Broken Kingdoms

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The Ambassador

The Southern Isles: Foreign Dignitary Longhouse

Three hells I enjoyed a good fete. This was a strange turn. Well, in truth, most of my Jul Fetes had been strange.

Born during the Timoran Raids, all we Night Folk could do most turns was sneak a few walnuts to roast, or boiled sweet blossoms for syrups over oat cakes. Then, during the turns in Ruskig, we more drank heaps of ale to keep warm and pounded a few rawhide drums to dance, laugh, or bed folk to help us forget we were starving in a ragged refuge.

Last turn had been the first Jul where it was almost normal. The second turn after the war, in Ravenspire with Night Folk, Ettans, and Timorans as if we’d not been mortal enemies for centuries.

There’d been a fragrant spruce tree, saffron cakes, honey glazes, and peace. Most of all peace.

I hoped they were all doing the same this turn.

I missed my folk, but was not disappointed the way the Southern Isles celebrated. Frey had returned home with the prince, while Stieg and I remained to learn how Bracken and his people hosted their winter revels.

Honey wine and folk tales were passed around a center fire. Seers from the Court of Stars sang ballads of the gods blessing the isles, they recanted poems of the fae folk who’d discovered the hot springs in the Fate’s Ocean and dove inside, only to emerge on the rocky shores of the Court of Blood. There, rivers and springs split, carving out the Mirror Lake which reflected the starlight to three more regions. The people divided into the four courts.

It made little sense, but lore and myths weren’t meant to be logical.

Huldra folk danced with forest fae, regaling the tales of their maidens luring men and women into the trees in tales of old. Lyres and drums brought songs of the sea kings beneath the waves with their courts of water nyks and sirens.

I shuddered. Those were not myths. I’d traveled with a bastard of a sea king beneath the waves to gather the storyteller girl. Thorvald never took me to his kingdom of the Ever, but the way he powered his strange ship through the waves was damp, dark, and disorienting.

I’d stick to land.

Bracken’s court storyteller stepped into the center when sugared cloudberries were passed around and finished the revel with the ghostly tale of how all the ravens disappeared in the South. A fact, I’d noticed over time.

True enough there were no ravens here like there were in Etta. Crows, sparrows, pheasants, they were all accounted for, but no ravens.

“Times of riots, times of chaos,” she’d said, enunciating the words riot and chaos as if we were supposed to take some sort of clue from the words. “These were the days when the lands were divided and the earth swallowed the raven folk, sending them back to the gods as wise counselors and guardians of a world destroyed by anger and greed and those who fought against fate...”

More lore, but I’d lost interest in the tale. Ravens unsettled me. And I did not know how to tell the storyteller woman she was wrong. There was a raven in the South. It haunted me, plagued me. After the tale, I was beginning to wonder if I was imagining the beast.

But, no, others had seen the creature. It had pecked at blood fae during the battels of the East, it had led me straight into a bleeding troll burrow.

I’d caught glimpses of the bird here. But the people of the South were bleeding superstitious. No doubt they’d think me cursed if I admitted I was followed by a raven.

“It was an honor to have you with us this turn.” Bracken said, a little slurred as he clapped my back. His pale hair was tousled, and the king fumbled once or twice, drunk on ale before Sofia caught him around the waist.

“All right, My King,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s get you back to the Borough before someone beheads you and takes your throne.”

Bracken laughed and stroked Sofia’s long, auburn hair. “Sof, Sofie, Sof. Have I told you how lovely you look in the moonlight?”

“Many times,” she said with a sigh. “And always when you are drunk with no memory of it in the morning.”

Sofia offered me a small wave before guiding her king toward the mossy wood and wattle royal house on the highest knoll.

I searched the space for Stieg, only to see him chatting rather closely with a forest fae woman with milk blue skin and pale green hair. Best to leave him be. I was content... until I drew closer to the longhouse provided us by the Court of Hearts.

The trek turned lonelier and lonelier the nearer I came.

There was once a time when Jul was lively in the Sekundär household. My mother would make it so. She’d dance about, placing crowns of holly and candles on my sisters’ heads, then my father and I would play the gift giver, meager as those gifts were.

As a boy I’d spent weeks before Jul whittling my sisters’ wooden charms for their braids, or dolls, or rough-cut rings.

Old pains dug deep into my chest, bringing me to pause outside the longhouse door. My hand went to my pocket. Perhaps I carved them turn after turn out of nostalgia, or habit, but I palmed the beads meant for a woman’s hair.

No one to claim them, most turns I tossed them into a creek and watched them float away.

I closed my fist tightly, the ache blooming deeper until my blood scorched like poison. I shook away the thoughts and stepped into the quiet longhouse.

Yes, I enjoyed a good Jul revel, but without fail, the nightmares would be fiercest tonight. Times of togetherness always managed to remind me of how very alone I truly was in this damn world.

I dropped my seax onto the center of the table in the hall with a clatter. Bowls and wooden plates rumbled.

A squeak of surprise drew my attention to the inglenook.

I groaned when Saga shot to her feet. Hells, the woman was an annoyance I never wanted to leave. And that annoyed me even more. Why did she need to wear so many clothes that covered the curve of her throat, or the length of her arms, yet they were still fitted enough I could see every bleeding curve?

Why did she need to let her dark hair loose at night?

And why did those damn storm cloud eyes look more like silver when she glared at me with such venom?

I bowed at the waist with condescension. “God Jul, my sweet menace.”

“I didn’t expect you back yet. Or at least not alone.”

“Ah, wondering what things go on in my bed?” I grinned. “I could show you if you beg.”

Saga tilted her head and sneered. “I’d rather pluck off my own fingernails and eat them.”

“So descriptive. I’ll get the plates.”

She let out a sound of frustration. “Gods. I’m going to bed, unless the master is too drunk to make it to his room, in which case I’m still going to bed, but with the added hope you’ll slip on the staircase and tumble all the way down.”

I grinned viciously and trapped her against the wall before she could slip away.

Saga spoke big, but in this moment she looked at me, crowding her, pinning her, with a touch of fear. Maybe something else. I noted how her gaze drifted to my mouth, then back to my eyes. For all I knew she wanted to ram a fire stoker down my throat, but I was just drunk enough to think she might want to taste me more.

“You’d weep, admit it.”

Saga’s breaths deepened. “I’d sob with joy.”

“You know, in old times serfs loved their masters so much when they died, they sacrificed themselves to the gods to join them.” I slid my palm to her throat. “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same.”

She stiffened, but the race of her heart was too intoxicating to pull back. Saga narrowed her eyes. “I would not even waste the thought.”

I chuckled, my thumb tugging on her bottom lip. I half expected her to try to bite off the tip, but she drew in a sharp gasp instead. Gods, perhaps I was drunker than I thought because I liked that sound. I thought of all the other places I wouldn’t mind if she made that sound again.

I was pathetic. She was a traitor, a weak-spined woman who stood with corruption, and now she was my servant for a hundred turns.

But despite all that, I would blame the ale until I met the Otherworld as the reason I dug into my trousers and removed the whittled beads. I forced Saga’s soot covered palm open and placed the pretty little things inside, curling her fingers around them.

“For Jul,” I said, voice rough. “Don’t say your master never gave you anything.”

Saga’s brow furrowed when I stepped away. She studied the beads, a little stunned, perhaps disgusted. I didn’t know. I turned and hurried to the stairs.

Halfway up, she spoke, drawing me to a pause.

“You made these?”

“I did.”

“You... want me to have them?”

“That is usually the idea behind giving someone something, yes.”

She hesitated. “I will never say this again, Ari, but... they’re lovely.”

I made certain I was still turned away so she wouldn’t see the smile twist in the corner of my mouth. I hated her. She despised me. But there was something unspoken between the antagonistic words.

I wouldn’t dwell on it, I wouldn’t even try to break it apart to analyze, I’d simply let it be.

At my door, I paused. There on the floor was a basket of freshly frosted saffron buns with dried currants in the pretty braided knots.

Saga hurried past my door, aimed at the ladder that led to the loft where she slept. She caught my gaze, my arched brow, and frowned. “Don’t think too deeply and hurt your small mind, master. I made them for myself and after I ate my fill there were some leftover.”

“And then simply... left them by my door.”

Saga huffed and began to stomp up the ladder pegs. “They are for you and Stieg. Gods. Forget I even tried to be amicable. You’re impossible.”

At that she slammed the hatch to the loft shut on my face, only her heavy steps heard above. I chuckled and picked up the basket, biting into the soft bun.

It was a lonely Jul, but... I supposed it had been made slightly better by a reluctant captive who hated me.

I would never tell her.

Never.

“DOES IT HURT?” I felt ridiculous even asking, but in truth I had no idea what I was about to face.

Lilianna stopped threading my hair through gold and silver rings and met my reflection in the mirror.

In the turn since the war ended, I’d grown close with Valen’s mother. There were things she’d say that reminded me of the woman from the journals, but other times she revealed a pensive, thoughtful side.

