A Heart So Fierce and Broken (The Cursebreaker Series) (26 page)

When I straighten, she moves closer, until her hip brushes mine. “I believe we should have a small reception tomorrow evening, to celebrate my sister’s safe return. I would like to introduce you to the Royal Houses, so you can learn all Syhl Shallow has to offer.”

Her hand has not slipped free of my own. “I would be honored.”

“And perhaps we can go for a ride tomorrow morning?” Her voice softens. “Privately?”

That feels like a trap. “Perhaps you can show me some of the mounted games you excel at,” I say. “Your sister spoke very highly of your talents.”

At that, Nolla Verin beams. “She did?” She glances at Lia Mara, and for the first time, genuine warmth fills her tone. “Thank you, dear Sister.”

“Of course.” Lia Mara’s voice, by comparison, is wooden. “Everyone knows of your skills.”

I wish she didn’t have to do this.

I wish
I
didn’t have to do this.

Nolla Verin looks back up at me, then gives my fingers a squeeze. “Until tomorrow, then, Prince Grey?”

“Yes, my lady. Tomorrow.”

It takes every ounce of my strength to keep my eyes on her face, instead of looking past Nolla Verin to find the warm, inviting eyes of her sister.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

LIA MARA

The next morning dawns cool and clear, the last of the rain moving out, leaving wind roaring through the mountains. Sunlight glitters on the rooftops of the city, highlighting the raindrops left behind by the storm.

I’d hoped to wake to more rain, so Nolla Verin would be forced to postpone the demonstration of her riding skills, but that likely would have resulted in some indoor activity. The thought of my sister giggling over a game of dice, batting her eyelashes at Grey, is enough to make me want to burn down the castle.

All those days in the woods, I longed for the quiet comfort of my bedchamber, where I could hide with a book by the window, but today I am restless. I miss Tycho’s quiet humor. I miss Noah’s endless knowledge. I even miss Jake’s surly sarcasm and Iisak’s vicious talents.

Iisak
. I do not know my mother’s plans for the scraver, but I do know he was imprisoned before Grey freed him. I wonder how he is handling a return to captivity.

I have new guards waiting at my door. Conys and Bea. Both are female, both stern-faced and cold in their formality. Both chosen by my mother. The warm familiarity I shared with Sorra and Parrish is long gone. I want to find him and apologize. To share in his sorrow. To make things right. Every time I ask to see him, I am told that he has been assigned to other duties on the palace grounds.

Today, I will not ask. I will visit Iisak, and then I will do my best to find Parrish myself. I lace up a belt over my robes, loop my hair into a loose braid, and stride right past my guards without a word.

Conys and Bea fall into step behind me like silent shadows, but they do not question me. I am certain they will report my destination to my mother later, but hopefully she will be too consumed with courting Grey’s consideration of an alliance to worry much about me. She always was in the past.

I deliberately take the longest route through the palace to avoid seeing Nolla Verin and Grey. Or my mother.

Instead, I turn a corner and nearly run straight into Tycho.

He falls back at once and stumbles over his words. “Lia Mara! Ah—forgive me. My lady.” A blush lights his cheeks, and he attempts to bow. “Your—Your Highness?”

He’s so earnest about everything he does that I can’t help but smile. “Tycho. We are friends. Call me Lia Mara.”

His eyes flick to my guards, then back to my face. “Things are different here.”

That statement steals the smile from my face. “Not different between you and me, surely.”

He grins. “As you say.”

“Where were you hurrying off to?”

“Grey asked me to accompany him for his ride with Nolla Verin this morning—”

“Oh.” My lips flatten into a line.

“—but your sister was quite convincing that they should be allowed to get to know each other privately.”

I can imagine the scene perfectly. Nolla Verin would have rapped a riding crop across his knuckles in her effort to be
convincing
—though she probably wouldn’t do it in front of Grey. “Oh, I am certain she was.”

“Jake was turned away as well, but he said he was going back to bed with Noah.” Another faint blush finds his cheeks.

“Well, if you find yourself without a destination, would you care to escort me to the dungeons?”

His eyebrows go up. “The …
dungeons
?”

“Yes. I am going to visit Iisak.”

A breath escapes his lips. “Oh. We can see him? Yes. Yes, of course.” Then his eyes widen. “Wait. One moment, please.”

“Certainly.”

