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

Castle Ravenspire—Kingdom of Etta

Hold. Hold. Just a little longer, hold. My hands gripped the leather-wrapped hilt of the short blade.

“Maj.” Livia’s little whimper broke a fresh crack through my chest.

I peered over my shoulder. Livia was tucked in an alcove near the great hall with a handful of other littles. Aleksi kept his hand clasped tightly with my daughter’s, while two of the Atra daughters clung to their older brother. Aesir was stoic. By my side, Kari kept glancing at her boy with concern he might break, at long last, and flee to find his father.

Across from the children, in another alcove, Metta and the eldest daughter of Kari and Halvar hugged Lilianna’s waist.

“Stay down, little love,” I told Livia. A few clock tolls before I would’ve forced a smile to ease the burdens of her tender heart. Now, I could not find the strength to do it.

The door to the hall shook against whatever force was ramming into the wood. I turned my back on my daughter and braced my shoulder against the only barrier between us and . . . a fate worse than the hells.

Kari stood at my side, bracing much the same. Bile burned my tongue to speak this, but the words needed to be said. “Kari, should they enter, should they take me. Promise you’ll leave me and get the children free.”

“Shut up, Elise,” Kari snapped.

Hells, I’d missed the sharp tongue of my friend. In public, as an Ettan warrior, the wife of the First Knight, Kari Atra was often called upon to speak too damn pretentiously. Not like we once did in Ruskig when we were all misfits trying to survive.

Tears brightened her blue eyes. “I’m not leaving you as much as you’re not leaving me. And it’s not because of your bleeding crown. We’re friends. We’re warriors. We don’t leave each other behind.”

I dipped my chin in a stiff nod. Fair enough. Another furious ram of the door and I dug my heels firmer onto the floorboards.

A thousand thoughts whirled through my mind, most of them fell to Valen. Where was he? Was he injured? Did he see an end of this battle?

Did he feel how desperately I wished I could touch him, how fiercely I wished I’d kissed him a little longer before he’d left the castle?

The king fought at the gates with the others. I knew he was alive from the occasional shudder of earth, but it was always distant. Either Valen was growing weak, or they’d pushed the attack into the lower townships.

Since Halvar had discovered the carnage at the docks, the spread of the curse of bloodlust had taken Timoran after Timoran. Only Night Folk and Ettans were spared unless they drew too close. Then, they were slaughtered.

I closed my eyes against the sting. Slaughtered like Mattis.

My cherished friend. He’d deserved a life of peace. He’d deserved to see his child be born. He and Siv deserved to grow old and enter the hall of the gods together. Mattis had never deserved to die in such a way, torn apart and slaughtered in the sand.

I’d lived beside Valen’s curse for only a short time. I’d witnessed his transformation, the pain and suffering he’d needed to endure to quench the lust of death and gore.

Short as my experiences with his curse had been, it was enough I never wished to survive it again. Now, it was as though hundreds of Blood Wraith’s ran our shores. One difference was these cursed could die, but their lust for blood was never sated until they greeted the Otherworld. They did not sleep. They did not cease fighting.

In my heart, I knew—Etta was falling.

This was a fight I was not certain we could win. We’d sent the warning to the others, and our shores remained empty of Eastern ships. No missive from Ari. Not even the flight of a raven. Calista was silent, though I was never certain which kingdom she was in at any given time.

If she was in the West, she had not responded since the signal was sent seven nights ago.

There was no resentment at the silence of our friends—there was only harsh, jagged fear. I knew Malin, I knew Ari, I knew the storyteller well enough to know if they were silent, they could not come to our aid.

It would mean they, too, were under attack.

I winced when wood splintered. A blade—likely an axe—was snapping through the door. “Lili,” I said, eyes closed, desperate to keep my voice steady. “Gather the children.”

“Elise, no,” she whispered, hugging Metta against her side.