One thing I knew for certain Lilianna could be as brutal as she was kind when it came to threats against her family.

She squeezed my shoulders. “I would not say it is painful, but it is astrange sensation.” She chuckled and picked up my hair again. “Don’t fret too much, but I was the same when I went through the change.”

Förӓndra. The moment when a mortal is changed to live out their days with the length of Night Folk.

Days after the war ended, Valen asked me if it was my desire, and I readily agreed. To live centuries with the man who stole my heart and soul? I could think of nothing I wanted more. But ruling an infantile kingdom took time, and only now did Valen insist we find a moment to complete the ceremony.

In truth, I think everyone was thrilled. Anything to have a feast and celebration.

“You look lovely,” Lilianna said with a smile. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, but inside my stomach turned over on itself. I was anything but ready.

True, my husband had fury, my family had fury, but the idea of using fury in my own body to change something about me was eerie and unknown.

Lilianna slipped her arm through mine and walked with me out of the chamber I shared with her son.

When his family passed the crown back to Valen, for a moment I thought I would rarely see my husband. True enough, there were days when we slumped into bed too tired to undress. But the man vowed he would make time for us, away from burdens, away from the pressure of ruling a kingdom, and he’d kept his vow.

Whether it was riding into the hills for a bit of peace together, or reading side by side in our bed chamber, simply relishing a bit of silence, it would never be said of the king of Etta that he did not tend to his queen.

The corridors of Castle Ravenspire were packed with cooks, and maids, and stewards, all shouting orders and directions as guests gathered in the courtyards.

On the stone steps leading out of the castle, Herja faced a battle of her own.

Both Lilianna and I bit down a laugh as Laila tugged at the fine, pleated skirt her mother had forced her to wear—to keep clean—while she pointed and pouted at Ellis and the other children running around near the thick, wild moonvane shrubs at the far side of the yard.

“No more crawling on the ground,” Herja insisted. “You’re staining your knees.”

“Maj.” Laila whined and the instant Herja released her, the girl sprinted toward the young ones, a smile on her face.

“She counts as three children in one,” Herja muttered to her mother.

“Ah, I recall a daughter of mine being much the same.” Lilianna laughed.

“Have you heard anything?” I whispered, like a secret between us. I suppose in some ways it was. Most of the kingdom knew the princess of Etta had sent her son with the Alvers of the East, less knew it was because the search for his father had begun.

Herja’s shoulders slumped as she pulled out a folded sheet of parchment from a pocket in her skirt. “I received this from Gunnar two nights ago. They... they found him.”

Lilianna pressed a hand to her chest with a gasp.

My eyes widened. “Herja! Why didn’t you say anything? Where is he? Do we need to go retrieve them?”

All gods this could wait if Hagen had been found.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “They found him... for a moment. Gunnar could not tell me everything, only that the Nightrender has a grand scheme in mind, and it involves that wretched masquerade he kept talking about. If it is as terrible as he said, if Hagen has been taken to it, what if they never find him?”

My hand fell to her arm. “They will. If this last turn has shown us anything it is that our shadowy friend is clever and cunning in ways we did not realize before.”

Herja nodded, and a faint smile crept over her mouth. “Gunnar did mention the Nightrender has brought in a woman out of necessity. Someone close to Hagen, I suppose. My son was quick to mention if anyone will break the Nightrender it is this woman. He has often said most people shrink away from the man—apparently, this woman shouts right back at him.”

I snorted a laugh. Mostly because I had stood, had battled, beside the Nightrender. He was terrifying, mysterious, and deadly. I would very much like to see a woman butt up against the man and give him a taste of his own snarl.

“They are closer, my love.” Lilianna said, stroking Herja’s hair. “Where they didn’t know what had become of him, now they do. When they find him, we will be there to reunite your family.”

Herja smiled at her mother, but there was fear behind her eyes.

I prayed to the gods that someday soon we could wipe the fear away completely.

Herja joined us in the courtyard where the people who mattered most gathered.

Sol sat on a stone bench, leaning back, one arm draped around Tor’s shoulders. They were at ease, happy. Powerful individually, but together, Tor and Sol were fierce and a wonder to see.

All those turns of reading about the Sun Prince did not do justice. He was clever, vicious, and the one who drew the most laughter from everyone. Usually at the expense of his brother. Tor was a changed man. Still cunning and reserved, but there was a brightness in his eyes he’d lacked before.

To have his heart and love restored had breathed a new kind of life.

Sol laughed at something Tor said as Halvar and Kari joined them on the benches.

I never knew Halvar to be a nervous man. Blithe, playful, and deadly, true. But nervous—I would not believe it if I did not see the way he shifted around his wife now that she was to deliver their first child any day.

Kari looked ready to stab him with her knife.

I snickered as she swatted his arm. “I am capable of sitting on my own!”

Tor and Sol laughed, teasing the first knight more than anyone.

Halvar huffed and sat beside Kari. “Love, I have watched you carve out throats, but this tiny creature is more frightening than any battle.”

Kari shook her head, grinning. “You are the first knight of an entire kingdom and a little infant frightens you.”

“No question. Yes.” He kissed the back of her hand, only laughing when Kari pressed too many kisses against the taper of his ear.

“Ari has returned for the ceremony,” Herja said, pointing toward a small gathering. The Guild of Shade circled the tallest, fairest of the Night Folk.

My heart skipped when Valen carved through them, Ari at his shoulder, travel worn but with his familiar sly grin.

I quickened my step and hurried to them.

Valen Ferus warmed my soul. Some of my favorite moments were watching him when he did not know I was close. As he spoke with Ari, I caught the small flickers of a grin he shared only with those closest to him. I appreciated the strength of his body, the broad shoulders that practiced and sparred with his knights daily.

He was a fair king. Brutal, like he’d been in Ruskig, but fair. Loved.

He listened to others, his council, his queen. One thing would always be said of Valen—he did not rule his kingdom thinking he knew it all.

Truth be told, even a turn after our battle ended, he still shied from praise. Still grimaced—slightly—when folk sang his praises and bent the knee whenever he stepped into the room. With the Guild of Shade, his siblings, with those close to us, he did not need to worry about their sincerity.

They were all glad to tell him when he was being a feckless fool and when he was not.

More than silently observing him, my favorite moment of all was when Valen looked to me. Those first glances after being apart when those midnight eyes found me, stirred my heart more than anything.

He lifted his eyes away from Ari, as if he sensed my stare. His strong face softened, and a smile curved over his lips instantly. Without hesitation he abandoned Ari’s side and came to mine.

I melted against his chest, my arms around his waist as he tilted my chin up.

“I have not seen you nearly enough today,” he whispered against my lips.

“Agreed, My King.” I kissed him slowly. Not long enough, but it would do me no favors getting lost in my husband when I could do nothing about it with half our kingdom surrounding us. When I pulled away, I stayed nestled against Valen’s side and glanced at Ari. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it back. How is the South?”

Ari scratched the back of his head. “Many things, dear Elise. Strange most of all.”

“You’ve found favor in their court, though.”

Ari snorted. “In one of the courts. It is strange how many courts they keep.” Ari frowned. I knew him well enough by now to know he was bothered by something.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “There is something off about the kingdom. Like there is a secret kept right under my nose and I cannot find the end of the thread to begin unraveling it.”

Valen chuckled. “What Ari is not telling you is that he is vexed.”

“My King, I am not above hitting you,” Ari grumbled.

“It will be worth it,” said Valen. He turned his playful gaze to me. “Ari is our ambassador, but he’s gained favor with one of the Southern princes. He has been invited to serve in his elite pack of guards, true?”

I lifted my brows. “Ari, that’s good, right? To gain the ear of the leaders for our allies.”

“Yes, we are earning allies, My Queen.”

There was something I was missing. “I don’t see what troubles you then.”

Valen laughed again. “Apparently the princesses and mortal queen of the same court have their own knights.”

“More like mercenaries. And not all that impressive of mercenaries.” Ari folded his arms over his chest, frowning more than I’d ever seen him frown. It was almost humorous.

And Valen exploited it. “The queen’s guard is made of women, Elise. I’m afraid our friend has been vexed by one.”

“I am not vexed. Irritation and disdain do not equate to vexation.” Ari groaned. “You would understand if you met the insufferable woman. Hells, at least I can return here to where I thought I had friends and family. Not a king who takes a great deal of joy in my suffering.”

I laughed and Ari frowned again. “Poor Ari. It sounds like he has met a woman who is as wordy and coy as him.”

Valen pressed a kiss to the side of my head, laughing into my hair. “That is exactly what I said. I imagine this woman is likely as irritating as him, probably makes more people laugh, and it bothers him.”

“She makes no one laugh,” Ari pouted. “In fact, she’s sinister. I feel it. There is something off with her, and I will find out what it is. When I save another kingdom, My King and Queen, and you will once again kiss my feet.”