He dashes down the hallway to return a few minutes later, looking rushed and flustered. He glances at my guards and stops his fidgeting, then straightens and offers his arm. That is not a custom here, but he is trying so hard, so I take his elbow as I saw ladies do in Emberfall. We walk arm in arm through the quiet torch-lit hallways.

“You look very fine,” I say to him, and mean it. In the woods, he always looked a bit wild, his hair untamed and his eyes shadowed with watchful distrust. Today he is clean, his golden hair combed straight and tied into a queue. The cut of his jacket broadens his shoulders and the boots give him an inch of height, making him look less like a boy and more like a young man.

He glances shyly at me. “Thank you. So do you.”

The stairs are well-lit, but Tycho hesitates before descending
at my side. The dungeons are rarely occupied—and in turn, they are rarely guarded. The Stone Prison exists on the western side of Syhl Shallow to hold captives for any length of time. Only one guard waits at the bottom, a grizzly older man with a scar across one eye. He does a double take when he sees me, and stumbles to his feet, but offers little more than a nod and a curious glance. No one in this palace has ever had anything to fear from me.

“Your Highness,” he says in Syssalah. “You have come to the dungeon?” He asks this as though I might be lost.

“Yes,” I say. “I would like to see the scraver.”

The guard grimaces and sucks a breath through his teeth. “He nearly took my arm off when I brought him breakfast. I think you’d be better served upstairs.”

At my side, Tycho’s hand has gone tense on my elbow, and I pat my hand over his fingers. “Iisak saved our lives on more than one occasion. I’ll take my chances with my arm.”

The guard nods and extends a hand toward the cells. “They put him in the last one.”

I start walking, and he calls after me, “Tell that ungrateful creature that he’s got the only one with a window.”

When we reach the cell, I discover that the guard was right: a small window allows light down from near the ceiling. But the cell is by far the smallest, hardly eight feet square, nowhere near enough room for a man, much less a creature with a twelve-foot wingspan. Iisak’s wings are folded in tight against his back, and he reclines in the shadows, his black eyes glittering in the torchlight. An iron bowl is upturned in the opposite corner, food splattered against the rock wall. I consider his diet of raw meat in the woods and wonder what they tried to feed him. It looks like porridge.

I wonder if that was on purpose, then consider the selection of this cell when so many others were available. I consider my mother.

All of this is on purpose.

I wonder what cost she will demand. I wonder if I can find out.

The scraver does not look surprised to see us. “Ungrateful, am I?” he says.

Tycho moves to the bars first. “Are you unwell?”

“I am in a cage, boy. Nothing in a cage is ever truly
well
.” He bares his teeth at the guards lurking behind me, and I wonder what they would do if I attempted to press my hands against the bars as well.

Tycho dips a hand into his pocket and pulls free a handkerchief. “The servants didn’t leave animal parts in my chambers,” he says wryly, “but I brought you some sweet cakes and meat pies.”

So
that
is what he went back to his room for.

Iisak looks startled by the offer, and he uncurls from the ground to take the wrapped food from Tycho. Those razor-sharp claws brush against the boy’s fingers with surprising gentleness.

“My thanks.” Iisak withdraws into the shadows again but does not unwrap the food. I wonder if he’ll actually eat it.

“Do not let your kindness make you vulnerable,” Iisak says. Those dark eyes shift to me. “The same advice applies to you, Princess.”

“I am not worried about being vulnerable.”

He smiles sadly. “Then it appears my advice is offered too late.”

Tycho ignores his warnings. “Why are you in the dungeon?” he says. “Will you be harmed?”

“The queen is fond of bargains and debts. She has made it clear that my transgression will be costly. Have no worries, boy. I spent months in a cage. I can be patient.”

“What will it cost?” I say.

He regards me silently in response.

I move closer to the bars, and Bea and Conys move with me, but they do not stop me. “Does she have what you seek?” I ask softly.

His eyes fall closed, and a cool thread of air swirls through the bars. “No.”

No.

He could have made his way home secretly, but he took this chance.

“Are you sure?” Tycho says in a rush. “What if—”

“I am sure,” says Iisak.

“What was it?” I say. “If you tell me, if I can help you—”

“You cannot help me.” He sighs, and a coating of frost appears on the stone wall beside him.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please let me help you.”

“You cannot help me, Princess. Your mother will not yield to you. You know this as well as I do.”

I blush. “I would still try.”

