legion, whose jaw had gone taut. Even still, Legion faced me and said, “I was asked not to mention it, but there have been more Agitators acting out.”

“Since last night?”

Legion shared a quick glance with Tor before looking at me. “I’m not convinced those were Agitators.”

“Who, then?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but we’re working with the guards to find out.”

“These true Agitators have burned several coastal farms in the east,” Tor said, ignoring a sharp look from Legion.

“Why? I thought they hated royalty, not the people.”

Legion frowned. “They’re making a new kind of mark, turning the people to the true heirs of Etta, as they put it.”

“It’s nonsense, Kvinna,” Legion told me. “They believe some, or all, of King Arvad’s children live on and are coming to reclaim the throne.”

“Yes, but they are stirring up a following among the people because they insist the Guild of Shade is on their side,” Tor said, glowering.

Legion scoffed. “Fools. Agitators are bleeding sloppy with their carnage. When the Guild of Shade attacks, it’s purposeful.”

My knees buckled, enough I grabbed the edge of the chair. Tor reached out a hand. “Kvinna?”

I waved him away, ignoring Legion’s curious glance. “You say they . . . might’ve joined with the Blood Wraith?” My voice croaked and cracked. Dark memories stirred and my pulse quickened until my insides went sour.

“No,” Tor said. “It’s what they claim. Are you all right, Kvinna Elise?”

“I’m fine. I think . . . I think I saw him last night.”

The room settled into a dreary silence. Tor was the one who cleared his throat. “Then, you would be dead.”

“I know what I saw. He seemed to look straight at me.”

“A lookalike. Much like the Agitators are claiming, many rogue groups claim the Guild of Shade is with them.”

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I skirted around Legion who pierced his stare at me, as though he might see inside my thoughts. “I should be going. Tor, make sure Legion drinks another cup of dandelion tea, even if he threatens you.”

I tried to laugh off my brisk retreat, but neither man bought any of it. Legion’s eyes darkened, and Tor watched me like I’d lost my wits. But I needed to leave. The walls grew too small, too cramped. Outside, I pressed a hand to my chest.

Fear tightened in my veins. A hot tear dripped from the corner of my eye. Somehow, I knew—through intuition or instinct—the Wraith would destroy everything.

He’d make sure the world burned.