He began to stomp away. Valen chuckled. “I have never, nor will I ever kiss your feet.”

“It is only a matter of time, My King!” Ari shouted over his shoulder.

I slipped my fingers into Valen’s and smiled. “It sounds like Ari will have a story to tell when his time in the South is done.”

Valen nodded. “He is gaining prestige there. I should not be surprised; he has a way of climbing in status wherever he lives it seems.” Valen paused, his smile fading slightly. “He is looking into the legend of the four queens. Ari thinks there is merit to the tale.”

I lifted one brow. “Then that would mean—”

“You could be one of these queens fated to free all magic.”

I tightened my grip on his hand. The Nightrender had left with a vague insinuation I could be a queen of fates’ gifts. “Then, that would mean the East—”

“Would have one.”

“And Ari will need to seek out the Southern queen.”

“They have several courts with several queens,” Valen said. “He will have his work cut out for him to find which one might have a connection to fate’s gifts.”

“Should we write to Calista?” We had not heard a great deal from our storyteller in the West.

“Possibly. Let’s get through today, then we can think outside our borders.”

He kissed my palm and began walking us toward the front of the courtyard.

I’d received one missive letting me know Calista was glad my throat wasn’t slit in our war and that rumors of our return to power had caused an uproar in her kingdom she didn’t much appreciate. But she assured me she’d taken advantage of the chaos to serve her own interests.

In truth, Calista wrote to Sol more than anyone.

He’d been her cellmate for turns, after all. Now that his mind was restored, they took a great deal of pleasure writing missives of jokes about certain guards during their captivity.

I scoffed simply thinking of the strange girl. She was fearsome and brave in her own way, but that she wrote letters to the Sun Prince, like a kind of older brother, gave away the child still inside.

“Ready for this?” Valen asked.

I squeezed his hand. “I think so.”

At the edge of the courtyard, Arvad stood near Elder Klok. He held out his hand for Lilianna. Sol and Tor sat on plush seats on one side of a long table. Herja took a place beside her parents on the opposite side.

My stomach dropped.

Valen, perceptive as always, lifted my knuckles to his lips, smiling. “Only if you wish, Elise. This only happens if you wish it to.”

“I do,” I whispered.

He pressed one hand to the side of my face. “I would not do anything to harm you. It is painless.”

I kissed him quickly, then held tighter to his hand as we faced Elder Klok.

“Kneel, My Queen,” Klok said.

I lowered to my knees, the damp soil soaked through the wool of my gown. I clasped my hands in my lap to hide how they trembled.

“It is the desire of our queen to stand beside our king for turns beyond the life of a mortal. Today she will enter the förӓndra if it be the desire of the Norns.”

My heart skipped in my chest as Klock held out a silver chalice filled with crushed petals of moonvane, of soil, of grit from powdered stone.

“Fury of the earth.” He held the chalice in front of Valen. “Blood of the fae.”

Valen gave me a soft smile before holding out his palm for Klok. The elder ran a gold blade across Valen’s palm until a dark vein of blood fountained over his skin. With care, Klok turned Valen’s hand over the chalice until a fair amount of blood had dripped into the earthy concoction.

Klok took a moment to stir the elixir with a pestle and added a bit of sweet wine. To make it palatable, or easier to swallow I wasn’t certain. I held my breath when Klok held the chalice to me.

“Blood of the mortal.” He smiled as I offered my hand. To his credit, Elder Klok didn’t let on in the slightest that my fingers wouldn’t stop shaking. He simply followed the same line on my palm as he did to Valen and helped me settle my bleeding hand over the chalice.

When my blood had mixed with the concoction, Klok sprinkled a strange sort of powder with a hint of salt and smoke to its scent. A sheen of steam billowed from the chalice when he handed the elixir to me.

“Drink of fury, of the fae, of your old blood.”

I didn’t know if words mattered, or if this ceremony was more to appease the sense of tradition Night Folk craved when it came to fury.

I gave Valen a last look, more unsettled than I let on, and tipped the chalice to my lips.

A pungent tang of blood, the thickness of smoke, and the sharp burn of something powerful underneath it all dug into my tongue, my throat. I coughed, chest tight. Each breath came ragged. My head spun. The ground beneath my feet seemed to tilt.

In the haze I became aware of Valen’s arms keeping me upright. A muffled tone of his voice.

I closed my eyes. My heart raced as sound rampaged into my head. From the distant call of evening birds to the rustle of dry grass beyond the gates, it seemed as if the world truly came to life inside my skull. What I thought I saw as color, now shone vibrant and fierce. What I thought I heard, now sang each melody of the earth in a new tune. Sharper. Louder.

As if the soil flowed in my veins, when I opened my eyes again, the world radiated in beauty. Each petal, each blade of grass carried an iridescent gild of light along the edges. Even the smallest dew drops glimmered like gemstones.

“Is that... is that fury?” My voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Valen’s bright smile spread. “It worked. You see it. Do you see it?”

I gripped his tunic. “It all looks... magical.”

Valen let out a trembling laugh and before I could think at all he crashed his mouth on mine. The king kissed me deeply, with a greedy give and take. His hands trapped the sides of my face, holding me as if I might disappear if he let go.

When he pulled back the royal family stood, clapping and smiling for the change. Our people cheered, but I only saw Valen.

“That power you see,” he whispered against my lips. “It was not there. Not until you, Elise. Not until you won this land for all people once again.”

My lips parted. “You didn’t see this before the war?”

He shook his head. “I felt it. I knew it was there, but I could not see the fury of the land as I did as a boy. Not until you were once more in my arms, alive. The true queen.”

“Does this mean it worked? We live together for the ages?”

He brushed the hair from my forehead and let his forehead fall to mine. “For the ages. I would not wish to spend my forever with anyone else.”

And when he kissed me again, it was as if our lives were truly beginning.

_______________________________

Before the Masquerade

The Memory Thief

Kase was peaceful when he slept. Hardly the Nightrender.

I hugged the quilts against my naked body, basking in the warmth his skin gave off, the way his arm draped possessively over my waist.

There once was a time, I woke to his face every morning, but this was different.

He was mine in every way. No illusions were between us, no unrequited desire. We’d given in to the need for each other, and it would be a memory I would never give up. A grin played at the corners of my mouth when he let out a calm sigh in his sleep.

“You are staring at me.”

My grin widened and I pressed a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “I hope it unnerved you a great deal.”

Kase still hadn’t opened his eyes, but his mouth twitched in a grin as he tightened his hold around my body, pulling me against him. “Most everything about you unnerves me.”

“Unkind, Nightrender.”

I laughed when he nuzzled into the nape of my neck, pinching my sides until I couldn’t catch a breath.

His kisses to my throat and jaw slowed. “I did not say it was a bad thing to unnerve me. Not one but you has managed to succeed at it. A gift, for you alone.”

“You are giving over a great deal of control.”

He smiled against my skin. “That is assuming I ever had it.”

My arms wrapped around his neck, holding him closely. A somberness settled in the room. We traded slow, steady kisses, and a sting of tears gathered behind my eyes.

Kase pulled back, his thumb ran the length of my bottom lip. “What is it?”

“How are we to do this?” I lowered my forehead to his. “To think of the risk, of losing you again—”

“Then don’t think it, Mallie.” Kase kissed me softly, taking my face between his palms. “Let us have this morning, this day, and we won’t think of darker things. Not yet.”

A feat all its own. How could I not think of the night ahead? But he looked at me with almost a pleading expression, I agreed with a kiss before I forced us to rise and face the day.

Kase took to heart pretending nothing dark and deadly would happen to us at sunset. No mistake, the Nightrender’s mood shocked even his Kryv.

Fiske and Isak greeted us with surly expressions, until they observed Kase smiling when we walked into the room. Isak muttered to Fiske, then in the next few heartbeats both Kryv were smiling along with us.

“Lynx,” Kase said when we stepped into the pantry. Lynx looked over his shoulder, a basket of goose eggs in his hand. “We’re to eat a morning meal together.”

Lynx arched a brow. “What?”

Kase shoved next to the Kryv and took down a covered loaf of grain bread, then clapped Lynx on the shoulder.

“A morning meal. The entire guild.” He turned to me. “Do you recall how we’d roast bread, then steal a bit of cream from Cook and make it sweet?”

I nodded, words stuck in my throat like honey lined the whole of it.

Kase pressed a kiss to my cheek, wholly unbothered Lynx watched with a bit of stun. “I have a craving for it. Lynx will help us make it better.”

I snickered. “Better? It was barely palpable.”

It didn’t take long before our brevity summoned the rest of the guild. The ruins were not equipped for cooking like longhouses in the townships, but the Kryv had fashioned a stone stove and kept one alcove covered for a cold storage.

