Song of Sorrows and Fate: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Broken Kingdoms Book 9)
Song of Sorrows and Fate: Chapter 35

I quickly gathered my old trousers from the upper rooms and adjusted the laces around my waist as Silas and I hurried toward the great hall. Whatever was about to happen, torn clothes from a beautiful, rough-handed moment in the thicket wouldn’t do.

Commotion rose from the hall. Royals, warriors, their guilds, and a few confused, sleepy littles bustled about, strapping blades, muttering plans, inspecting old maps of the first kingdom with the guidance of the Golden King and Raven Queen.

“Auntie Cal.” Livia Ferus hugged my waist. “Your room was magic. Not one nightmare came.”

I gave Silas a smug grin and stroked Livia’s dark, silky hair. “Told you.”

A boy with messy hair standing on end approached, munching on a juicy blood pear. “This where you’re living now, Cal?” His grassy green eyes flicked to the dark rafters overhead. “Sorta dusty like, but there’s a lot of rooms.”

I released Livia and mussed the boy’s hair even more. “Keep out of trouble, Jonas.”

He puffed out his lips.

I grinned and lowered my voice. “Or at least, don’t get caught.”

He took another bite, smiling and showing off a missing tooth he must’ve recently lost in the back of his mouth. “Never do. Unless Livie—” he glared at the Night Folk princess, “tattles.”

“I don’t tattle, Jo. You’re just not as tricky as you think.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically and sloppily licked his fingers. “You’re a tattler when you don’t get whatcha want. A big, blubbering baby.”

I chuckled when Livia attacked. First, she hooked her arms around the boy’s neck. Jonas tugged on her messy, sleep tossed braid. She cried out and tugged on the new piercing in his ear.

“Hey!” Jonas said through a grunt. “That’ll bleed, Livie!”

“Aww, big, blubbering baby.”

Jonas grunted and sprinted after her, eyes black as his father’s, when Livia took off squealing in an odd kind of delight.

“Will he hurt her?” Silas whispered.

“No. Just watch.” I patted his chest and made it to the count of five before three more littles snapped into action and chased after the other two—all on varying sides of the war. Mira sided with Livia this time. Sander, unsurprisingly, did as well. I suspected only because he liked to torment his brother.

“Ah,” I said. “Alek is on Jonas’s side this time. Usually he’s with Liv.”

“Do you sense it?” Silas whispered beside my ear.

His words drew me to a pause. Long enough I felt a heat gathering in my chest, a sign that words wanted to shape. A path of fate that would lead to a heart’s song was here.

It was coming from the littles. All hells, one of those young royals had a fated path taking shape.

“Oh no.” My shoulders slumped.

“Could be a good thing,” Silas said. “Might mean our fates do not end here.”

“Let’s go with that option.” My stomach burned in sharp, bile-soaked waves. Unable to shake the notion that everything would soon change, I would cling to any hope that led us to think we would emerge out the other side of this battle.

We left the youngest among us to torment and live freely for a little longer and joined the rest of the crowd gathered in the center of the hall.

“Flame’s nearly gone.” Niklas was going around to everyone and handing them something. “Find a place to wear this unless you want that creature to wear your skin.”

He paused at me and wiggled a bracelet made from twine. “Ankle or wrist, Cal. Make sure it’s secure enough they need to cut off your limb to remove it.”

“More of your elixirs?”

“Same ones from the fae isles. The wards to keep him from mimicking our likeness or possessing us. But if you recall, he can also absorb the different magicks of folk. This’ll see to it he can’t.”

I tightened the bracelet until it cut into my skin. Niklas handed one to Silas with a nod, not a word.

“You made these in one night?” I asked.

Niklas offered a dramatic gasp, as though he were affronted. “What do you take me for, girl? I’ve had these bleeding prepared for turns. We all knew this damn nightmare would be back one day. If you sang us here, many thanks for keeping my stores intact during the shift. Then again, I have complaints about my nest being above ground.”

I chuckled. “Win us this fight, and I’ll dig you a bleeding new Nest.”

“Done.” Niklas winked, then moved on to others, seeing to it that everyone bore his tricky ward somewhere on their person.