Herja’s youngest daughter had only turned thirteen, and sobbed against Lili’s shoulder. She’d watched everyone—her parents, her older brother Dain, and Laila enter the battlefield. No mistake, the girl knew Gunnar would be locked in some unknown battles in the Southern Isles.

We all had bid farewell to half our families. There was no telling when we’d be reunited, or if we’d be reunited.

“Lili,” I said desperately. “You must get them to the peaks. You’re the only one who knows Old Timoran. You’re the only one who can get them to the shore on the other side.”

Some of our folk, the elderly, the Timorans still untouched, or those with children or tiny infants, had already been led away by three dozen warriors to the Northern Peaks, right near the passage to Old Timoran. The only place the cursed folk seemed to avoid.

Lilianna was a mother to me. She was fierce, she’d taught me how to be queen with gentle instruction and patience as we navigated Etta after the battles. She doted on her grandchildren, she loved her family fiercely.

But it was written in her eyes, as much as it was mine, she knew this kingdom was being torn apart in a way none of us ever could have expected.

She swiped tears off her cheeks and forced a smile to the littles. “All right, loves. You know what we’re to do. We talked about it.”

“No!” Livia made a rush for me, but Aleksi gripped her hand.

“Come on, Livie,” he said, his voice soft and soothing. Broken. A sweet temperament of a boy, but I’d watched every night as his skinny shoulders had racked in silent sobs since Sol and Tor had both kissed his forehead and left to join the fight. Now, he was trying to be brave and bold for his cousin. “We’ll meet ‘em all over the peaks.”

Big, heavy tears dropped from Livia’s lashes.

I gave her a small smile and mouthed, I love you.

“Stick together,” Lilianna told them. Her voice was a wet rasp as she battled fear, a need to stay, to fight beside her husband and children, but also the knowledge that as Timorans we all were more of a liability than an aid here. “We keep to the shadows, loves. It’s going to be cold in the peaks, but we’ll be back . . . we’ll be back before you know it.”

Agony ripped through my chest. Kari choked on tears as her four children followed Lilianna toward a narrow doorway that would lead them out through the furthest tower of the castle. She told each of them she loved them, she promised seats in the great hall if that was where they next met.

Aesir pounded a fist against his chest, eyes wet, and vowed to protect his sisters, to make his mother and father proud.

“I love you, my boy,” Kari said, voice soft and broken.

Perhaps it was the distraction of our hearts snapping in two, but I’d lost attention on the door. Long enough I did not notice the pounding had ceased. The shouts, the splinters, they’d gone silent.

Until it was too late.

The back door where Lilianna led the children crashed open, forceful enough the wood sagged on the hinges. Men and women, eyes red as the blood moon, shoved inside. Their mouths and teeth and fingers were soaked in dried blood.

Lilianna shouted for the littles to get back, drew a dagger, and rammed the point through the throat of a slender woman. A woman who looked a great deal like the former queen. Hair like golden sunlight, a torn gown that likely had been lovely not so many days ago.

The children shrieked. Aesir gripped a knife. Metta struggled to reach hers and had a large Timoran man rushing for her, teeth bared.

Metta screamed, but the man fell forward, a knife in the back of his skull. Aesir shoved the young princess aside and ripped his knife out of the bleeding Timoran’s head, shouting at his sisters to hide.

There was nowhere to hide. The door near me and Kari, again, rattled as the cursed folk surrounded us. Still, there was only a drive to protect our children.

“Get down!” I cried out, swiping my blade across middles, throats, chests. “Down!”

Livia and Aleksi hugged Halvar’s daughters in an alcove. Kari leapt in front of them and rammed her seax through the belly of a stout woman with bloody lips and graying hair.

I spun and met the broad body of a tall man. His auburn beard was soaked in days-old blood; his eyes were lost and wild.