“I know you would. That is why you need the lesson on kindness and vulnerability so very badly.”

I frown.

Iisak waves a hand. “Enough of bargains and secrets. Where is our young prince?”

I don’t want to think about Grey. I wish so badly that I hadn’t pulled his hands away from my cheeks when we were whispering secrets in the cave.

I wish for so much, and wishing never works. I straighten my back. “Courting my sister. The
true
princess.”

“
Courting
?”

“Yes.”

Tycho glances at me, then glances at my guards and says nothing.

“I am not who you should be visiting, then,” says Iisak.

I straighten my shoulders. “The queen would like to secure an alliance with Emberfall. I am certain Grey and Nolla Verin will get along quite well. They are due their privacy.”

Iisak laughs, his fangs glinting in the light. Abruptly, his laugh shifts to a vicious growl I’ve never heard from him, and he pulls back farther into the shadows.

“Lia Mara.” My mother speaks from behind me.

I jump and whirl and all but press my back to the bars. “Yes. Mother.” Tycho looks as shocked as I do. He bows quickly and tries to pull into the shadows himself. I think he would tuck himself into the cell with the scraver if he could.

So would I. My mother’s eyes are full of fire. “My plans for this creature are none of your concern.”

“I thought—I thought I might be able to speak in his favor—”

“No. You may not. He has broken a treaty, and he is aware of the penalty. Return to your chambers at once.”

I grab Tycho’s hand and drag him with me before she can get any other ideas.

As we ascend the stairs, I hear her voice, low and brutal. “My dear, vicious creature. First we will begin with information, and then we will discuss what you can do for me …”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

GREY

I would rather be back in the throne room facing Karis Luran, or back in the gritty arena of the tourney facing Dustan.

I would almost rather be in the courtyard of Ironrose facing Rhen.

In truth, I would rather be back in that cave on the border of Emberfall, my breath mixing with Lia Mara’s. I should have kissed her. I should have bargained for her to be queen. I should have begged fate for one more night of travel, to see where this flare of attraction would lead.

Instead, I’ve been goaded into a horse race.

Nolla Verin sets a rapid pace into the city, cantering through the streets without regard for her surroundings. She’s clearly a skilled rider, but she could do with a bit more regard for her subjects. More than one person dodges out of the way as we maneuver sharp corners and narrow alleyways.

Guards trail us, none leading, which surprises me. Perhaps they
would have led, but Nolla Verin seems to be cutting her own crooked path through the city, leaving her guards to do their best to keep up. We lose some in the more crowded streets, as people are quick to yield ground to their princess, yet not as quick to avoid her Royal Guard. As a guardsman, I would have found it exhausting.

As the supposed heir to the throne of Emberfall, I also find it exhausting.

She holds the lead, but not by much. She has the advantage of knowing the city, of having a light mount that can bank and turn with little notice. She has the advantage of knowing the destination.

I’m beginning to think she wants to see if she can unseat me, but I spent more than three hundred seasons evading a monstrous beast through every forest in Emberfall. She can take any sharp turn she desires; she won’t get me off this horse.

I should be enjoying this. I like horses. I like a
challenge
.

But I’m worried about Iisak. I’m worried about Lia Mara. I’d hoped to pass her as I followed Nolla Verin out of the palace, but the halls were mostly empty. I thought we might take a sedate ride through the Crystal City, during which I could ask after them both, but Nolla Verin bolted from the castle grounds and clearly expected me to give chase.

So I did.

I keep thinking of my discussion with Lia Mara, when we carried the buck through the woods, about how her people were not so different from mine. It’s so directly at odds with my years of training as a guardsman, but her words weaseled their way into my thoughts and refuse to dislodge.

I want to meet Lia Mara’s people.

I want to do it with her at my side.

Instead, I’m chasing her sister at a full gallop, the people and the buildings blurring into a sea of grays and reds and browns, the sun glinting off glass and silver-shot stone.

Ahead, a woman shrieks, and a small figure darts into the road ahead of us. Nolla Verin’s glossy black hair streams behind her like a banner, and she shows no indication of stopping. I cannot reach her rein, but I put a heel into my horse, crowding her mount, forcing her horse to the side.

She shoots a surprised glare at me over her shoulder, but I’ve already looped my reins into one hand, and I sit down hard in the saddle. My horse responds immediately, hooves skidding on the pavement as I lean down to seize a fistful of fabric. I jerk the child off the ground and into my arms just before the guards gallop past.