I stood back, observing the lightness amongst the Guild of Kryv. Ash and Hanna made a game of sweetening the milk under Lynx’s direction. Tova, Vali, and Raum laughed as they mashed berries for a spread. Kase grinned as he helped Lynx and Gunnar boil goose eggs. Fiske and Isak poured sweet ale in horns.

A heaviness soaked the walls of Felstad. As if we all knew our lives would not be the same after this night, but we would carry on and ignore it the best we could.

Outside we ate, laughed, told tales of schemes in the north. Gunnar told me what it was like as a boy with Hagen as a father. Kase and I shared tales of his games he’d play with us as children.

Kase kissed the side of my head, he took any excuse to touch me. I did not stop him.

“I don’t want to know what happened last night,” Tova whispered when the noon sun began to fade and the night drew too near too fast. “But I am not against it.”

“Ah, do I fit in your clock now?”

Tova smiled. “I have come to realize you are the clock. Every step, every move, every tick of his—” She used her chin to point at Kase as he spoke with Gunnar. “Has been because of you.”

Tova’s face sobered.

“Does that distress you?” I asked.

She shook her head and took my hand. “No. It gives me hope we might survive this night. To know he has been your every move as well, I know you will do all you can to fight for him the way he fights for you.”

I could not find the words for a dozen heartbeats. I squeezed her palm. “I would do the same for all of you.”

Tova smiled, giving me a soft nod.

The time to leave was approaching.

Alone, Kase sat in front of me, while I braided the sides of his hair. He kissed my palm and drew a rune of protection on my wrist, pulling me onto his lap.

“You must promise me something,” he whispered.

I stroked the side of his face. “I’ve been tricked by you too many times, so I will promise nothing until I know what it is.”

Those golden eyes broke into my heart. A place he’d always been, a place he’d always stay.

“Promise you will return to me,” Kase whispered. “You will keep breathing, and you will return to me, no matter how this night ends.”

My palms trapped his face. “I will always find you. The Lord Magnate, the Masque av Aska, the gods themselves could not keep me from you.”

I kissed him. Deeply, with a new desperation as if it could be the last.

I refused to accept such a thought. My vow was sound—no matter what became of us tonight, I would always find Kase Eriksson.

__________________

The Captive

The prince was bustling about more than was typical. Then again, Bracken was often moving about.

“I knew there were skirmishes, but an entire overthrow?” Bracken adjusted the silver circlet on his head, so it rested at an angle. He grinned at his reflection. “Gods, it’s strange to think the North finally has fae folk on the throne again. Our non-magic trade partners were dull and prejudice, it will be interesting to see how things change.”

“It will deplete the resources the isles must give to their Night Folk refugees,” I said with hardly a tone in my voice at all.

“Saga,” Bracken said with the look that told me he thought I was being rude. “It is our duty to offer refuge for any folk who can add to our isles. Bring them to us and we will remind them why the isles are the homeland of the fae.”

I recalled when the isles were war-torn too. I would not say the Southern Isles were always much safer than the cold peaks of the Northern Kingdom.

Sofia rolled her eyes from a padded seat in the corner of the prince’s room. I knew she did not care for my briskness, but I saw little point in not speaking directly. I didn’t see a purpose in embellishing or spreading half-truths simply to spare feelings or build another’s self-importance.

“Shall we?” Bracken turned from the mirror, grinning. “We have new allies to meet.”

“Allies aren’t certain unless the High Queen makes the determination.”

Bracken snorted. “Saga, my dearest, even my mother holds a bit of fear for this earth bender king and his people. She is most interested, at least in the current moment, to hear what the new kingdom may offer our isles.”

He chuckled, Sofia joined in.

I didn’t see the joke, nor was there any desire to care.

Bracken was right in the sense that Queen Astrid wore more than one leery expression when tales of the earth bender king and his ferocious queen reached the shores of the isles. For now, the Court of Hearts would play their games on the friendlier side of battles.

Outside the Borough the sun burned over drying dew drops. Every leaf and shrub glistened in a wash of crystal light. Most mornings Alvheim sparkled as though the grass to the creek beds were made of precious gems. Folk often fawned over the beauty of the isles—what I saw was plant life beneath sunlight. There were moments I wondered if I once gasped and grew teary over natural beauty.

In the far reaches of my mind, I knew my stoicism was in place for a purpose. But as time dragged forward, the emptiness within swallowed much of what I once knew.

Those who’d once shared my blood, who’d left me to live the rest of my long life without them, were beginning to fade in my thoughts. A brief memory of laughter with my dead brother was the only hint that there once was a time I found a touch of thrill at life.

Now, I existed. Nothing more.

We took one of the High Court’s carriages to the docks. I never released my grip on the seax hilt tethered to my belt. Sofia, also a guard, found more purpose in laughing and giggling with the prince at all the folk who’d overdressed for the arrival of the Northern ships.

Seemed pointless to be a royal guard if one was never going to defend the royal.

A line of Borough guards slammed the ends of their gilded spears when the carriage pulled alongside a dais near the shore. The High Queen would be greeted in the Borough, but Prince Bracken would take the first greeting with our potential allies at the docks. 

Black velvet hemmed in silver thread had been draped across a bench cushioned with moss and fresh lilac blossoms.

At the door to the carriage Rune and Bo, Bracken’s innermost guards, stepped on either side.

“My Prince, the ships are docking.” Rune had his wings glamoured away, and had two blades crossed over his back. On the battlefield, Rune would have a fully iridescent wingspan, and his eyes would be steely as he filled an enemy’s veins with stone.

“Then we ought to get in our places,” Bracken grinned. “Do I look princely enough? Shall I be intimidating, or greet them with a grin? Fear or friendship.”

“Greet them as an honored prince of the isles,” I said plainly. How else would he greet a dignitary.

Sofia snorted, and picked a fleck of dandelion fluff off Bracken’s shoulder. “If I may, My Prince, this meet is for the forming of a new ally. One we have not had since the former Northern rule was done by folk fearful of fae. Our Night Folk cousins have ended centuries-long oppression. We ought to celebrate with them.”

“A revel.” Bracken beamed at the huldra. “Brilliant as always, Sof. What better way to introduce them to the isles than sweet wine and lutes.”

I could think of at least half a dozen ways that were better suited, but I kept my mouth shut.

Bo took the left step of the dais and Rune took the right.

I stood beside Rune, hand on my blade, cold and truly uninterested in this alliance but for the fact it could strengthen the securities against enemies for the isles.

Safety for the fae folk was the only desire I could fit in my chest.

“Any thoughts, Saga?” Rune asked, voice rough and low.

He was not a man of many words, but I think he appreciated my aloofness and devotion to protecting the royal family. Sometimes it meant he spoke to me or inquired into my instincts.

“I think we ought to always be on guard,” I said.

He didn’t respond but for a grunt and curt nod of his chin. I took it as he agreed. Rune had the most to prove by way of loyalty, being a son of the Court of Blood. Most folk carried a healthy trepidation toward the blood fae. I would experience the same subtle prejudice as Rune if folk knew the truth of my glamour.

Bracken never wavered in his acceptance of Rune. I didn’t understand many things, friendship being one. I saw duty and purpose alone, but even with an ice covered heart, the affection the prince gave to both Bo and Rune kept me at ease that neither guard would betray Bracken.

A horn blew, causing a flock of sea birds to burst free from a tidepool and take to the sky. Dock men caught ropes, they tugged the sleek longship to the docks. A small party, then again if the new Kingdom of Etta was only reforming after their battles, they likely could not afford to send too many.

Lines of fae from the Court of Hearts, Bracken’s aunts and their daughter from the Court of Hearts were at the base of the knoll, eyes pointed at the sky even if the sun had devoured the stars. Along the path to the dais, a few curious folk from the Court of Serpents adjusted briar and rose petal headdresses, or satin doublets. Then, speckled about, some blood fae watchers and warriors kept a slight distance.

Lord Gorm would want to know what the newcomers brought, but he rarely left his borders since the Blood Lady died.

A precession of border guards, dock workers, and a few haggard looking travelers began the climb up the cobbled path to the first knoll. I lifted my chin, unable to make out how many Northerners had arrived.

They took too bleeding long to traipse the hill, stopping here and there to greet the fae folk. Insolence. They ought to move straight for the prince, the highest-ranking figure here, not spend time gossiping with merchants and their wives.

My grip tightened on my sword, always ready, always a warrior.

The line curved around the bend. It wasn’t difficult to pick out the Night Folk Fae. Their skin was varying shades of brown, from sun kissed to rich and deep. They stood half a head taller than most of the Southern fae, and the only faeish features distinguishable from them and mortals were the sharp, tapered points to their ears.

I could make out three men who appeared to be warriors. Leather guarders on their forearms, scuffed jerkins over their chests, and no less than four blades tethered to sheathes and belts.

Truth be told, they all seemed to be warriors, but I was certain the queen had spoken of a dignitary.

Both men in the front were absent fae ears, and both had a russet color to their beards. The third was Night Folk by height, ears, and the midnight shade to his eyes.

