Song of Sorrows and Fate: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 9)
Song of Sorrows and Fate: Chapter 31

I was going to die here. Odd, but there was a peace within me. What I’d feared most, the short life of a storyteller, didn’t seem so daunting. Perhaps it was because now I knew the truth—I’d died before. It wasn’t so terrible.

Perhaps it was the peace knowing Silas was at my side at long last.

The thought brought a swell of comfort. I’d walk with him to the Otherworld. Truth be told, it was almost exciting. I wondered who would greet us first. My parents? Stefan? Maybe some of those my other royals had lost along the way.

Shoulder to shoulder with Silas, bloodied knives in hand, I rushed for the shore.

The waves rolled near the chasm. Over the barrier between the two worlds, more water thrashed violently. A bit of black spilled from beneath the surface, like ink bubbled from some undersea well. Then amidst the darkness, rich, bloody crimson rose toward the surface.

The sea fae slowed their assault. They roared with a twisted bit of glee at the sight.

There was a knot in my belly. Whatever was coming was of great importance to the sea folk.

Through the violent boil of the Chasm, a dark, jagged point emerged. The bowsprit was sharp and angled, opening like the jaws of a coiled sea serpent. Spines like actual broken pieces of bone followed. Each piece jutted off the round belly of the new ship like bony knives.

My breath caught at the sight of the first mast. Thick, crimson sails stitched up in rough pieces of canvas and whatever hardened creatures the sea folk added to strengthen them were a horrid memory.

The Ever King’s ship.

There was too much distance yet to see who manned it now, but it didn’t matter. The inky seas spilled around the royal ship, and it took little to guess what creature was rising along with the strongest ship of the sea.

Rave braced for the new attack. The sea folk seemed empowered and faced the shore with a new thirst for violence burning in their eyes.

Horns wailed from the towers. Archers prepared to fire, doubtless until the last arrow met the soft flesh of an enemy. There were simply not enough of us to battle them and win. We would fall today, but we would fall with blades in hand, with passion in our voices, with as much sea fae blood sprayed on our faces as we could manage.

Silas blew out a sharp breath. I braced, knives at the ready.

Sea fae that were already on land fought the Rave, Olaf among them. The captain swung and battled with ferocity in every jab, strike, and thrust, yet no strikes seemed to rid the land of the sea fae. Like a plague, they appeared from the waves and rose onto the shore.

The space I could fight lessened as the Rave stepped back, huddling around us; more sea fae rushed the land. One fae would strike. I’d block. Another would aim to take out my feet. Silas would chop his sword.

A blade sliced across my ribs. I cried out, fumbling.

“Calista!” Silas’s terror-lined voice broke down to my soul.

A sea fae, two heads taller than me, with eyes like dried blood, took hold of my hair; another gripped my wrist. They grinned wide enough I could see the sharp points of their canines showing through. I never understood why the sea fae had damn fangs. They didn’t drink blood. Maybe they tore their fish apart, raw and feral-like.

I held their eyes; I’d look at them as I died.

In the next breath, inky shadows curled around my legs, scaling my body like a dark cloak. Darkness filled the spaces between me and the sea folk.

My heart stilled.

The two sea fae watched the ribbons of shadows thread around their limbs, their throats.

They had no time to consider moving away before the darkness tightened like a garrote and yanked their necks to the side in a horrid angle. They convulsed on their feet, then toppled over.

For a moment I was stunned, until I took note of the flopping corpses of other sea folk. Shadows slithered away, leaving their broken bodies in the muddy walk of Raven Row.

I followed the retreat of the shadows and nearly cried out in a broken sob of joy when the Nightrender—that wonderfully frightening Shadow King—stepped onto the row. His eyes were the blackest of black, and he wasn’t alone.

My royals. My family. They spilled into the gaps behind him, a wave of their own. Too many—as in they had bleeding young ones. All their littles were in the throes of the battle. My gaze landed on Mira, tucked close to Saga’s side.

I looked to my aunt, panic in her eyes as she took in darkness on the sea. If Davorin got his slimy hands on Saga’s daughter . . . all gods, I blocked off the thoughts of what he might do.

“The battle lord comes!” I screamed at them. “He rides with that bleeding ship and we can’t hold against them.”