Folk who’d stand in the battle were given clay plugs meant for the ears. Cuyler had been the one to warn the warriors of sea singers and sirens. Wretched songs of lust and desire would not be our undoing. To step into the Otherworld because we’d died from an untamed ache between our thighs would be horrifying once we faced those who’d fallen in much grander ways.

Warriors across the realms secured blades—seax, axes, short blades, bows, arrows. Halvar Atra barked his commands at the Ettan warriors. Kase and Malin were more subtle, tucked close with their thievish kind of people; likely they were trading schemes, ploys, tricks, any sort of idea the Eastern realms might have.

Then, there was Gorm and Cuyler and the lord of the Serpent Court. The skinny young fae who’d pleaded for sanctuary with the Court of Blood so long ago had thickened to a man. A beard coated his face, and he was clearly respected by his forest folk.

Ari and Saga spoke with the Rave. I grinned. Many of the warriors leveled Saga with the respect of their personal royal. She was, after all, once their princess.

Odd to see the crossover. True, the royals addressed their own folk, but there were a great many who had started to behave like our army was one entity.

It was. For we were one, at long last; the people of the fae realms were one again. No jealousy pitted us against each other for having different abilities. No order of who held more power. We were one people, with different talents, different strengths, all of us were fighting for our freedom.

“Archers.” Herja Ferus, donned in battle fatigues and leather straps for her bows and knives, stomped in front of the line of warriors. “We take the towers. We will be the ones defending the palace of Hus Rose. Not one damn sea fae gets through.”

Gunnar Strom followed his mother. Playful and sly in most instances, Gunnar looked closer to a damn assassin. Donned in black from head to foot, his hair was covered in a black cowl, and on his neck was a black fabric that could be pulled over his mouth.

A thieving prince, born of Etta, but Kryv in his heart.

Beside them, Valen helped Elise fasten her sheath a little tighter to her belt. She secured the braids of his hair to ensure nothing fell in his eyes. Valen’s father looked at me across the hall.

My pulse quickened as he approached.

Arvad Ferus looked a great deal like his sons, but for piercings in his ears, and a bit more scruff on his chin than Sol and Valen. “I was told the truth only this morning.”

I swallowed thickly. “Disconcerting, isn’t it?”

“You could say that.” Arvad rested a hand on the hilt of his blade. “I remember the storyteller who guided my mother. I will never forget Greta. Which is the real you?”

“This.” I gestured to my figure. “I have always been me, merely different faces in different times.”

Arvad crossed his arms over his chest. “I never knew such power existed, but I am glad we had you on our side.”

“I am glad for the same now.”

The former king scanned the hall. Time was fleeting. Warriors were in their final leathers. Blades were secure. Soon, we’d stand at the gates.

“How is Lilianna?” I asked.

Arvad dragged a hand down his face, worry written in every line. “Sleeping. But all our cursed fell into a strange sleep when the kingdom shifted. Niklas says we wait to see if his elixir clears the dark glamour in her blood. I am told it takes time. I am told I will need to be patient. Anyone tells me that again, I might kill them.”

I offered a look of sympathy. “I hope when she wakes, her world will once more be safe again.”

I hoped we were all alive.

A horn echoed over the hall. Halvar stepped in front of the doors that would lead us to the gates.

“Four kingdoms have united this day to fight common enemies, but we have always been united. We all know the truth of our world. We all know what has brought us here. Alvers, Night Folk, blood fae, mortals, we all stand together to fight for our kingdom. One land. One people.”

On the final word he raised his sword and the hall erupted into cheers and roars. From the isles of the South to the peaks of the North, folk raised their blades, ready to bleed, to die, for the freedom every bleeding soul deserved.

“Come with me for a moment.” Silas took hold of my hand and ushered me to an alcove in a hallway that led to the staircase to the upper floors. From the narrow space, he removed a blade wrapped in fur. “I have saved this for you.”

“What is it?”

“It was Annon’s. He gave it to me before the king cast his curse, knowing what would happen. He wanted you to have it when you took your place in this fight.”

The blade was made of fine bronze toned steel. Black, polished onyx lined the hilt and guard, and silver lined the edges. A stunning weapon. Not too heavy it would ache in my grip too soon, but made to strike, and strike hard. Behind it, Silas took out a short blade and blacksteel dagger.

