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

Sol had Tor wrapped in his arms. I wasn’t certain we’d ever be able to pry them apart. Torsten was still bloody, still looked like he ought to be on a funeral pyre, but when we inspected the wound, as the boy king said—it was closed. Nothing but a blood-smeared mess on his skin.

Whatever path of fate came with Torsten’s song, still held. Rave, Ettans, and Falkyns traipsed our small camp, taking shifts on who’d stand watch.

Herja returned to the walls with the archers. Hus Rose remained untouched.

The sea fae had settled for the night from scout reports. It seemed, for now, we could rest.

The mood was somber in the trees. Few folk spoke about what happened in the battle. Most coupled off or burned offerings for their friends who’d fallen. Kings and queens visited those in their individual armies who’d been wounded or killed.

Saga led a prayer to the gods for Rune, Magus, and Yarrow. Ari handed the new Serpent Lady a talisman from her brother and promised the support of their crown as she navigated her new title.

“Cuyler.” I touched his shoulder in one of the healing lean-tos that had been hastily erected.

The blood fae stirred, a mossy bandage still wrapped across his eye. He forced a grin, but it was more a wince. “Cal.”

I didn’t try to hide the disquiet and took his hand. “You almost died, you sod.”

He chuckled. “That I did. Seems I’m short an eye.”

“For certain?”

“Well, it’s not in my head anymore, so.”

I let out a wet laugh when he beamed. “You bleeding idiot. It’s not something to smile about.”

Cuyler sighed and closed his uninjured eye. “Well, it’ll be quite a tale to tell. The more battle scars one has, tends to attract all manner of blood fae women.”

I rolled my eyes, leaned over, and pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “Don’t lose the other one, you fool.”

“Ah, but two missing eyes might very well attract two women.”

I shoved his shoulder, glad he at least had his wit, then made my way back to the camp.

With Herja at the gates it gave Gunnar and Eryka a bit of respite. Gunnar inspected Bard’s scar across his throat, then mocked Tova the way she kept her hands all over his uncle.

“All I’m saying, Tov, is it’s about bleeding time.”

“Shut it, Princeling.”

Gunnar frowned. “What have I said about that name?”

“Eryka,” Tova snapped, clinging to Bard’s arm. “Take your stupid husband away.”

Eryka gently took Gunnar’s hand. “They’d like time alone.”

Tova rolled her cat eyes. “All gods, not like that. He’s injured.”

“But his tongue and fingers are not,” said Eryka. “Those are some of my favorites.”

Tova’s eyes widened. “Bleeding hells, how do you handle her mouth?”

“Masterfully.” Gunnar wrapped an arm around Eryka’s shoulders and kissed her head. “I’ll be visiting Uncle Tor.”

Bard chuckled, tangling Tova’s fingers with his. “I’d leave him and Sol alone for a bit. They left half a clock toll ago.”

Gunnar’s eyes widened. “Right. Good advice.” He jabbed a finger at Tova. “Let my uncle sleep, you fiend.”

“This is why.” Tova faced Bard. “You asked why I hesitated—this is why.”

Bard Strom simply laughed, holding the wound on his neck, and kissed her knuckles.

Heart lighter, I returned to the main circle. A small fire kept the site warm enough. My Cursed King was wrapped around Elise nearest the flame. Their foreheads were pressed together, bodies covered in a fur wrap, and it looked like they were whispering words to each other.

Kase and Malin kept with the Falkyns. Niklas and Junius had lost several of their guild, and as they always did, the Kryv were there to mourn with them.

“All right, Cal?” Ari said, eyes pointed at the sky.

“Not really. You?”

“Not even close.” Ari rubbed the back of his neck. “I keep seeing his bleeding face, the way he hunts Saga. I can’t wait until his damn head is off his shoulders. I don’t think I will sleep until it’s done.”

I gave his arm a squeeze. “It will end soon, Golden King.”

“I’ve been thinking.” He didn’t take his eyes off the sky. “Should . . . should anything happen to me or Saga, will you take Mira?”

“Ari, don’t.”

“I need to know she will be shielded from that ass. Please, Cal. I plan to live and chatter and aggravate the lot of you for centuries, but if my plans are robbed from me—after watching Tor nearly . . .” Ari shook his head and finally pinned me in his gaze. “I saw the way your seidr shielded Tor. Will you do the same for my daughter if the worst should happen?”

His eyes burned with need. He needed to hear it, needed me to give him one sliver of peace.

