A Heart So Fierce and Broken (The Cursebreaker Series) (20 page)

I close my eyes and put my hand against the worst of the marks. Tycho’s breathing shudders, but he keeps still. I don’t know if Lia Mara speaks or if I just imagine her voice.
Gently.

Those sparks and stars flicker and wait. I turn my thoughts away from swordplay and violence. I think of Tycho grinning about winning the race to Jodi’s tavern. I think of him standing in the
loft, promising to keep my secret. I think of my panic easing, how he was the first person I trusted after so long.

I’ll keep your secret, Hawk.

My eyes are closed, but the stars seem to fill my vision anyway, brightening the way they did in the courtyard. They’re everywhere at once. I want to grab hold of them and drive them into his wounds, the way I’d put a blade in an enemy, but now I realize that Lia Mara was right. This is a different kind of skill.

My hands brush over his injuries, and I let the stars dance along beneath my fingertips. Tycho gasps again, but I don’t stop. I trace every line of broken skin, every ridge of damage, every stitch placed by Noah.

“Ah,” breathes Iisak, and I shiver again. “You have discovered the knack for it.”

A sob breaks from Tycho’s throat, and I snatch my hand away. The stars flicker and die. I open my eyes. “Forgive—”

I stop short. The bruising is gone. The wounds have left scarring, like mine did, but the skin is closed. Tycho braces his forearms against the ground, then rises to his knees. Tears have made lines in the dirt on his face, and he’s breathing as hard as he does when we race across the city.

Then I can’t see anything else because he launches himself forward and wraps his arms around my neck. His breath is hitching against my shoulder like he’s a child. “I knew you would fix it. I knew you would.”

The emotion in his voice is so potent that my own chest feels tight. My hands are shaking like I’ve been in a battle. This feels powerful. This feels
useful.
I feel so many things that my thoughts cannot contain them all. Regret that this happened at all. Guilt that I could not help him before. Relief that I could help him
now.

And underneath it all, so tiny that I almost don’t acknowledge it, a kernel of pride that instead of magic bringing fear and torment, the way Lilith did, or pain and death, the way my sword would, my magic brought healing and trust, and that is not a small thing at all.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

LIA MARA

When we wake, Iisak reports that soldiers and guardsmen are preparing to move out of the closest town, and that they will be advancing ahead of our traveling party. Grey thinks this will be our best chance to find horses, especially since we have the buck’s hide to trade, and it makes for a good story. We stay in our camp throughout the day, until Iisak says they’ve moved on, then we wrap up the hide and antlers and plan to walk into town near sunset.

Blind Hollow is a small town burrowed into the base of the mountains that border Emberfall and Syhl Shallow. When we step out of the trees and into the valley, I’m nearly breathless from the beauty of our surroundings. The miles of blue sky overhead darken to violet in the distance. Trees climb the mountainside, stretching as far as I can see to either side. The foliage is vibrant green, but the air here is a bit cooler, leaving the bare start of red speckled throughout.

Tycho’s mouth is all but hanging open. It reminds me of Nolla
Verin’s comments in the carriage, when I was doing the same thing.

“Get a good look now,” says Grey. “You cannot stare like that when we walk into town.”

“The mountains are even bigger than I imagined.”

“It’s not Rillisk, that’s for certain.” Grey starts forward, leaving us to follow.

The five of us together would draw too much attention, so Noah and Jacob wait inside the tree line. Their accents would give them away almost immediately. Iisak has disappeared, but I imagine he won’t be far.

I thought Grey might tell me to remain behind as well, but I offered to be his sister, mute ever since a childhood fever. “It might garner some sympathy,” I said. “For bargaining.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up, just the slightest bit, but his eyes were inscrutable. “Clever,” he said, and that was that.

He’s been active and occupied all day, rehanging the hide to make sure it dries, walking the path into Blind Hollow to see how much traffic we’d encounter, grilling Iisak for insights into the layout of the town and where we might run into trouble.

I spent the day with the bow and arrow, hoping to find more game so we’d have more skins to trade.

At least, that was the story I gave the men. In truth, I needed a task to busy my hands and occupy my thoughts. It didn’t matter. No matter what task I gave my hands, my thoughts were all too content to focus on the moment by the fire, when Grey’s thumb stroked across my lip.

Even the memory is enough to make me shiver. I keep stealing secret glances at him, as if my eyes are reluctant to look at anything
else. That first night I hid in his room at Ironrose, I thought he was aggressive and cold, but after spending days in his presence, I’ve discovered that he’s not either. He’s quiet and strong and sure.