Valen shoved through the crowd. I pressed a hand to my chest, tears blurry on my lashes when Sol followed. His face was as stone, but he gave me a swift nod.

“Pull the fighters back,” Valen shouted at me.

I didn’t hesitate. “Olaf! Pull back. Pull away from the sea.”

Another horn blasted into the dawn, and at Olaf’s command, all the Rave captains down the line of warriors barked their orders to move back. Some sea fae remained trapped among us, but after the brutality of the Nightrender, most fought mightily hard to reach the shores.

Silas was among those who cut them down as they fled.

Gods, he was brutal yet unsure. He killed without thought of skill or finesse, but he killed with passion.

Rave surrounded us. Olaf joined, leaning over his knees, gasping. “What is the move?”

“We must place barriers between us.” Valen approached, eyes wild with his fury.

“Wise,” said Olaf, “if I recall, the sea fae have a fear of too much heat. We ought to set a row of torches.”

It seemed too simple a plan, but I didn’t know the sea fae. I was too young to remember much about the days when my father and our realms of old traded with the sea. I did recall tensions were always hovering around the two lands even then. For all I knew, the sea fae might grow sickly near fire.

But my unknowns shifted when a sharp, bitter voice broke over the crowd.

“Liar.” Junius Tjuv stepped forward. Niklas followed close behind, his eyes narrowed at Olaf. Gold rings lined his fingers and dug into his skin as he cracked his knuckles.

Niklas was swift and shoved Olaf fiercely. Knocking him back at least five paces.

“Hey, stop it,” I began, but paused when Olaf laughed.

“I’ve always found a bit of fascination with the body magic. A lie taster.” Olaf clicked his tongue and began to stagger back to his feet. “It would be a useful gift.”

Before I had time to move, Olaf’s head tilted back, mouth spread open. A burst of billowing blackness shot toward the sky. Screams followed. Silas yanked on my arm, pulling me back even further as the shadows gathered into a solid form, as they misted over broad shoulders and long legs.

Shouts—most, I was certain, were curses and roars from Ari—turned to chaos at my back when Olaf’s body fell into a heap. He moaned, but it was swiftly cut off when Davorin lifted one leg and stomped viciously on the man’s head once. Twice.

“No!” I screamed. Stupid of me to try, but it was horrid watching Olaf’s skull shatter under the force.

“No?” Davorin’s eyes flashed. “You would have a traitor to his lord live? The Rave are mine, little princess. Now, where is my raven? Her first.”

Never again. Ari was not the only one who promised Saga this bastard would not touch her. With Silas’s hand in mine, anger, swift and potent, flooded my veins. Deep in Silas’s chest a sound rumbled, and when I screamed the simple word—shield—much like that day on the shores of the isles, my skin burned.

A blast of power burst between us. Bright and fierce.

Davorin covered his face, a wall of darkness surrounding him like black stone. This time, he was ready. He knew us. Knew what to expect. As promised, this scourge of a man had returned more powerful.

Davorin laughed and began to lower his arms, but hissed his anger when Valen shoved in front of me and Silas and slammed his palms on the cobbled stones.

In a great roll of the earth, Raven Row began to crack. Davorin struggled to keep his footing. The split in the earth widened into a deep scar between the shore and us.

Without a command, Tor sprinted down one edge, Sol on the other.

“The earth bender!” A sea fae man still ten paces off in the shore roared his rage. They knew who’d slaughtered their king. But I took a bit of pleasure in the look of fear in their eyes as the snap of stone and soil roared over the violence of the waves their ships created.

A divide, deep and jagged, built a new kind of barrier. The gap was large enough it would take a running start to leap across. No doubt they’d build planks, but it would keep them at bay for a time.

It was made even better when thick fury spilled off Sol’s palms and blue flames ignited on Tor’s. My Lump and his consort directed each other as they spilled their bonding furies into Valen’s gap. Brilliant bursts of blue flames shot into the air with a dizzying pyre that would dissolve anyone who’d try to cross it.

With slow steps, I approached the edge. Through the flames, I held Davorin’s hateful gaze. His nose wrinkled with disdain.