I tossed my arms around his shoulders, awkwardly hugging him from the side. “I’ve always been there, Ari Sekundär. I saved you once, so I’m not letting you die now, but my answer is yes. Should the Norns be the wretches they are and steal one of my favorite parts of this dreary world away, yes. I will guard Mira with my life. I’ll guard all your little irksome royals.”

Ari cleared his throat and patted my back. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to rest beside my wife. I have this wretched feeling if ever I fall asleep, I will wake up and realize all this has not been a horrid nightmare, and is, in fact, still a battle.”

I smiled, watching him go, shoulders slumped as he searched for Saga.

I did the same. Silas remained on the edge of the camp. He stood alone in the shadows, muttering under his breath. I only caught a few words as I approached.

“Dream descends. Never again.” He laced his fingers behind his neck and started to pace.

My heart ached for him. There were moments when the shadows that consumed him overtook his thoughts, where he got lost in the swirl of fear and unknowns. I knew it, accepted it, and vowed to be the one to always pull him back.

I reached a gentle hand out and touched his arm. Silas jolted in a startle. His eyes were a bit wild, but after a few breaths he took in my face. “Little Rose.”

Silas swallowed me up in his arms, holding me close. I wrapped my arms around his waist and fell into the slow, steady beat of his heart. A peace found only there, only in his embrace.

“Are the shadows taking you?”

Silas let his head tilt, so his lips were pressed to the top of my head. “I keep having a thought that makes little sense and it gets . . . frustrating.”

“What is it?”

“Dreams descend. You’ve said it, the rune seers have mentioned it, and it won’t leave me.”

I stroked my hands up his back. “Maybe we should rest our minds, and it might be clearer.”

Silas’s body seemed to relax into mine. He nodded. “Stay with me?”

I nudged his ribs with my elbow. “Where else do you think I’d be sleeping?”

His smile sealed the final bit of peace I needed to hold me through the darkness of the bloody night.

A hand was shaking my body like I was a damn dried leaf in the wind.

“Cal.”

“Go away.”

“Wake up.”

I cracked an eye. “Kind Heart, this is unbecoming of you. You’re usually much more thoughtful than this.”

Elise snorted, but there was a bit of exhaustion behind it. “We’re gathering to plan. Our scouts brought something back.”

Silas shifted at my side, lifting his head. His arm fell from the place it had been wrapped around my waist, and I felt emptier than before. Elise’s insistence didn’t give us much time to dally.

We brushed off the dirt and twigs and joined the others near the fire. Junius laughed and nudged Tor’s ribs when he and Sol emerged from the trees, Sol adjusting his belt. Tor didn’t even hide the flush to his face and simply held tightly to Sol’s hand.

Frey and Axel and Raum were already explaining what they’d seen.

“The battle lord is never unprotected,” Raum said. “He has wards about him, sea fae guards, and he seems to have absorbed enough of their power that he can crawl back to the sea much the same as he did before should it come to that level of desperation.”

“He has vulnerabilities,” Saga insisted. “Ari’s heirloom blade for one. It will kill him.”

“Not if we do not rid him of these new rune wardings,” Frey said.

Saga frowned. “How do you know he is shielded against the blade?”

“We all saw him,” Valen offered. “Every time a blade struck him, it wouldn’t break his skin. He’s like a damn shield.”

“But my sword was created to slaughter him,” Ari said.

“Come on, Ari,” Axel said. “This battle lord knows what that sword can do. He’s known for ten turns how close he came to death. You think he did not prepare?”

“So what,” Ari barked with a tone of frustration he rarely let loose. “We just drop to our knees? We just accept he can’t be touched?”

“We’re not saying that,” Raum insisted.

Niklas cleared his throat. “The way they have explained it to me, from what I’ve read of wards and protection spell casts—our best bet is to carve out those rune shields from his damn flesh. Spells were cast by sea witches. Fearsome creatures. Almost as impressive with their potions as Elixists.”

“We can’t assume,” I said, glancing at Niklas. “Don’t you need to know where a spell originates to better understand it?”

“Yes.”

“Then, we better know for certain sea witches were—”

“Calista, sweet Calista.” Raum gave me a bemused look. “You offend me. I see practically everything as though it were in front of my damn face. I saw the markings. Saw those beautiful witch folk adding more along his wrists and arm. He’s warding his body, and we can be certain, he’s accounted for the fatal blows of Ari’s blade.”