I wonder what my sister will think of him. She teased me about my inexperience with men, but now I long to whisper and giggle in the privacy of our carriage.

But of course we will not have moments of whispers and giggles once I reach the Crystal Palace in Syhl Shallow. Mother will task Nolla Verin with seducing him, so she can form an alliance before lending her support to his claim on the throne.

My entire mood sours by the time we reach the town proper. Dusk hangs over the valley, bringing a cool breeze down from the mountain. Lanterns hang near doorways, flickering with candles. The cobblestone streets aren’t crowded, but enough people are out that we earn a few curious glances.

I’ve braided my red hair into a rope and tucked it into a belted jacket I’ve borrowed from Jacob. Tycho carries the pelt over his shoulder, while Grey has the antlers strung together across his back. Tycho and I each have a dagger at one hip, while Grey is the only one to carry a sword. Tycho scowled at that, but Grey said it would be unusual for simple trappers to carry many weapons.

I think of that man and his daughter again. He only had one knife at his belt.

Kill them
, Nolla Verin said.

Ah, Sister.

Grey glances at me, and he must take note of my expression, because he frowns. “You look troubled,” he murmurs.

I inhale to speak, then remember I am to be mute. I have no idea how to explain it all, so I shake my head, then shrug.

He moves closer. “No harm will come to you.”

He thinks I am nervous about the town. I probably should be, surrounded by people who’ve likely seen the destruction caused by my mother’s soldiers, but I am not. Rhen’s guards have moved on, and Blind Hollow seems quiet and peaceful.

Still, there is something charming about his reassurance. My annoyance dissipates. I look back into his earnest eyes and nod.

Tycho inhales deeply. “Do you smell the food?”

I hadn’t, but as soon as he says that, I realize I
have
been smelling food. The road is bordered by small houses and shops, but ahead there appears to be a larger establishment, with a wide thatched roof and a massive chimney spilling smoke into the air. No walls close the people in, and men and women seem to be coming and going from all sides. The scent of roasted meat fills the street, with the bitter scent of mead floating over it all.

“We’ll start there,” says Grey. “Hopefully we can find a buyer tonight, or someone willing to allow us to trade for horses.”

A sign hangs from the corner of the roof, naming the tavern the Rusty Rooster. Tables of all sizes line the floor, and most are occupied. Grey shifts past those to head for the bar in the center of the room, where he gestures for us to sit.

The barkeep is an older man, tall and thin, with a thick beard and a shiny bald head. He offers us a bright, disarming smile. “Travelers!” he says genially. “Welcome to Blind Hollow. I am Eowen. Mead?”

“Water, if you have it,” says Grey. “I am Rand. This is my sister, Mora, and my cousin Brin.”

Eowen provides a pitcher and three mugs, then adds a platter of
dry biscuits, jam, and cheese. “You look a bit road weary.” He turns that smile on me. “Rough travel, girl?”

I wonder just how
road weary
I look. I touch my fingers to my mouth and shake my head.

Grey says, “Forgive her. My sister cannot speak.”

“Eh?” Eowen laughs and slaps the bar. “She’ll make a man a lucky husband, then!”

I scowl.

Grey laughs. “Indeed.”

I knock over my mug of water in his direction.

He’s quick and jumps back before it does much damage. I offer a simpering smile.

I expect a glare, but instead, he gives me a crooked smile, his eyes twinkling. “She doesn’t know her own strength, either.”

Oh.
Oh.
He’s
teasing
me. My heart flutters wildly. I give the barkeep an apologetic glance as he wipes down the bar.

Tycho clears his throat and reaches for a biscuit. “We have fur to trade, if anyone in town is buying.”

“There’s always a market for fur, especially with winter coming.” Eowen sighs, losing his smile. “We lost our local trapper, too. Poor man was killed by those vicious fiends from over the mountain.”

My heart trips and stumbles in my chest.

Those vicious fiends from over the mountain.

Eowen sighs. “Now we’ve got the Royal Guard coming through town, looking for some kind of magesmith. Supposed to be the heir to the throne, if you can believe that. One man’s as good as another, I say. No one’s cared about Blind Hollow in years.” He pauses. “Are you from the north? You’d know.”

“I’m from Wildthorne Valley,” says Grey. “I do know.”

Eowen’s face falls further. “Now that’s a town filled with sadness. I heard there was a woman whose children were slaughtered one by one. It was done in the dead of night, they said. No one knew who did it. She showed up in the town square, covered in blood.”