“Again,” I shouted. “Bested. We all look forward to sending you to the hells.”

One corner of his mouth curved. “What a mouth you’ve gained, little one. When I have my hands on you, I’ll be sure to silence you the same way I silenced my raven. You share blood; I’m sure you’d love it just as much.”

He gripped his damn length over his trousers. A disgusting hint at what he meant. Silas curled his arm around my shoulders, holding me against him with a delicious sort of possessiveness. Davorin laughed, as though we’d behaved exactly as he’d hoped, then backed away from the flames. He was blocked from us. For now.

Sol wiped his brow with the back of his palm when the flames burned fiercest. Tor draped an arm around his waist, and they waited a few breaths, as if ensuring their magic would hold, then turned into us.

No waiting and with no real warning, and I flung my arms around his neck. The Sun Prince squeezed me against his body, his face against my neck.

“Gods, it is never a dull moment with you, girl.” He held me tighter. “I’ve been sick with worry over you.”

“You.” I smacked my palm on his back, tightening my hold. “I get a bleeding missive about dreary things, then a damn flame bursts on my tower. No other word from any of you lot. Only the knowledge that somewhere, you’re under attack. If I didn’t love you so much, Lump, I’d be hating you right now.”

“You’re all right then?” Sol pulled back to inspect me from head to foot.

“No. I’m not. I’m not all right. I’ve learned a great deal about myself. I’m rather powerful, you ought to know.”

“I already figured.”

“Well, good, because I am. Oh, and now I have a bleeding hjärta whom I love to his soul, so I bleeding understand how you all get so bleeding mad over your lovers.” I was rambling and couldn’t stop. Panic, fear, rage, all of it collided in my chest like a torrent of emotion that could not be caged.

Sol lifted his gaze to Silas for a breath. “All right. That one’s a bit new.”

“Yes, it is new. In truth, I rather like that part,” I said, rambling. “But now that . . . creature weakened us right under my nose. He was commanding the Rave positions and killing them with the sea fae, and I didn’t notice. I’m supposed to lead them.”

“The Rave?”

“Yes, my father’s army.” I waved my hands between us. “They’ve been here all along, but that’s not important right now.”

Sol pinched his lips and gave my shoulders a little shake. “Cal, slow down.”

I blew out a long breath and gripped his wrists from where his hands rested on my shoulders, as though he could steady the race of my pulse.

“That creature is a fae of deception,” he said firmly. “You couldn’t see the truth. We’re damn lucky to have Junie, or none of us would’ve seen him.”

True. It was true. Davorin knew how to hide in plain sight. He’d been doing it for centuries.

“We tried to twist fate,” I said. “We tried to offer protection and bring you to us, but the song wasn’t holding well. That’s why he’s here. How long has he been here?”

“He’s been tormenting all of us through illusions, or spell casts, so I don’t know. But we’re all here now. You can breathe. We have time. He cannot get through our pyre, you know that. We have a bit of time.”

I closed my eyes, nodding. “How long will the burn hold, do you think?”

“Through the night,” Sol said. “Maybe into the next day. You agree, Tor?”

“Should hold,” said Tor, glancing at the blue flames again.

“We didn’t anticipate a battle,” Sol said, a little breathless. “I know this is probably a lot for you to take in, but we have our children, Cal. My mother, she’s hurt; she was possessed by that bastard. Now, to get her back, Nik needs time with her. Now that he is here, is there anywhere we can go to get them all safe? He will be out for them, Mira most of all, I’m sure.”

All the littles. Mira. Lilianna. I knew Lilianna in such a different way now, my heart was racing at the thought of any of them being so vulnerable. Was anywhere safe?

“Hus Rose.” Silas’s soft, timid voice was the response. He kept back, no doubt, the sudden crowd unsettled him, but he’d offered us a place. His eyes were on me. “Hus Rose. It’s warded.”

“It’s perfect.” I gripped Sol’s arm. The Sun Prince was wholly intrigued by the sight of Silas. He said nothing, but I could see the way his mind spun with theories and questions as he studied my masked Whisper. “Hurry. Hus Rose is the palace here. It’s like a damn fortress with wards and rooms and protections. We can keep them safe there.”

Sol blinked and rushed back to the royals.