“Egil.” My blood chilled. Egil Lysander. One of Calder’s younger brothers. A cousin of mine who’d hated his father and brother for their cruelty. A man we discovered after the Ettan wars had secretly harbored Night Folk and Ettans in a longhouse on his estate near the old quarries.

Egil was a cousin who’d helped unite our people when Valen and I ascended the throne.

“Egil, no!” I let out a cry of anger, of rage, of hate for what was happening here. My cousin no longer recognized me, all he saw was blood and the need to tear the Night Folk apart and force me to join him. Tears blurred my eyes as I slashed at him.

He hissed and tried to grip my hair. My blade struck his wrist. I struck his ribs. His thighs. I brought him to his knees, only pausing when he lifted a trembling hand.

“Elise.” His voice was strained. He clutched his side. “Elise, please, cousin.”

My heart stilled. Gods, he was coherent. It could . . . it could fade. “Egil?”

His desperation shifted faster than I could catch a breath. Those bloody lips twisted into a wretched kind of grin. When he spoke again I could nearly hear the battle lord’s voice. “Queen of Choice.”

Egil made a swipe for my middle. I was swifter. The point of my sword slid through the back of his neck. He coughed and tilted forward, then went still.

I scrambled back, dazed, and desperate to focus. The fight wasn’t over. Behind Egil’s body another woman lunged for me.

“The hall! Get to the damn hall!” My heart stilled. Valen. They were coming.

A little longer. Hold them off a little longer.

Metta caught sight of Aesir battling with a Timoran boy, no older than himself, but the boy was trying to tear at Aesir with his bare fingernails.

Herja’s daughter picked up a jagged piece of splintered wood.

“Metta, no!” Lilianna screamed at her granddaughter.

The girl was already rushing toward the cursed boy, unaware a lanky man had her in his sights. Blade lifted, the cursed Timoran aimed to take the princess down, but he jolted when a blade rammed through the center of his chest.

Next to the man, Lilianna was small, humorously so, but she pushed against him. Blood soaked her wrists, her arms. He struggled to keep upright. When she tried to yank her sword free of his chest, it caught.

“Lili!” I screamed. “Get back!”

Lilianna released the sword, she tried to dodge, but the dying Timoran man grabbed her arm. He bit her wrist, shredding her flesh with his teeth. Lilianna screamed and pounded her fist against his skull.

I came behind the bastard and thrust my sword in his ribs. He roared his pain, but took another bite from Lilianna’s shoulder, drawing blood.

It felt greater than an eternity before the cursed man stumbled over, eyes dead and pointed at the rafters.

The door shoved against a few fallen bodies.

“Elise!” Valen shoved. “Elise, answer me. Livia!”

“We’re here.” My voice cracked.

I heard Valen let out a breathless, “Thank the gods.”

In the next breath, Valen burst through, blood soaked, and followed by Halvar, Tor, and Arvad. At long last, Aleksi broke when he saw one of his fathers. The boy lunged for Tor and cried against his chest. Livia wrapped her arms around Valen’s waist. He kissed her head, but his dark, midnight eyes found me across the hall.

For a moment, a simple, fleeting moment, we could be at peace knowing we all breathed.

But Valen’s eyes widened. “Maj?”

All gods. I whirled around. Lilianna was on the ground, gasping. Kari was gently holding her arm.

“G-Go,” Lili rasped, trying to shove Kari away.

“No!” I went to Lilianna’s side. Already her eyes were shading to a deep crimson. Her skin was pallid, almost a sickly gray.

She sneered at me, fighting whatever was happening in her blood.

“Lili.” Arvad slid to his knees, clutching her shoulders.

She shuddered, face contorted in pain. Then, she lashed. At her own husband.

“Night Folk.”

Arvad was a taller build than even his sons. Next to Lilianna he seemed double her size. Still, he dodged, and maneuvered his body behind her, arms fiercely coiled around her waist, pinning her thrashing body to his chest.

“Lil.” He pleaded next to her ear. “Stay with me. Gods, stay with me.”