A pace behind them, a man with tousled autumn golden hair was holding the hand of an elderly fae woman with cracks in her skin so deep, they nearly swallowed her eyes. The woman grinned and laughed at something he said. His shoulders shook as though he were laughing too.

Was this the dignitary? He dressed no better than the soldiers joining him.

The sides of his hair were braided off his face, and I took note he was Night Folk fae. The leanness of his height, the ears, they distinguished him from the first two of his companions. But his cloak was frayed at the hem, and there still seemed to be blood splatters on the edges.

“The southern prince, Ari—” one of the warriors began. “I mean, Ambassador.” He snorted. Like it was a joke.

“You must get used to my glittering title someday, Axel,” the golden Night Folk man said, and released the old woman’s hand.

He turned over his shoulder. I’d been told most Night Folk boasted dark eyes like the night, but this man had brilliant swirls of amber in the darkness of his gaze.

And they were lethal.

I coughed. A pain, like jagged stones piercing the center of my heart, slashed through my gambeson, my tunic, my ribs, straight to the meaty numbness that had kept me alive but unfeeling for turns.

The Night Folk tilted his head.

Gods, all gods. I pressed a hand to my chest. What was happening. My blood tingled with a surge of warmth. Uncomfortable, almost painful. The rush flooded my skull, it spun my head. I was going to topple over to the side.

I couldn’t catch a deep enough breath and doubled over my knees.

“Saga?” Rune glanced at me.

I gasped. A thousand burning feelings bombarded my core. Feelings, emotions. Fear I’d left behind in a dull past. Memories of my brother, my father, my family—hells—the pain of bidding them farewell was destroying me.

I knew they were dead. I’d always known they were dead. But I had little to think or feel on the subject. Now, a heady, devastating sting grew behind my eyes. Dammit, was I... crying?

“Saga. What has happened? Are you hit by something?”

Hit? All hells, I was being devoured.

I lifted my gaze again. The new Night Folk visitor was even closer. He was smiling and greeting a few seers from the Court of Stars. 

There were fading gashes on his face, his hands. Signs he’d stepped off a battlefield and barely had time to breathe before he’d been sent on his way.

He was... stunning. A kind of handsome I wanted to gawk at until sleep forced my eyes closed.

His eyes flicked to mine.

The same torturous burn flooded my chest anew. I cried out and touched my heart. It thudded so viciously in my body, I was certain it was about to break out.

“Is she ill?” Bracken asked, a bite to his tone.

“My Prince,” Rune said. “I don’t know.

“Take her to a healer.”

I wanted to protest, I had no desire to leave my post, but Rune was already dragging me away from the procession. One glance over my shoulder, and the new visitor atched us leave with a furrowed brow before his attention was drawn back to Bracken.

Deep in the Mossgrove trees, I cried out and fell to the ground.

“Saga—” A touch of concern lived in Rune’s tone. His rough hands gripped my shoulders.

No. No, gods, not here. My bones bent, they started to shift against the brutal pain wracking my chest.

It was too late.

Rune cursed his surprise when my second form took hold.

I spread my wings and took the trees, desperate to find some semblance of sanity again. What happened at the docks? I’d not had any hint of deep emotion for as long as I could recall.

“Saga.” Rune had his wings spread, and was eye level with the branch. “Is that... you?”

I couldn’t hide from him. Astrid would punish me, but the only option to keep Rune from speaking of what he’d seen was to kill him. My beating, broken heart wouldn’t do that because, icy as I’d been, now that the layers were pulled back, my heart informed my brain that I liked Rune.

I fluttered back to the ground. Rune followed. Once I unfolded from wings and feathers, the cool of the morning air struck my bare, naked skin. I gasped and tried to cover myself. Rune landed beside me and had his tunic stripped and around my body in the next breath.

“Saga...”

“Rune,” I said, breathless. “Please... please say nothing.”

“What has happened? Are you... have you always been a shape shifter?”

I nodded. “But no one is to know of me. Please, say nothing. It will be unsafe for... you and me. I am bound to the crown.”

He knew Astrid. He knew of her brutality. Rune’s jaw tightened.

“What happened just now? You looked like you were stepping into the Otherworld.” He lowered to his knees and tugged the tunic tighter around my shoulders. Like a friend might.

The agonizing burn gathered again behind my eyes. To feel was too much, to unbearable. How did anyone do it. With a few more gentle urgings, I uttered my greatest secret to a fellow warrior. I spoke of a curse of emptiness, my penance to the crown, and now... something had lit a fire in my heart.

It was once more alive.

By the time I finished Rune had my hands in his, oddly comforting for a blood fae. Then again, we were of the same court. Perhaps there was a natural kinship I’d never noticed before.

“She harms you.” Rune touched one of the scars on my shoulder.

“Please, Rune,” I begged. “Say nothing. It only gets worse.”

He seemed like he wanted to say a great deal, but simply tightened his grip on my hands. “I shall look out for you.”

I scoffed. “Why?”

“We are fellows, Saga. Warriors together. We look out for each other.”

“You... you won’t use this against me?”

“We’re also kin from the same court,” he said with a stiff grin. “Blood fae ought to stick together, not use each other.”

“Rune—”

“I love Bo.” Rune’s face flushed a deep crimson.

My mouth parted.

“There,” he said, and swallowed roughly, avoiding my gaze. “Now you know my greatest secret the way I know yours. You can trust me, Saga.”

A strange, unnatural twitch tugged at the corners of my mouth. It was a bizarre sort of movement, but my lips spread into a twisted grin, revealing my teeth. No mistake, it was more frightening than anything.

Rune gave me a look of exasperation. “Mock me if you’d like, but it is no small confession.”

“I’m not mocking,” I said softly. “I’m quite unaccustomed to smiling, but all at once I cannot stop.”

Then, Rune smiled, much calmer and more dignified than mine felt. He laughed. “It is a rather crooked smile. Keep practicing.”

I shoved his shoulder. Playfully. Like an instinct took hold and my body knew what to do, but I apologized straightaway.

Once he assured me it was nothing he’d take offense over, I let out a long breath. “Dozens of moments observing you beside Bo are now making a great deal of sense.”

Rune blanched. “He does not feel the same, I’m sure of it.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t; it’s just a feeling. You’ll soon understand the more you feel.” Rune dragged his long fingers through his hair. “Listen, Saga, should I be found out, it would be against the oath we took of no lovers within units. To my superiors, I’d be biased and a liability. No doubt, I’d be deployed elsewhere. Likely sent to serve Lord Gorm. Bo can never know, no one can know. Not if I wish to remain here, protecting my prince, which I desperately do.”

My fingers trembled, but slowly, I covered his hand with mine. His skin was warm. I forced my fingers to curl around his, even if the urge to flee and hide from this wretched newness in my heart was pulling me under into a fog of confusion.

I squeezed his fingers. “You secret is mine to take to the Otherworld.”

“Yours as well.” One corner of his mouth curved up. Rune stood and helped me to my feet. “Shall we return, or do you need to see a healer?”

“No healers. Nothing that draws attention to me, or the queen will hear of it.”

A muscle pulsed in Rune’s jaw, but he nodded. “As you say. Then let’s return to the Borough and meet these newcomers. After you are clothed, of course.”

He chuckled and took the lead step.

I licked my lips. The newcomers were terrifying. Something had shifted and broken within me—perhaps healed in brutal ways—when the amber-eyed Night Folk man had met my gaze.

I wanted to avoid him until my final breath.

But the lingering memory of his eyes, his grin, another part of me wished never to be parted from the man another day.

_____________________

The Illusionist

Livia’s breaths were heavy when she crouched at my side. “See them?”

I peered through the hedges around the Crimson Fort. There was no one but guards near the gates. “No. They’re not winning this turn, Liv.”

“Agreed.” She nodded, but promptly swiped a lock of her dark hair out of her eyes. Like always, Livia rubbed the strange scar in the crook of her elbow. She said she stumbled during the sea fae war, but she was bleeding skittish about it.

I stopped asking two turns ago.

“Think we’re clear?”

I blew out my breath and shook my palms, seeking the icy cool of glamour in my veins. “Clear. Go. Go!”

We sprinted out into the front courtyard. Livia was sensible and opted for hosen and anklt boots. Gods, I wished I didn’t get caught in the glitter of new gowns. The skirt of the lavender dress had snagged under my feet more than once, and already had a layer of mud on the hem.

I fell behind. Forget propriety, I gathered my skirt in a bunch in my arms, flashing my upper legs, and sprinted next to Livia.

My heart leapt. We were going to bleeding win this turn.

Twenty paces ahead, the gates to the fort were open, only a few Rave guards, stepping aside at the sight of the two princesses racing forward.

Then my body slowed.

“No!” I let out a cry of frustration. Arms, legs, my middle, all seemed to grow sluggish, as though a force pulled me back.

Livia screamed, clutching her head, thin black veins crinkled from the corners of her eyes.