The horse prances and fights my hold, wanting to rejoin the chase. I hold fast and look down at the child. She’s about four, with shiny black hair and warm brown skin. Her expression is frozen in the space between wonder and terror.

“Be at ease,” I say to her, though it’s clear she does not understand the words. I make a silly face, and a tiny smile peeks through. I try another and earn a real one. “
Fell siralla
,” I whisper in a self-deprecating tone, and she giggles.

A woman appears beside me, speaking rapidly, her tone apologetic. Tears sparkle on her lashes. The little girl is already reaching for her, hands wide and clasping, and I ease her down to her mother.

Nolla Verin and the guards have doubled back to return to us, and the woman curtsies to the crown princess, clutching her daughter and speaking even more rapidly.

Nolla Verin ignores her completely. She looks at me, a curious smile on her lips. “That mother should have better control of her child.”

“Her princess should have better control of her horse.”

The smile vanishes. Her lips purse. In that moment, she looks very much like her mother.

I should not rile her. So much balances on what happens here. “Or perhaps your mount was traveling so fast that you did not see the girl.”

A fraction of a smile returns to her face. “Perhaps. I noticed you had difficulty in keeping up with me.”

“How could I not? You are clearly quite skilled.”

The smile broadens and she turns away, paying the woman no heed. I am left with no choice but to follow or to emphasize her rudeness, so I nudge the horse forward and wish I had a coin to toss to the woman.

She calls after me anyway, words I cannot understand.

“What is she saying?” I say to Nolla Verin.

Her mouth tightens. “She offers her thanks.”

“Ah.”

She gives me a wicked glance. “Race you back to the palace?”

Eager to run over more innocents?
I think. But instead, I say, “Of course, Your Highness. Do you care to take a head start?”

Her expression turns vicious, and her horse leaps forward. A taunting call floats behind her: “You will regret giving me a lead, Prince Grey.”

No, I will enjoy a walk in the sunshine. I need a minute. Or an hour.

When Rhen was trying to rally his people to save Emberfall, he seemed to negotiate court politics effortlessly. One day in Syhl Shallow, and I wish I
could
find solutions to every problem at the end of a sword.

Two guards have hung back to walk with me. Their names are
Talfor and Cortney, both experienced enough in their roles that their expressions are mildly disinterested, though I can feel their eyes on me as we walk.

“We would not have trampled the girl,” Cortney eventually says, and her accent is so thick that it takes me a moment to work out the words.

I nod, though I have no idea whether this is true.

“Nolla Verin is quite determined,” adds Talfor. “She never yields. That is why she is so well-suited to be queen.”

“An admirable quality, I am sure,” I say.

“That woman did not simply offer her thanks,” says Cortney.

Talfor snaps at her in Syssalah, and Cortney looks away. I know well the tone of a senior officer reprimanding one of a lower rank, so I wait before turning to Talfor. “Tell me what she said.”

I do not know if they’ve been told to obey me, but he frowns and pulls at the collar of his uniform. That tells me enough.

“
Exactly
what she said,” I add.

“She said she is grateful for such uncommon kindness.” His eyes are concerned that he’s said too much, because he quickly adds, “Perhaps we should ride on. If you are to have any hope of catching Nolla Verin—”

“I have little hope,” I say with a shrug, making no attempt to drive my winded horse back into a gallop. “She is far too quick.” We’re traveling slowly now, and shopkeepers and street workers peer at us curiously. Rhen might have kept a distance from his people, but he still would have walked among them. He definitely wouldn’t have run them down in the street for a bit of sport.

I wish I could drive Rhen from my thoughts.

I need to stop thinking like a guardsman and start thinking like a prince. I don’t need to chase anyone through the streets.

I glance at Cortney and offer half a smile. “Do you have any coins? I’ll make sure they’re returned to you. I wouldn’t mind a stop at whatever passes for a tavern here.”

She looks shocked and shoots a glance at Talfor. The man shrugs.

Cortney’s eyes meet mine, and she offers a hesitant smile. “Yes, Your Highness. I know just the place.”

We eat fried slices of some root vegetable, topped with sizzling hot beef and a red sauce that’s tart on my tongue. At first Talfor and Cortney speak in cautious words and measured statements, but they seem like decent guards, so I keep my manner easy. Eventually theirs matches.