A firm hand tugged on my arm. Valen pulled me behind him. His eyes were despondent, watching his mother fall under the curse he’d endured, watching her spit hatred at his father, at him, at us all.

Livia watched in horror as her grandmother bucked and thrashed in Arvad’s grip.

“Maj, don’t kill her,” she whimpered. “Please don’t kill her. She . . . she can be fixed.”

I kept one hand clasped with Valen, and with the other, hid Livia’s face in my bloody tunic. We’d heal her. Somehow we’d heal them all. A bitter tear fell onto my cheek. I wasn’t going to lose Lilianna. I wasn’t going to lose my damn kingdom. Not when we’d battled for peace through too much blood, too much pain.

From the back of the room, the door burst with more of our warriors. Sol, Stieg, Kjell Bror, Hagen, and Laila. Sol embraced Tor and Aleksi, but looked at his mother with a bit of horror. “What the hells . . . no. Tell me they—”

“She was attacked,” Valen said, a new hardness to his tone.

Sol blinked furiously. “Then . . . we’ll find a damn cure. You were cured.”

“By dying,” Valen snapped. “Dying.”

“In the East—”

“Malin is not here to walk our mother . . . to walk her back to us.”

Endless nights of fighting, and the stalwart optimism of my king was wavering. I wrapped an arm around his waist.

“I was recently reminded,” I said softly. “We do not leave each other behind. We’ll find a way.”

Valen blinked, then pressed a hard kiss to my knuckles. “Daj.”

Arvad’s muscles pulsed as he clung to his thrashing wife. Lili’s lovely blue eyes were red and hateful. She kept flinging her head back, smacking her skull against Arvad’s chest. Already she’d drawn blood on his wrist from biting him. He didn’t let her go. He didn’t give up his embrace.

“See if you can get her to sleep,” Valen’s voice was rough, like grit lined the back of his throat.

Arvad’s eyes darkened. His jaw pulsed. Next to Lili’s ear, he whispered something only meant for his wife, then carefully drew his strong, heavy arm beneath Lilianna’s chin. He tightened his grip, his forearm choking off her breath.

She kicked and thrashed. Her skin shaded to a desperate flush of purple as she tried to draw in a sharp breath. Cursed or not, to deprive the lungs of air would silence anyone. Arvad broke. A single tear on his cheek as his shoulders shook, but he didn’t relent.

Lilianna’s thrashing grew slower, weaker. Soon she could barely pound at Arvad’s arm.

At long last, she went still. Arvad let out a shuddering gasp and loosened his hold. He kissed the side of her head, holding his lips in her hair, holding her to his chest.

Kjell went to the former king, and clapped his shoulder. “We’ll heal her.”

Arvad still kissed her head, but nodded, closing his eyes.

“Come. We can’t stay,” Valen said, returning to his role as the king. “They’re closing in, but we’ve learned they despise fire. That was not the same for me. So, it’s hopeful that this isn’t the same curse. For now, we can keep them at bay until we make our way to the peaks. There are sleeping draughts to help with Maj, but we must try to find out what is happening in other lands. We will need Calista to end this.”

A glimmer of hope heated my blood.

No sooner had the reprieve begun than the ground quaked.

“Valen.” I clung to his arm.

“It’s not me.” He tugged my body against his side and held Livia against his other hip.

The ground rolled again. It dipped.

“What is that?” Sol shouted, taking Aleksi in his arms and shielding his boy’s head as the castle rocked. He pointed out the window.

In the distance, against the eerie red of the night sky, a burst of light broke in the western-most seas. Like a burst of shattering gold, it broke across the sky. Screams filled the hall when the floor dipped.

Valen dragged us to our knees; he tucked my head and Livia’s under his arms. With one palm on the splitting floorboards, he tried to use his own fury against whatever was shattering the earth.

As another violent shudder rocked us, he gave up and simply held us close as our kingdom fell apart.