“Dammit.” Ari turned away, pacing, his hands on his head. “Then what do we do? Don’t tell me that bastard is unkillable, I won’t accept it.”

“There will be a way,” Valen said firmly. “We’ll find a way. I’ll cut off his damn arms if I need to.”

“Good plan,” Raum said, “except, as I said, he’s always under watch from the sea fae at Harald’s command—”

“Not Erik,” Stieg interrupted. “It’s interesting, but Davorin plots with Harald. I think he has little influence over the boy king.”

“But does a boy king have influence over his people?” Kase offered.

Raum let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I can’t tell. They look at him with fear, but also look at Harald much the same.”

“Erik Bloodsinger is hells bent on avenging Thorvald,” Valen said. “He will not be an ally.”

“Perhaps not,” Stieg said, “but if he holds little love for Davorin, perhaps he won’t put up too much resistance if we happen to corner the bastard. You heard yourself, the king is here for you. This is his uncle’s war.”

“I don’t care for the way everyone disregards this boy,” Elise said, taking a step closer to Valen. “Yes, he’s young, but we know what his damn blood can do.”

She cast a look toward Tor. “I’m unspeakably grateful for what he did, but he will not use his blood to heal Valen. It will be to kill him. I don’t want to depend on a boy capable of killing my husband, thank you.”

Valen pulled the queen against his side, pressing a kiss to her head.

“I agree with the queen,” Kase said. “Better to find a way to get Davorin vulnerable and take him ourselves. I’d be glad to cut his bits off. I’d leave some for you to finish him off, Saga, I swear it.”

Saga looked pale. “We were depending on the heirloom blade.”

“It is still an option, sweet menace,” Ari said. “We just need to find a way to break those protections on him.”

“We need to get him vulnerable, unfocused, maybe even while he is sleeping,” Niklas said. “What I know of flesh wards is that the magic within them is connected to the will to live. Distract that will, get the mind in a restful state where it is not locked within constant surges of adrenaline—the skin could soften. The wards might be penetrable.”

“Oh, is that all? Get the bastard drunk? Get him asleep when he’s surrounded by a damn sea kingdom?” Ari’s frustration was locked on his tongue. Soon enough, I suspected our Golden King might start lashing out with violence.

“If he is warded against a blade, how do we cut at his skin?” Saga dragged her fingers through her hair. “He’s had ten damn turns to plot how to avoid that blade and our different magicks. He knows us.”

“Not all of us.”

I startled. Silas stepped forward, fingers flicking at his sides, a hint of his nerves.

“He knows you, Wraith.” Ari pointed at Silas’s face. “The proof is in that bleeding scar you ought to flaunt more than you do.”

“Riot Ode hid a great deal of what Calista and I could do together. He knows our power is connected, but he does not know how deeply. He does not know everything I can do. He never saw me with you, Golden King. He invaded the dream, but never saw me.”

“What are you saying?” Ari folded his arms over his chest.

Silas looked to me; he took my hand and squeezed, like I was the sure place to keep him steady before he went on. “Use our gifts. That is what Calista keeps telling us, and I think it’s . . . I feel like it is the path to take. Gifts of fate began and ended this long fight to reach this moment. Fated queens have risen to power across the realms. We’ve been given these gifts. We ought to use them.”

“What gifts are you expecting to use?” Elise asked.

“All our magicks, but . . .” Silas paused. “To do it, I have an idea. Calista and I create songs that ensnare paths of fate between us. It is how we’ve broken them before, and it is how we restored these lands. We sang a song and that new twist of fate was entrapped by our seidr; it yielded to our heart’s desire. It is possible that we might have a way to keep our battle lord ensnared long enough for all our gifts to play a part in this battle.”

There was drawn silence until Saga spoke. “Are you saying you have a plan, Silas?”

He tightened his hold on my hand. “Yes.”

“Going to share?” Kase muttered.

I glared at him. “You do much the same when you plot. Don’t deny you love to leave those bleeding pauses to let us wallow in your cleverness, Shadow King.”

Kase shrugged and didn’t deny it.

“Falkyn,” Silas said.

“Wraith.” Niklas tossed a pouch of some wretched elixir between his palms. “What can I do for you?”

Silas licked his lips. “Do you have an elixir for a deep sleep?”

I drew in a sharp breath. “All gods.”

With a tight grin, Silas met my wide stare. He nodded, like he knew I understood what he was thinking. “Let the dreams descend, Little Rose.”