Song of Sorrows and Fate: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 9)

Raven Row looked . . . different. Buildings were straighter, more cobbles lined the muddy roads. There were wider stretches of sturdier walls, and forests that once were dry and sickly were lush and full beyond the main roads.

Illusions? A trick of the mind?

How bleeding long had I been behind the damn walls of Hus Rose? I shook the questions away and took note of my folk staggering free of their trance.

But the sea had changed. Murky water lapped against the shore, like dark oil glistened over the surface. Storms near the horizon rolled in angry clouds.

I let out a gasp, squinting to be certain I was seeing the truth this time. Bleeding hells. Once more, dozens and dozens of strange, jagged, cruel-looking ships were splitting the surface of the waves, then sailing toward the Row.

The snap of sails. The spray of mist from the coming maelstrom. All of it was real on my skin. This was no vision. This was a damn attack from bleeding sea fae.

“At the shores!” I screamed to the disoriented folk of the Row. “Sea fae! Protect yourselves!”

I’d never forget diving under the dark water when that dead bastard of a king summoned me with that strange little gold disc of his. The sensation of the sea crushing me, yet never fully robbing me of my breath was horrifying. If my Golden King had not been at my side, I might’ve succumbed to death from nerves alone.

There was power in the seas, and we’d sent Davorin straight to it when the coward turned himself into a slimy eel.

“Cuyler!” I skidded around the bend in time to watch my friend stumble out of the trance I’d leveled against him. “You all right?”

He coughed and gripped my arm. Damp hair stuck to his forehead, his clothes were soaked from the storm that had beat around him, his breaths were heavy, but he gave me a brisk nod. “What happened?”

“I think I put everyone to sleep,” I said. “Don’t ask me how, there isn’t time. Look.”

With a slight nudge to his shoulder, I spun him around to face the shore. Cuyler’s eyes widened. “Dammit. Are those sea folk?”

“Yes. From the looks of it, a great many of them.” We were likely going to die trying to defend this miserly town and those wonderful, lust-filled royals I wished I could see once more. But as I told my Whisper—I would choose to face that fate on my own.

“If this is that battle creature, kill me should he take me, Cuyler. Don’t let him use me against my royals,” I shouted over the wind.

“Stop talking about it, Cal,” he snapped back. “We fight until we can’t. Understand?”

I accepted a short blade off a sheath from his back. He took a broadsword from his waist.

“One last comment you won’t like,” I said. Cuyler groaned in frustration. I tried to keep my voice steady and went on. “I’m glad I won’t go to the Otherworld alone.”

His icy pale eyes locked on mine. Cuyler’s brow furrowed, but he gave me a soft smile. “Fight to your final breath, Cal.”

“Fight to the end,” I muttered. A saying offered by my Shadow King often, but it meant more. Oddly enough, it felt like a notion burrowed deep in my bones.

Fight to the end of this tale.

I shuddered. “Whisper?”

Only dazed people wandered the Row. A few dockers and tavern workers stared at the approaching battle with a touch of longing or desperation. They did not know how to fight. No mistake, everyone knew this was the day our wretched little kingdom would fall.

No sign of Silas.

I scanned the streets, caught sight of Olaf, and waved my sword. “Get people to shelter! Hide as best you can and—”

“That’s enough chatter,” Olaf shouted back. “We stand here as we always have, awaiting the call.”

What the hells? “You old fool, they will not attack with warm embraces. At the least, grab a damn knife.”

“Is that your command?”

“To grab a knife?” I spun around. “Do as you please, you fool. I suggest sharp things.”

Do the same, Little Rose.

“Silas?” I muttered.

“Who is Silas?” Cuyler followed my gaze, tracking buildings. “Calista? Who is Silas?”

I didn’t answer, simply searched the windows, the alcoves, and alleyways for his form. I’d left him behind his gates, but there was a fierce rush of relief to think he might’ve followed. Odd when I ought to be angry at the sod for trying to trap me in that battered palace.

“Silas, show yourself.”

Cuyler glanced side to side. “I’m truly going to need you to fill me in on who you’re talking to, Cal, but after we face this. Looks to be smaller vessels.”

“Likely sending the grunts first,” I said. Made sense. Davorin was a battle lord. He knew his strategy. He wouldn’t ride with a first wave. He’d torment and destroy and weaken, then he would come and devour what was left.

“Watchers!” Cuyler’s commanding voice drew me back to the shore. “Focus on the seas, boys. Guard this land with your blood if asked.”

From the surf, frightening faces emerged. These weren’t the same sort of sea folk who’d sailed next to the brutal king. These creatures were made of rotting sinews and veiny eyes that looked ready to pop free of their skulls. Cheeks were sunken. Threads of flesh opened on the sides, revealing yellowed teeth.

They looked half-dead, but no matter, each was strong enough to raise a blade and sing in voices like cream and sweets. A sound I might give my whole heart to hear again and again.

They slithered from the water. The longer they sang, the more beautiful they became. They were perhaps the loveliest creatures I’d ever had the pleasure of viewing.