“And those?”

He smirked. “These were mine.”

“Ah, when you pretended to be a Rave.”

“I was a Rave youth. Same thing.”

I snorted and pecked his lips. “Not even close, Whisper.”

Strapped with our weapons, we returned to the hall in time to witness warriors bidding farewell to their families who’d traveled with them, to the royals doing much the same with much more somber little faces than moments ago.

Mira cried into Saga’s stomach, while she clung to Ari’s hand, linking the three of them together. A few ladies from the blood court and serpent court were there to attend the little princess. Along with two watchers from Cuyler’s men.

Gorm stood beside his son. They both dipped their heads when I approached.

“Gorm,” I said. “You ought to know, Cuyler has done every irritating duty to impeccable standards. You ought to be proud.”

Lord Gorm was not an expressive fae, but his mouth quirked in a small grin. “Then I shall be, My Lady.”

“Also, I’ve demanded the use of My Lady be dropped from all languages.”

“It is a title that came with the blood in your veins,” Gorm said plainly. “Like your blood cannot be drained, a title of royal cannot be dropped unless you are ousted. I have no plans to oust you, so the title remains.”

“Then as a royal, I alter the rule.”

“You cannot declare a change to a rule, My Lady. It takes discussion and counsel, and I will once more remind you—the title is made by your blood. I have no intentions of draining your veins, so alas, the title remains.”

“I’ve made it a rule, and it’s done. Titles are finished.”

Gorm sniffed around me, then shook his head. “Your blood has not changed. You remain, My Lady.”

I rolled my eyes and looked to Cuyler. “I gave it a good try.”

Silas followed close behind as we made our way to the others. Livia fought to keep her chin from quivering as Valen kissed her cheek and Elise pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Sander was mid-promise to Kase and Malin that he would keep watch on the others and keep them away from windows. Jonas, the boy of mischief, was also one who felt a great deal. He’d turned away from his family, face pointed at the ground, greatly interested in the knife he kept spinning.

I held my breath when Silas paused, then turned to the boy. What was he doing?

Slowly, Silas knelt. “Boy.”

Jonas lifted his bright eyes. “Wraith. That’s what Daj calls you.”

“You can call me that,” said Silas. “You do not bid your mother and father farewell?”

Jonas’s mouth pinched. He shook his head.

“Why?”

“Because.”

My heart cinched at the subtle croak in his small voice.

“It’s hard to say goodbye,” Silas said, voice soft. Almost uncertain. It was as though, all at once, he realized he was speaking, and the discomfort of interacting with others was taking hold. “Sometimes it feels like there may not be another hello.”

Jonas blinked rapidly, then slowly nodded.

By now, Kase and Malin were watching, listening. Malin pressed a hand to her heart. Kase’s eyes were shadowed. The slippery Nightrender thought we hadn’t figured out that meant he wanted to hide.

Silas held out the dagger he’d taken from the alcove. “This was given to me by a man I greatly respected when I was no bigger than you. He often left to fight battles, and he told me when he left, there would always be another hello. Even if it takes place in the Otherworld, he would be there waiting to say hello. No one who leaves through that door today will ever truly leave.”

A tear dripped onto Jonas’s cheek.

“Keep it.” Silas handed the dagger to the boy and curled his small, dirty fingers around the hilt. “I’m placing you in charge of this place. I’ve lived here for centuries, and I think you’ll like it.”

“Why’s that?” Jonas hugged the dagger to his body.

Silas’s mouth flinched like he might smile. “There are plenty of places to hide and play tricks on others. I think if you inspect the music room on the upper levels, you might replace ways to make folk think there are haunts chasing them.”

A new kind of delight brightened Jonas’s eyes. No mistake, a dozen ideas were already whirling through his head about how he could torment all the littles.

Silas rose from his knee. “I’ll be back for that dagger.”

“I’ll keep it safe,” Jonas promised. He ogled the blade with a touch of admiration, then looked back to Silas. “Why don’t you show your face?”

“It was injured.”