I was embraced briefly by Saga. Her hands shook, but she kept a steady expression.

I took her palms in mine. “He’s not going to touch you.”

“No,” she said with conviction. “He’s not. He’s not touching any of us. Never again.”

She turned toward the littles to gather her daughter. We all sensed the urgency. We’d embrace, cry, discuss everything later. Silas kept his head turned away from the others, but he shoved through them to reach the gates of Hus Rose first.

“Is anyone . . .” Ari pointed, following Silas with a befuddled expression. “No one is going to say anything about this one? Later, I suppose. By the by, I claim the right to stab Davorin no less than twenty times before Saga takes his head. Just so we are all quite clear.”

I would laugh if the whole of Raven Row wasn’t on fire and the shores were infected with enemies.

“Cuyler!” I caught sight of the blood fae in the crowd. He rushed to me and took hold of my hand. “Hells, I’m glad you’re back.”

“What do you need, Calista?” he said without hesitation.

“We need more warriors. Davorin took out a great many. We need healers for any wounded.”

Cuyler nodded and gestured for his watchers at his back. “We’ll see to it, Cal. Trust us at the gates, give us that burden. You and the Wraith, take the littles to safety, they’ve all been through a great deal. Then we’ll plan this . . . battle. We’re truly at war again.”

My jaw tightened. “We are. But we will fight to the end, just like my Shadow King says.”

“Go.” Cuyler gave me a reassuring look. “Your warriors are here to fight for you. For you all.”

I followed the crowd of royals and littles toward the gates. Silas had a hand on the iron bars, and with a low hum, he paused. The lock clicked and the wards at the first gates fell away in a rush of wind.

Silas turned around, nervous and obviously unsettled. “Inside, there are rooms aplenty.”

That was all he said before taking a long step to the side, slinking into the shadows of the knobby trees and tangles of branches. I hurried to his side.

When I clutched his hand, his palms were trembling. I tightened my grip. “You are magnificent, you know.”

He snorted, watching the folk of distant kingdoms traipse the gardens of Hus Rose. “I said five words. I’m a marvel.”

I chuckled. “I cannot imagine how overwhelming this is after so long alone. Yet, you have not once ceased trying to overcome the unease. To me, that makes you magnificent. Accept it.”

He grinned and lifted my knuckles to his lips.

“Hello, my lovely storyteller.” Niklas Tjuv approached with all the confidence of a man who’d not had his world torn to bits, who’d not survived battles in his own land. Between his palms he tossed a sack of some elixir. “That was rather frightening, wasn’t it?”

“I could’ve done without it.”

“Well, it seems we will work together again.”

“Good,” I said. “You’re one of my favorites. That’s an honor, by the way.”

Niklas beamed and pointed at Silas. “This one brings a slew of questions, doesn’t he? But first, Lilianna Ferus, she’s overcome with a manipulated curse of bloodlust, much like Valen.”

“Bleeding hells.”

“It’s a nasty bit, but I know how to end it. No death and dying on this one since it stems from that battle creature’s dark glamour. Thanks to our impressively cunning skill last time, I know how to ward against it. Still, to avoid her slipping from me and devouring us all, is there a safe place to work where she’ll be separated from the littles?”

“Silas?” I turned to him.

“Ah, one question answered,” Niklas chimed, still wholly unbothered.

Silas hesitated. When he spoke, he spoke to me, not the Falkyn. “There are . . . there are catacombs and cells in the gardens. Plenty of thick walls.”

“Perfect.” Niklas’s smile widened.

By now, I suspected the Falkyn was hiding his own unease to better aid in Silas’s clear discomfort at all the royals.

Silas cleared his throat. “I’ll . . . I’ll lead you there.” He lifted his gaze to mine. “I’ll meet you in the upper room.”

“Do you wish me to come with you?”

He seemed ready to shout a resounding, desperate yes, but he took in the wandering royals, the children, and shook his head. “Help them first.”

“We’ll be back before you know it, Cal.” Niklas winked, then faced Silas. “I can be silent, stoic, or quite pleasant in conversation. I’ll leave it to you to decide, Wraith. But I must say, I’m glad I get to meet you before Ari. No doubt he’ll take all your time soon enough.”