Beside me, Grey goes very still.

“It was after her oldest son earned a place in the Royal Guard,” says Eowen. “Can you believe that? To earn that monthly silver and lose all your children?”

Grey clears his throat. “A terrible burden, I’m sure.”

“What happened to your trapper?” says Tycho, his voice hushed.

The barkeep shakes his head. “Fredd. Good man. One of his girls got away. She said it was a slaughter. Those animals shot him right in the back.”

I’d been piecing together the words about the woman losing all her children, but now my blood turns to ice.

I wish I could speak.

I have no idea what I would say.

“Is your sister well?” says Eowen.

Grey glances at me. I have no idea what he finds on my face, but his own eyes have gone cold and dark and inscrutable. His expression reminds me of the first night I met him. It’s almost frightening.

He glances back at the barkeep. “Lingering effects from the fever that stole her voice, I’m afraid.”

I try for a simpering smile again, but I’m not sure I manage it. I likely look addled.

Eowen gives me a narrow look. “Ah.” Something across the tavern catches his eye, and he says, “Here’s Fredd’s daughter. She’ll know where you can get a good price for your hide. Raina! Girl, this man has a fur to sell.”

It takes everything I have to avoid following his gaze. I seize Grey’s arm. My nails dig into his skin, but I can’t help it.

He leans in close. “What’s wrong?”

A girl’s voice at our back shyly says, “I can take you to the blacksmith, sir. His son does a lot of leather and fur work. He was one of Father’s best customers.”

Oh, I can hear the sadness in her voice. My heart stutters in my chest.

I have no idea whether she will recognize me, but I cannot turn around. I cannot.

I am sorry
, I want to say.
I am sorry.

I remember how Harper said the same words to me, and how I rejected them.

Grey straightens, and I keep my eyes on my mug. My hand still has a tight grip on his forearm. “That would be very kind,” he says. “I am sorry to hear the news of your father.”

He pulls at my hand. “Come now. The girl can help us.”

I can’t risk her recognizing me. “We have to run,” I hiss at him.

He doesn’t question me further. His eyes darken with understanding. “Act ill,” he breathes in a rush. “Collapse.”

I ease off the stool—then allow myself to fall.

“Lia Mara!” cries Tycho.

He used my name. I hiss in alarm as Grey catches me. A collective gasp goes up around us.

“Should we fetch a healer?” a woman calls.

“A fainting spell,” he says. “She has them often.” To my absolute shock, he swings me up into his arms. Part of me wants to protest—but another part of me wants to stay
right here
. I press my face into his neck to hide my eyes. He smells faintly of woodsmoke.

“The girl knows me,” I breathe against his skin. “I was there. In the woods.”

“Forgive me,” he says to Eowen. “It seems we must return to our camp until my sister can recover. Perhaps I can meet this blacksmith in the morning?”

There’s a moment of silence. I force myself to keep my face turned away from the girl, though I am
desperate
to see how this is being received.

“Of course,” she says.

I feel Grey offer her a nod. “Come,” he says to Tycho, and then we turn.

Conversation begins to return to normal around us. We’re just travelers with something to sell, just a bit of a passing oddity, nothing too interesting.

My hair is caught on Grey’s arm, and I twist my neck a bit. The braid spills free of my jacket collar.

“Wait.” Raina’s voice calls from behind us. “What did you say your sister’s name was?”

“Mora,” says Grey. “Forgive me, I would like to make it back to our camp before full dark.”

“No, the boy just called her something else.” Raina’s tiny voice gains strength. “I heard you.”

“She knows,” I say against his neck.

“We’re going to need to run,” he says. “When I put your legs down—”

“Eowen!” Raina calls. Her voice is broken and full of pain, but she’s yelling, “She was there! She’s the one!”

My feet hit the street. Grey’s hand finds mine. Tycho is right by my side.

Shouts fill the air behind us, but we sprint across the cobblestones. I’m not fast, but my heart lends strength to my legs, and we fly through the town, cutting between houses, ducking through alleys. A cold wind rushes through the streets, and I know Iisak must be near. Night has claimed the sky, offering shadows and darkness everywhere we turn. A woman screams as we dash through her yard.

My heart pounds. “We’ll lose them in the forest,” Grey says, almost dragging me. “We’ll loop around this house and disappear into the trees.”

Iisak screeches overhead. It sounds like a warning.

We know
, I think.
We’re running.

We take the corner sharply, and I shove my feet into the ground, ready for a full out sprint.

Instead, I run straight into a gold-and-red-adorned guardsman.

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