“Daj has lots of scars on his back, since he got rifted as a boy. That means his skin got all torn apart. You can show your face. We’re not scared of scars. I’ve even got this one—” He jutted out his skinny wrist, complete with a white scar in the center. “Fell down the bleeding stairs, though, so it’s not that great.”

With care, Silas reached a hand to the back of the mask. He paused, unsettled. In truth, I did not think the mask was to hide the scar out of shame. More like the mask had become a safe place for Silas to merely hide.

He pulled it away and Jonas tilted his head to glance at the wound. The boy grinned. “That’s pretty big. Bet it’ll scare that stupid bit—”

“Jonas,” Malin snapped, and Kase used a quick flick to his boy’s ear.

His shoulders hiked up in surprise, as though he’d forgotten his family was behind him. “I mean that dark fae out there, I bet it’ll scare him.”

Silas gave a small smile, hardly there, but I took note of it anyway. Jonas turned into his mother and now clutched her waist in a tight embrace, the dagger still in hand. Kase studied Silas for a long, drawn pause. My Shadow King blinked, clearing away the inky pitch over his eyes, and held out an arm.

For a breath, Silas merely looked at his hand, then clasped Kase’s forearm.

“Doesn’t need to be said?” asked Kase.

“No.”

“Well, I’d like to hear it,” I said. “Go on, Shadow King, tell him that it means something in your secretly soft heart that he comforted your boy. Those were the most words I’ve ever heard Silas speak at once, so go on. Speak your weepy gratitude.”

Kase smirked and released Silas’s arm, eyes trained on me. All he gave me was a stern, “No.”

He returned to his family, pulling his twins tightly against him for a final farewell.

Outside Hus Rose, a horn blew. Then another. Silas stiffened and clutched my hand. “The pyre is fading.”

I closed my eyes. It was time.

Shouts echoed through the hall. Every ruler of the varying realms snapped their warriors into line with others. Those remaining behind in Hus Rose with the littles and injured began to gather their charges. A few wails from the children made me want to scream myself. Scream in rage at Davorin for all the pain he’d caused.

I clenched my teeth to muffle the sob in my throat as I watched young Aleksi be tugged away from Sol and Tor by a woman with gentle eyes. The boy was fighting damn hard not to cry, but the tears were there in his gilded eyes.

Only when the boy was out of sight did his fathers bend. Sol’s shoulders curved. Tor gripped Sol’s arm, as though he might keep him steady.

Sing the words.

I turned to Silas. “Did you say that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Sing the words? Like a strike to the back of my skull, the thought came. I fumbled into the pocket of the trousers, the same ones I’d worn after replaceing Silas again. When the parchment was in hand, I let out a squeal of relief.

“His song.” I wheeled on Silas. “This was the song for Sol, remember? I said the words felt like they belonged to him. But I wrote them down because . . .” I lifted my gaze to him. “I hadn’t yet accepted us. Danna said sing it in the right moment. I vowed I’d always protect him. Help me bring them back to their son.”

I wanted to have songs for all my bleeding royals, but I could not discount there was some path twisting here. I’d felt it since I laid eyes on Sol and Tor, since I first received his worry-laden missive.

Silas stepped close and cupped a hand under my palm, holding the parchment with me. “You have the words, Little Rose.”

I closed my eyes. Silas dropped his brow to mine. The words were soft, barely audible, and his voice was smooth. Deep, low, powerful.

“A song of blood keeps life for the one you love. Trust and let it be, in this, a tale of land and sea.”

Before Silas, written tales created a tether between us. The flame sent the words to his voice. Now, together, the small parchment ignited in a black flame on its own. I startled but held firm and finished the tale. At the final word, Silas’s gentle hum faded, and the last corner of the parchment turned to ash in our hands.

Seidr filled my veins. Something had been cast. Something had been done. I glanced over at my Sun Prince. He still looked to where his boy had been taken away, but I smiled.

Whatever happened, I had a feeling fate would be on his side.

“Pyre is gone!” Stieg shouted near the window.

My pulse quickened. I took hold of Silas’s hand. I never was one to draw much attention to myself, but I turned into the hall and lifted my voice. “Now, let’s go kill this bastard and his bones are scattered in every palace of this realm.”