From the far slope, a trio of imbeciles burst from the hedgerow, shouting their battle cries. If they could be called cries. True, Aleksi’s voice finally found it’s deeper timbre, but Jonas and Sander were still shifting between deep and squeaks.

Jonas bleeding Eriksson had his palms out, eyes black as the night.

Aleksi did the same.

Bleeding sods. It wasn’t fair the stupid boys always took on the race, three against two. Jonas would attack with nightmares, Aleksi with his horrid blood glamour, and Sander would be free to cross the ending point.

Not. This. Turn.

“It’s not real, Livie,” I cried. “It’s just Jo’s nightmares. They’re not even good. What’s he doing this turn? Another haunt in the closet.”

She trembled, but blinked, some of the black lines fading near her eyes.

Slow as my limbs moved, Aleksi wasn’t terribly skilled at summoning blood for long. Not yet.

I opened my palms, embracing the cold of my magic.

Jonas skidded to a stop, glaring at me. “Don’t even think about it, Mir.”

“Oh, I thought about it, you sod.”

With a dramatic sigh, Jonas clutched his chest. “You wound me. However will I survive.” The prince’s sneer returned. “Oh, because we’re about to win. Again.”

Sander was nearing the gates. I blew out a breath and faced my annoying friend. Illusions were sometimes fiercer than Jonas’s nightmares. The mind was tricky, powerful, and easy to believe.

Livia let out a gasp when Jonas lost his hold. She barked a laugh when Sander kept running, but seemed to do so in place.

An illusion that made the fort seem to always be at a distance, never getting closer no matter how fast he ran.

“Go, Livie!”

She didn’t hesitate and rushed toward the gates.

“Sander!” Jonas raked his fingers through his hair, aghast. He tried to quicken his pace an sped for his twin. “It’s Mira, you idiot.”

Livia raced past Sander. With her as his guide, he managed to see the glimmer of untruth in my magic and broke the charade with a curse.

Livia let out a shriek when she leapt for the front doors, Sander on her heels. They nearly collided, but in the end, Livia made it.

“No.” Jonas’s palms scrubbed down his face.

I pointed a finger in his face and laughed. “Your sweets for the entire festival, and stable duty when we go home. It’s about damn time, you sods.”

Jonas frowned. “Fine, Mir. Fine. Enjoy your win. Next turn, will be different.”

Defeated as he was, Jonas remained a brotherly prince and saw to it I had someone to brace against from the fatigue of using my glamour and racing from the shore to the fort in so short a time.

Each turn the race was had on the day of the masque. A way to see who had to tend to the charges since our parents seemed to believe it was important for spoiled little royals to know how to dirty their hands.

Every turn the boys were victorious.

Halfway into the great hall, Jonas cleared his throat. “You were a worthy foe, Mir.” He looked to Livia, dipping his chin. “I suppose you were too, Livie.”

She folded her arms over her chest, shoulders still rising from exertion. “I guess the same can be said of you, Jo. Those nightmares were a little frightening.”

His green eyes brightened. “Yeah? What’d you think of the teeth on the nyk?”

“Gruesome.”

Jonas’s sour defeat was a thing of the past. His grin widened. “I’ve been practicing it for weeks. Weeks.”

We laughed and made our way to through the great hall for our favorite part before our parents convened to council.

This turn was even better. Calista and Silas came to the fort. Most turns, they remained at Kunglig, but some turns they ventured to see the place where they won their crown. Difficult for them, no mistake, especially Uncle Silas.

The way he was trapped in darkness within these walls—I wasn’t so certain I would return either.

I saw Calista and Silas most often, since she was my blood cousin, but she loved every heir as fiercely.

“Cal!” Livia’s voice was laden in excitement when she caught sight Calista’s golden braids.

The queen of fate had her hand tangled with Silas’s. Poor man, kept looking about like he was walking toward his death.

On cue, Jonas went to him, chattering with intention about a few new wooden figures he’d whittled with a new knife Silas had sent.

It worked.

Jonas could be a pest, but his heart was the best of us all. Close to Silas since sea fae wars, the eastern prince and his brother knew how to distract the king from his disquiet.

Silas faced the twin princes, even releasing Calista’s hand, and listened to their tales of the east.

Aleksi cleared his throat. “So, any, well, any thoughts this turn, Cal?”

Calista’s pale eyes brightened. “Wanting a missive of fate, Briar Prince?”

I chuckled. Cal gave most everyone a different name. Aleksi didn’t care for his, but it wasn’t so far off—he had been found in a briar shrub as an infant.

It took a few more moments, but we all settled around Calista and Silas. The fate king gave her a small smile as he handed her a goose quill. Together, their voices could sing intricate twists of fate, but since the war ended, both Silas and Calista avoiding altering any plans of the Norns.

Instead, she settled for simple missives, the sort that were more fun and a glimpse at a potential future of which to be wary or delighted. Most turns she would send the missives back from council with our parents.

This turn we got to see her write.

Aleksi was the oldest at fifteen, already two turns into training with the Rave, yet he sat with his legs outstretched like the rest of us, with a touch of hidden excitement we’d kept since we were small.

Perhaps we’d be crowding around Calista until we had littles of our own.

Calista unfurled a strip of parchment, paused, and hummed (I thought it was more for show than anything).

After a moment she handed Alek his tale. Sander peered over his shoulder. “What’s it say?”

Aleksi’s mouth twitched. “When you earn the warrior’s blade, a treasure will be yours to save. Guard it well, love it true, and what a gift it will be to you.”

Jonas clapped Aleksi on the shoulder, giving him a shake. “It likely means you guard my princely face. It would be an honor.”

“You do remember I am a prince too, right?” Aleksi shoved Jonas’s arm.

“Hmm.” Calista looked around at the rest of us, tapping her chin with her finger. “My little scholar.” She winked at Sander and wrote a quick tale of fate.

“What you know in your mind, is not the same as the heart. When the time is nigh, trust the latter, and you will learn what truly matters.” Sander tilted his head. Doubtless my friend would spend the evening trying to analyze and deduce what his tale could mean.

Livia accepted hers with a touch of hesitation. In truth, I thought Calista paused a little longer on her, a knowing sort of look in her eyes.

Livia swallowed and read in a trembling voice. “Behind a mask, the past you’ll find. Fear not, a good heart lives beneath the lies.”

“Eerie.” I nudged her ribs.

Livia chuckled, but there was a bit of trepidation in her eyes when she rubbed a hand the scar.

Jonas read his slowly. “An empty heart, a battle cost, a land we all thought lost. Trust your heart, a vow to take will be the right choice to make.”

The prince arched a brow. “What’s that mean?”

Calista chuckled and brushed the feather of her quill over his nose. “That is the game of the Norns, Thieving Prince. You don’t know until you know. Now, my Tricky One.”

The fate queen eyed me, then winked, beginning my tale.

I shifted on my knees in anticipation.

With a flourish, Calista handed me a rolled strip. My fingers quivered as I unrolled the parchment.

“Read out loud, Mir,” Jonas protested. “We all did.”

I cleared my throat. “A heart so broken and sad only heals when the fiercest love is had. When all seems lost, let go of pride, and this love you’ll see is at your side.”

Jonas and Aleksi made a few retching noises.

“Mir got the lovey one this turn.” Jonas chuckled like it was a bad thing.

Under her breath, I caught Livia whisper, “Lucky.”

I clutched the parchment to my chest. It wasn’t uncommon for one of us to get one that spoke of love and future hjärtas. I never got it, but I beamed at Calista. “Thank you.”

She rose, stretching. “Don’t thank me. It’s the Norns.” Calista wrinkled her nose. “No. Don’t thank those bleeding sods either. They’re not to be trusted.”

We chuckled and followed after the fate king and queen for the feast that would precede the masquerade none of us were old enough to attend just yet.

I sat between my mother and father, still clinging to my tale of fate. A sigh slid from my chest. In truth, this turn all our fates were quite intriguing.

I cast a quick look about to my friends, my fellow young royals. A bit of a thrill burned in my chest.

I didn’t know what fate had in store for any of us, but... I couldn’t wait to find out.   

Kase had each arm wrapped around the necks of two boys. They squirmed in his grip. 

“You stepped on my wife’s toes,” he said to the boy with messy hair. It was always on end and looked like the brown of autumn. “And you,” Kase snarled at the second boy. Taller, with more waves to his dark, chestnut hair. “You shoved him. Now both of you apologize.”

The dark-haired boy lifted his bright green eyes. He offered me a toothy grin. The front two had finally filled in the gaps from when he’d lost his smaller teeth. He wiggled, but Kase only tightened his hold around his neck. 

The boy grunted. “Daj, I’mma say sorry, but you gotta—oof—” he flipped off the seat in the coach when Kase released him without warning. He snickered when Kase laughed, then wheeled on me and threw his skinny arms around my neck. “Sorry, Maj. Didn’t mean to smash ya.”