“Some of us thought you’d pull your blade right in the throne room,” Talfor is saying. He slices a small bit of beef on his plate. “Claim the throne right there.”

“Surrounded by three dozen guards?” I say. “Did you think me a fool, too?”

Cortney chuckles. “Others have tried.”

My knife goes still. “Tried to assassinate the queen?”

“Oh, yes. All the time. The queen can name an heir, but if she is killed, whoever deals the death blow is ruler by law.”

Talfor laughs. “And then what, wait for the next man or woman to bury a sword in his belly? No, thank you.”

I’m frozen on the first part of his statement. I wonder if Rhen knows this.

I hate that my first thought is of Rhen.

But the guards are right. If I’d pulled a sword in the throne room, I would have been dead before I touched Karis Luran. And
even if I managed to strike her down, I highly doubt these men and women would have bent a knee to me.

Cortney speaks, her voice grim with dark humor. “If someone killed the queen, we’d just hold him down and let Nolla Verin kill
him
.”

“The people of Syhl Shallow seem quite loyal.” I slice another piece of meat and force it into my mouth.

They exchange a glance, and I realize they wonder if I am mocking them.

“In truth,” I say, and mean it. “I have only been here a day, but I have not heard anyone speak ill of your queen. I have not seen disgruntled looks or hints of discontent toward your royal family.”

“None would be tolerated,” says Cortney. She snorts. “The Stone Prison is not full of
loyalists
.”

Talfor is studying me. “You have noticed so much?”

“Once a guard, always a guard.”

They exchange another glance, but this time Talfor smiles. “It seems that is no longer true, Your Highness.”

Cortney leans in against the table. Her voice drops. “Is it true you can perform magic?”

Talfor snaps at her again, and I smile. “It’s all right. Speak freely with me.”

They exchange a glance, and then Talfor sheepishly says, “Is it true, then?”

“Yes.”

“Would you show us?” says Cortney.

Someone at court will eventually demand a demonstration, and I would rather do it here, in the quiet shadows of a tavern, than in front of Karis Luran’s whole court. I pull my dagger, and they
straighten in alarm, but I swiftly drag it against my palm. Blood wells quickly, but I know how to find the waiting magic now. The wound closes. Effortless.

Talfor shoves back from the table. Cortney is staring with intrigue.

I swipe the blood away and take a sip from my cup, blushing a little. “As you see.”

They exchange another glance. Cortney slaps her arm down on the table, then draws her own blade. “Do it to me.”

I close my hand over the wound and gently ease my magic between us. I can feel when the wound is healed, but if I couldn’t, her reaction would tell me. The guard’s eyes go wide, and she gasps. She says something soft in Syssalah, then swipes her own blood away.

“The queen will be quite impressed,” says Talfor.

“I understand she values harm over healing,” I say.

He swallows. “Yes, well … healing is quite useful.”

“I can undo healing just as easily. Would you like a demonstration?”

He draws back. “Unnecessary.” He clears his throat and evaluates me with greater regard. “Your Highness.”

A serving girl comes to take our plates and refill our mugs with cider. Cortney says, “Nolla Verin will be looking for us to return.”

“Indeed,” I say. I make no move to get up. “Do you carry playing cards, Talfor?”

He glances uncomfortably at the front of the tavern. “The queen’s guests will be arriving by late afternoon.”

“So is that a no?”

He gives me a rueful look. “Nolla Verin will not like this.”

“Are you to be my keepers?” I say. “Will you be punished if I do not return in a timely fashion?”

Talfor looks startled again. “Our orders are to keep you out of danger.” He glances at Cortney. “And to make you feel welcome.”

“Well done, then.”

They still look uncertain.

I lean in and drop my voice. “If there is to be an alliance between our countries, I must be seen as an equal. Nolla Verin clearly wishes to make this a competition. If I win, it is an insult to Syhl Shallow. If I lose, I am to be seen as weak. The only way to win is not to play.”

Cortney clears her throat. “Once a guard indeed.”

That makes me smile. “I do not wish for you to earn a reprimand on my behalf,” I say. “If you would like to return to the palace, we can. But I would much rather learn about Syhl Shallow from its people than its rulers.”

The guards exchange another glance, but Talfor finally sighs. He unbuckles a pouch on his belt. “Are cards the preferred diversion in Emberfall?” he says.

“They are.”