Silas’s face paled. I bit my cheek to hide my smile. He was trying, and even if he hadn’t been alone most of his life, my royals were overwhelming in the most beautiful ways. Once they learned all he’d done—they’d draw him into their arms and hearts, and he wouldn’t have one damn chance to refuse.

“You all better see this.” Cuyler waved from one of the walls surrounding Hus Rose.

There were a few pegs that created makeshift staircases so folk could walk atop the flat stones. Valen, Stieg, and Sol followed me to the higher alcoves on the walls, high enough we could see over the pyre wall.

My stomach lurched. “The royal ship is here.”

I was certain they called it the Ship of the Ever, or the Ever King’s Ship, or some other pretentious name, but those blood-red sails were at our shores. The sea fae that manned the massive vessel were disembarking with blades, rope, and torches in hand.

Davorin stood back, his eyes locked on Hus Rose. On us. The distance might’ve been tricking my eyes, but I swore to the hells that mimicker was grinning. Like he knew all the secrets of our world.

Low, distant chants and songs from the sea fae cast a haunting tension across the shattered roads of Raven Row.

From the royal ship, a man descended from the gangplank, a boy was by his side. The boy kept his face pointed down, and the man would occasionally stop and swat at the boy’s head if he stepped too close.

Atop the man’s head was an odd hat, made of three points, likely stitched in leather. He approached Davorin and muttered something. The battle lord hardly looked away, but the sea fae glared at the burning gap between us.

“That is Harald,” said Valen. “Thorvald’s brother. I remember him.”

“He’s the bastard who threatened to return,” Sol added.

Valen nodded, jaw tight. “In ten turns. This is no coincidence.”

“Davorin played his hand well,” Sol said, voice rough. “We sent him to the sea. We bleeding sent him to replace a new army. One filled with folk who despise us and will willingly fight for him.”

In this moment, I despised the Norns. They were cruel. Ari would blame himself somehow, no mistake. But as Sol told me, Davorin was slimy. A trickster. His moves were too unpredictable, and he had centuries of battle knowledge to use against us.

A gloomy tune rose from the royal ship when another boy, taller than the first, emerged. He paused at the top of the gangplank, taking in the broken Row. It was too far for me to gauge his expression, not to mention his head was covered in another one of those funny hats. But he was dressed in a black tunic, a thick belt on his slender waist, and the golden hilt of his sword caught the gleam of the morning light.

Crewmen shuffled around his back like a sort of shield.

The crewmen were the source of the gloomy tune. Their voices were ghoulish and dreary. Almost a touch mad.

I tilted my head, catching a few words.

. . . a man he’s not, we work we rot . . .

“Gods,” Stieg said with a small gasp. “That boy there. He’s . . . he’s the prince of the Ever Kingdom. Erik. That’s Thorvald’s son.”

Bleeding hells. My stomach tightened. I kept my sights on the boy as he walked, a bit stilted, down the plank. He kept his shoulder back in a smug confidence, and he had an . . . air about him. A darkness. But there was something more, something that almost tugged against me. Like he was important to know, to watch.

My Cursed King let out a long sigh at my side. “No, hear the song they sing after him?”

I strained to listen to the rest of the rumbling tune.

. . . no sleep until it’s through. A sailor’s grave is all we crave. We are the Ever King’s crew . . .

Valen frowned. His face was weary, his shoulders burdened when they slumped forward. “He’s not the prince of the Ever any longer. He’s now the damn Ever King.”

“When you meet the Ever King again,” I whispered, repeating the warning from the captured sea singer. “If you wish to keep your lives, I wouldn’t make him bleed.”

Valen and Stieg looked at me, brows raised.

“What does that mean, Cal?”

“It was a warning. We were attacked by sea singers. One of them warned us not to make him bleed.”

Stieg cursed. “Because his blood is poison. That was why the Black Palace took him as a tiny boy. But not only is his blood poison, it can heal great ailments. The boy must sing for his blood to heal; that is why Ivar and Britta tortured him, because he never broke. He never sang a word.”

I swallowed the scratch in my throat. Why was he important?

There was a connection here, some pull to my own seidr, and something told me this boy king had a part to play in it.