Kase put particular focus on our second son. Born only moments after his brother. Sander was soft-spoken, but a schemer as much as Jonas. Our firstborn was simply louder about it. 

With a squeeze to the headlock, Kase looked at Sander’s darker green eyes. “And you? What do you have to say, little heathen?”

Sander started pinching his father’s arm until Kase was forced to release him. With a sly grin—one that let me know he was hardly done causing trouble—he came over to my side of the coach and kissed my cheek. “Sorry, Maj.”

I pulled each of our sons against my side and kissed the tops of their heads. “It’s been a long journey, but we’re nearly there. Try not to wiggle out of your skin just yet.”

They laughed, and their busy bodies did stay still for a few heartbeats as they looked out the window at the different shapes of houses and roads in Etta. But as expected, after a bit of time, our sons promptly returned to wrestling once Sander insisted Jonas wouldn’t be able to run up the castle staircase as fast as he would. 

Kase sighed and offered the entire bench for the boys to torment each other, then came to sit beside me. “I give up on them. They’re bleeding lost causes.” 

I laughed and elbowed him in the ribs. 

Kase played the irritated father, but in truth, he was madly in love with his sons. He protected them, taught them, he bandaged their scrapes, and kissed their heads before they fell asleep. And I think he took a heady bit of pride knowing their mesmer used darkness like his. 

The princes’ mesmer was a strange collision of both mine and Kase’s. 

Sander used shadows to create nightmarish images. It did not need to be a fear already in someone’s heart. He could create an independent fear they did not even realize they had yet. Then, Jonas would take the nightmare and place it in the minds of anyone he wanted. A dark memory for them to always cherish. 

It might’ve been a formidable sort of magic if the boys had a cruel bone in their body. They were plotters, schemers, and they would age me faster than the turns, but our sons were made of light. Vibrant and curious. Their favorite weeks were when they spent time with their Uncle Niklas and Aunt Junius at the academies, or when Raum took them hunting, or visits with Tova and Bard where they could set traps on each other all day.

They were loved by our folk, and would either be forces for good, or the cleverest thieves the East had ever produced.

Kase’s dream of three littles would not be. Giving birth to twins had seen to it there would only ever be the two when my body practically split in half, and I nearly met the Otherworld. But I could not imagine our life any other way. 

Since the bloodline of the fated queen was restored in the East, and since there was no female heir, more than a few had made deadly suggestions about how Kase ought to handle the predicament. 

Lynx had been forced to intervene when Kase tortured a drunken councilman from Hemlig after the man had suggested Kase take up with a consort who had the ability to properly birth children. 

I doubted the man would ever breathe right again the way Kase had strangled him with his darkness. 

I hated that my worth, to some, was gauged by how well I could ensure the crown continued. My sons would grow to be powerful men, dangerous, likely with questionable morals at times, but they would be heirs the East could be proud to claim. 

“Boys,” Kase barked, tugging on the collars of their tunics, tearing the twins apart. “Listen. Hells, for one more moment, listen—”

“You cursed, Daj,” Jonas sang.

“Cursing means penge,” Sander said with a bit of smugness. 

Kase looked to me like he needed to be rescued. I shrugged. “I warned you not to teach them how to make deals, Nightrender.”

His eyes darkened. For other folk, when Kase’s shadows blackened his eyes, it was a thing of terror. For Sander and Jonas Eriksson, it was a delight. The boys mimicked his eyes, darkening their own. 

“We’re here,” Kase said. “You’ll both be on your best behavior. You won’t tease Livia like you did last time—”

“Us?” Jonas squeaked. “Livie’s brutal, Daj. Brutal.”

I bit down on my lip to hide my smile. 

Kase looked like he was fighting one of his own as he went on. “Doesn’t change that you two will be quiet and still during the ceremony, understand? This is for Laila. Respect your cousin.”

Jonas and Sander both nodded their heads. They loved Laila Strom. She was the cousin who kept every little across the kingdoms glued together. Even the littles in the South and the West. Laila would visit, and once a turn she loved gathering all the little royals for a week of adventures. But today was her honor. 

The day she joined the rank of a Rave warrior. Like the rest of her family, Laila had a tender heart, but a fighting spirit. 

When the coach stopped the twins lined up at the door, bursting at the seams to be free of the tight space. All hells, sometimes I wondered how we made it to the fort without one of the boys leaping from the coach. 

Jonas and Sander spilled out of the coach, but both boys stopped at once. They crouched. One looked left, the other right. Their eyes were dark as a moonless midnight. Jonas even had a small knife he’d gotten for Jul last winter in his hand. 

“See them?” Sander whispered. 

“No.” Jonas flipped his head to the left. Sander turned to the right. 

Three more steps and the twins visibly relaxed. Jonas puffed up his chest, grinning. “Told you they’d be too scared—”

In the next breath, great battle cries rang out over the manicured lawns of the Crimson Fort, and two darkly clad, tiny assassins leapt from the bushes. 

Sander and Jonas hardly had a chance to cry out before they were pinned beneath beautifully blooming vines of moonvane and lush shrubs that started to swallow them up. 

“Livia!” Jonas shouted with a touch of venom.

A pitchy snicker came from one of the attackers. Livia Ferus pulled back a black mask hiding her mouth. The girl was petite for eleven, but she was fierce. She pinched Jonas’s nose as more of her vines tethered his wrists. 

“Told you I’d get you, Jo.” Livia wiggled her fingers and the vines thickened. She had a gift of healing the earth, or if it did not need healing, it was made lusher, fuller. 

The second attacker tore off his mask. Aleksi was taller than all three of the others, but did not share the same proclivity for mischief. He could aid in the trouble, but he was never the first to cause it. 

“Alek,” Livia said, voice low and dark when she looked to her cousin. “Do it.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Jonas grumbled. “I’ll give you bad dreams. Swear I will, Alek.”

Aleksi simply smiled and whistled a bright tune. At once a swarm of sparrows burst from a nearby tree and perched on the shrubs clinging to our boys. How the boy summoned blood from any beating heart close by was a bit of a marvel. 

Kase couldn’t hold it in any longer. He barked a laugh as Aleksi’s glamour kept the creatures fluttering around our sons’ heads. 

“Daj!” Sander whined. “Help us.”

Kase took my hand and strode past the shrub. “Figure your way out, boys. I have a feeling you deserved it.”

“They did!” Livia insisted. “They locked me in the dark with a bleeding monster last time!”

Jonas grumbled. “I’m gonna get you back for this, Livie.”

Aleksi and Livia snickered again, clapping their palms together in unity.

Laughter from the front of the castle drew my attention. Elise and Valen watched the battle from the stairs. 

“I’m leaving the boys here, hope you don’t mind,” Kase said as he clasped Valen’s forearm. “We need a break.”

“I can’t take them,” the Night Folk king said. “We were going to send Livie with you.”

I laughed and embraced Elise. In her arms was a wiggling baby boy. Prince Rorik’s dark eyes gawked at the commotion of his older sister and the princes shouting all manner of threats. The boy protested in his mother’s arms. Gently, I pressed my fingers to his brow, inserting a memory of our journey. The babe cooed and giggled, calming for a breath, as the images flashed through his head.

“Is it boys, Mal,” Elise said with a sigh. “Rorik is one turn, and already I imagine him as boisterous as yours.”

I laughed. “It must be.”

“It’s true, Gunnar was a force to be reckoned with. But I think the daughters are the cleverest and, at times, the most brutal.” My brother stepped from the doorway, grinning. 

Hagen was dressed in a fine tunic and two swords. 

I rushed to my brother and wrapped my arms around his waist. “It’s been too long.”

“A few months, Mal.”

“Are you saying you didn’t miss me?”

Hagen chuckled. “Not at all.” He released me and looked at the yard with an arched brow. Jonas had broken free of Livia’s vines and now chased her across the grass while Sander was still swatting at Aleksi’s birds. Hagen scoffed. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“Come on,” Elise said, linking her arm with mine. “We’ll let them wear themselves out, then they might be calm for the feast.”

We laughed because the likelihood of that happening was miniscule and we all knew it. 

We’d fought battles with these people, and had become a family bonded by love, blood, and magic. Strange how once Kase and Hagen were the only people I truly had in my life. 

Now, our walls were bursting with littles, thieves, and royals. I’d fight a dozen wars if it brought me here, to this moment, with these people.

“The Southern caravan will be here soon,” Valen said. “No one forget to wish Ari a happy anniversary.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t dream of it,” I said. 

Kase tugged on my hand, a look of worry furrowed in his brow. “What anniversary have I forgotten?”

I laughed and kissed him quickly. “Ari won’t allow you to forget, but this day marks the day he became king. Again.”

Kase grinned, shaking his head at the memory of the ordeal that once more placed a crown on the head of Ari Sekundär. A surprise to us all, but one the man enjoyed repeating whenever the day came each turn. 