Until hands clapped over my ears and sound muffled.

“Cuyler, don’t you hear them?” I tried to shove him away.

“Siren songs. Don’t listen.” I took note of the cloth shoved inside his sharply tapered ears. All the watchers were doing much the same. “Close them off, Calista. Sea singers are the male sirens of old lore.”

Little Rose! Silas’s voice ripped through me, harsh and panicked.

Somewhere in my heart his voice soothed the delirious need to follow the intruder’s stunning song. But . . . their sound was so delightful, so intoxicating.

Desire and unfettered arousal burned through my belly, between my legs. I groaned, mortified at the rush of lust. Heat flooded my face when it was Silas I saw in my head. His intensity, his mystery, what would it taste like on my tongue?

“Push them back!”

I thought it was Cuyler who shouted the command. Cuyler. He was strong and, no doubt, as the heir of his fae court had, more than one woman he’d taken beneath his body. His broad, firm body. It felt wrong. I dreamed of Silas, but Cuyler’s body was here. Did he know how delicious he smelled? Like a rainstorm and musk and leather.

I arched—truly arched—against him. In the back of my skull mortification blared to life. More so when Cuyler’s frosty eyes went wide. “Cal. No, it’s in your head. Shield your ears.”

“I need . . .” My body throbbed in tension.

“Come with me, lovely.”

I spun around. A glorious sea fae stood fifteen paces away. How frightful he’d been upon surfacing, but now . . . my mouth was wet, my body throbbing. He could bring me some relief.

I walked toward him. Somewhere in my senses, I thought Cuyler might’ve screamed my name. What did it matter? I needed this sea man. He was so beautiful. He held out a hand, curling long fingers, beckoning me forward.

Stop! A dark, silky voice broke through my mind.

Whisper. My Whisper. My Silas. My broody, masked, shadowed phantom.

He was here somewhere. I looked around, desperate to find him. More than my delightful sea creature, I wanted Silas to relieve this scorching ache of desire.

Don’t you take another step, Little Rose. You are mine.

Damn him. Did he not know that was, in fact, exactly what I wanted? Silas might be lost in shadows, perhaps he chatted with ghosts, but I had no doubt those fingers could do miraculous things to the flesh. Did he touch with the same ferocity as his gaze? Did he use filthy words as demanding as his tamed voice? Would he take me fast and passionate, or slow and sweetly?

In my head lust flared to something deeper. Desire pulsed into something lasting.

I wasn’t convinced it mattered. I thought I might take Silas any way.

Odd. The rush of primal need burned into a new sensation in my chest. Something hot and forceful. The want was there, but it was more.

“Come to me.”

Ah, my sea creature. In my whirling thoughts, I’d nearly forgotten such a stimulating being was awaiting my hand.

I reached for him.

“Calista, no!” Cuyler shouted.

My friend and his blood fae watchers were fighting. Blades clashed over the horrid-looking sea folk the instant they emerged. Some fell. Others fought back. The people of Raven Row shouted words that turned to haze in my ears. Muffled, like I had already stepped into the sea.

“Come with me.” The sea delight’s breath was next to my ear. He held out a hand.

I wanted to take it, so desperately, but I hesitated.

“Come with me,” he said, angrier than before.

No. This . . . this was wrong. I faced him, head tilted. “I don’t want to leave him.”

For a fleeting moment, the smooth contours of my sea creature’s face twisted into something horrific, something deadened. Gods, they were walking, hideous corpses at first. This . . . this was a ruse.

“Your heart is mine!” He roared, needle-like teeth showing, and rammed his crooked fingers into my hair.

I pulled back, tufts of my hair snapping from my scalp, and yanked out a knife from my boot. “No!”

“You cannot run from—” His silky voice gurgled as though he were choking on the sea.

Bleeding gods. A hooded figure had a twine rope twisted around the sea singer’s neck. His movements were swift. Precise. With a clever flick of his hands, the cloaked man twisted the sea singer’s neck in a ghastly way, a vicious crack sent a rush of sick through my gut.

But when the rotted face returned and the sea singer fell forward, the trance of his beauty and intrigue faded.

I stumbled back, heart racing. All gods, I’d nearly been a bumbling sod and . . . followed him.

My gaze bounced to the man in the hood. The side of his face where he wore his mask was strategically tucked, but those furious, burning, dark eyes were my Whisper’s. His shoulders heaved as he glared at me.

Part of me wanted to shrink away, but the clang of blades kept me rooted. We were under attack. “You came for me after I left.”

Silas narrowed the only eye I could see. “When have I ever left your side?”

I didn’t know the answer, but for the first time, more than I feared, more than I wanted to run from the games of the Norns, I wanted to know what had kept me from him.

“Do I hide you,” Silas snapped. “Or do we fight to our final tale, Little Rose?”

Cuyler and his men were slashing against the slow steps of the sea singers.

Doubtless, the return of sea folk was a first glimmer Davorin would greet our shores soon enough.

I spun the knife in my hand, narrowed gaze on Silas. “He isn’t taking any of us. Never again.”