He made light, saying it was the day the Norns came to their senses and remembered he was born to be a king, but in truth, I was more of the opinion that Ari enjoyed repeating the story because it was the tale of how he gave up his heart and never took it back.

_______________________________________

Felstad Ruins—Klockglas Region

“I’m just sayin’ they coulda taken me.” 

I chuckled as Jonas gave a rather aggressive swipe of his knife against the wood he was whittling. The eldest of our twins, Jonas had the proclivity to pout when his father and Raum left him out of Kryv business. 

“It’s dull work today, son.” 

He blew out his lips with another swipe of his knife. “That’s what you say when it’s the best work.”

I grinned and closed my eyes, letting the sun heat my cheeks. I’d embraced shadows when I fell in love with the Nightrender, but as of late, I preferred daylight vastly over the night. 

A new crimson moon had put every region on edge. Kase had hardly shown his true eyes in days, always shadowed, always blackened with fear as he doubled down on the protections of our kingdom. 

In truth, the Kryv were adding more spiked gates on this side of Klockglas, not the normal feckless schemes in which they allowed Jonas and Sander to join. 

Raum, Isak, and Fiske enjoyed teaching the two princes how to use whalebone picks on locks, or how to read a man’s eyes to tell if they were lying. The rest of the Kryv took it upon themselves to teach my sons to thieve. 

Thieving princes. Perhaps in other lands it might be a thing of disgrace. In the East, most folk had a touch of thief in their blood. It’d be a disgrace if they didn’t make use of tricky hands. Jonas and Sander only snatched the purses of the Kryv or Falkyns, mostly to prove they could. 

They were usually caught and dubbed the failures of the games. Each time they tried harder, grew slier, and attracted more mischief.

Raised to be crafty, still we kept Jonas and Sander shielded in a way. Like on days where their father joined his guild to argue over how best to prevent war and death, sights we never wanted our sons to witness. 

Sights I wasn’t so certain we could keep from them much longer. 

“Maj. Made this for you.” Jonas stood in front of me. Tall for nine, lanky like me, but a face like his father. His tousled brown hair was always on end, and his verdant eyes were always alight with some trouble he planned to make. 

Jonas smiled and held out a small wooden trinket. 

“Jonas, owls are my favorite.” I took the piece and admired the rough cuts around feathers and a tufted face. “It’s beautiful, my love. Thank you.”

Despite his protests, I clasped his face in my palms and gave him a wet kiss on his cheek.  

“Decent, I suppose. Beak’s a little off.” Frigg popped her shoulder across the lawns and held up a handful of wooden beads she’d been carving for a week. “Try making a small shape, Prince Jonas. That’s where knife work gets hard.”

Jonas let his eyes shade over, the same as Kase’s could do, although their mesmer was different. Where Kase worked in the fear of others, our boys worked in creating it. They worked in nightmares. 

“Why’d I wanna make stupid beads? Do you see me wearin’ a dress, Friggy?”

“They can be for hair too!”

“Oh.” Jonas snorted and mocked tossing back his short hair. “Like a bleeding girl.” 

I swatted the back of his head as Frigg narrowed her eyes in a way that made her look wholly like her father. Hob and Inge took the stronghold at Felstad after the battle of the Black Palace. Their daughter wasn’t much older than the princes, and like Hob and me, they couldn’t seem to do anything but aggravate each other. 

I stood, letting them argue, and strode across the lawns to where Sander read near the creek’s edge, back against the stone tower of one of the many warning flame torches.

With a sigh I sat beside my second son. He shared most of Jonas’s same features, from the green of his eyes, to the constant mess of his auburn hair. Sander was a thinker. Most took Jonas for the boisterous troublemaker, but if they knew the truth, they’d know most of the schemes were born in this boy’s brain. 

“What book today?”

He lifted his head, noticing me for the first time, and proudly held up the leather book. 

“Blood Herbs: Spell Cast Codex.” I arched my brows. “Have you, all at once, become a spell caster?”

Sander grinned softly. “Uncle Nik gave it to me. Teaches you all the herbs and berries and leaves and such. There’s a nutshell that can cause the tongue to tie up in nonsense words. No matter how you try, you can’t say anything right for at least a clock toll.” He snorted and his smile widened. “I’m gonna do it to Jo sometime.”

“You’re not poisoning your brother.” I reclined on my hands. 

“Maj,” he whined. “I’m not poisoning him. But you gotta admit it’d be funny to hear him go on about nothing and not be able to help it.”

I wasn’t going to survive my sons. 

“That,” Sander went on, voice softer. “Or I’ll use something to kill that sea creature and the shadow man.”

“Kill what?” A groove shaped between my brows. “What sea creature, what shadow?”

Sander eyed the creek warily. “I don’t... I don’t know if I should say. You’ll think I’m losing my mind and—”

“Sander.” I gripped his arm. “What are you talking about?”

For the first time, I noticed the shadows buried in his young eyes. Not from mesmer, from true fear. “I saw something in the water and she brought... a man with her.”

My blood froze. Instinct took hold, and I dragged Sander behind me as I peered into the creek. 

“Not today. But... yesterday. I didn’t want to say since I thought it might’ve been my mesmer playin’ tricks with me.”

I wheeled on him. “Tell me what you saw.” 

Sander’s chin quivered. “Why do you look so afraid, Maj?”

Dammit. Kase and I grew in a world that held little kindness. I praised the gods our children did not know the same world. But the downside of it all was they did not know how to react to dangers and tended to panic if a look of fright crossed our faces. 

I smoothed his hair and forced a smile. “You’ve done nothing wrong, but tell me what you saw.”

“A monster in the shadows,” he whispered. “Not as frightening as the ones I’ve made in dreams, but the shadow man came with the sea creature. I think it was a girl, but sorta like a fish with needles as teeth.”

“What... what did they do?” 

“Laughed at me.” Sander licked his lips and clung to the book until his knuckles turned white. “Said I was a dead earth fae. Told it I’m not a fae. Said I was an Alver, and it only laughed harder.”

Three hells. There were many creatures in our wood. Cats with jagged teeth. Wolvyn with black claws. Snakes with four eyes. All dangerous, but there were no sea creatures that spoke. Not that I knew. 

“May I see?” I held out my palm. Sander didn’t hesitate, and pressed his forehead against my skin. 

Smoke and shadows came at once. With the ring on my finger, pulling memories was swift. Once, it took a great deal of my mesmer, now it was as though a story played out in my mind. A dream of sorts. 

Ribbons of misty shadows coiled around my son as he searched for his brother near the lakes Valen had helped shape behind the Black Palace. Sander cursed in the memory, words that would make Kase seek out Ash and Raum for teaching the boys that sort of language. 

Another time, I might laugh, but I was bleeding panicked. 

Sander paused in the memory and kneeled beside the lake. True enough, beneath the surface, bulbous eyes stared back at him.

“What are you?” Sander asked. His eyes darkened with his mesmer. 

“Prepared to die, earth fae?” her voice was wet and soft. 

“I’m not a fae. I’m an Alver. Get gone, or I’ll give you all the nightmares you don’t want.”

She laughed, a strangled kind of sound, and rose from the water, revealing a jagged grin with those sharp, pointed teeth, and fins where her legs ought to have been. “Perhaps you’d like to swim with me. Or perhaps... with him?”

In the memory, the strange sea fae pointed over Sander’s shoulder. My blood turned to ice as I watched my son spin around and face a dark, looming shadow. 

“Daj?” Sander whispered. 

From the darkness a face, pale as stone, a sneer cruel as a rabid wolf, stepped into the clearing. 

By the gods—_____. 

He’d stepped onto our land. How had he avoided Niklas’s wards? I wanted to scream for Sander to run, but he was in my arms, he was here. Clearly, he’d managed to flee. 

“Maj, you’re squishing me.” Sander’s distant voice carved through the memory. I ignored him and clung to my boy as I observed, helplessly watching the sleek, horridly appealing features of our enemy peer at my son. 

“Hello,” _____ said, voice like a chill in the frosts. “Would you like to use your power on me, body worker?”

“Alver,” Sander shouted. His eyes turned black as pitch. 

_____ chuckled. “What a delightful boy you are. Like your father. Like your mother. Have you been told tales of them? Have you been told fate chose them?” His voice took on a bitter tone, sharp as new steel.

Sander ignored the bastard and reached for a stone hidden in the reeds. “Get gone or you’ll find out yourself. My daj has better shadows than you, and my maj’ll rip your brains to bits.”

I held my breath. To taunt such a man should surely bring his rage. Instead, the memory of the ghostly spectral, like a mist of _____, laughed. As though my son were an utter delight. 

“I’m sure you think so. Tell them I look forward to meeting again, won’t you boy?” _____ slid back toward the dark billows of his glamour. “Tell them to watch their shores. They might get a bit dodgy.”

In the memory, Sander threw the rock in his hand with all his might at the darkness. All that was left was the distant echo of _____ laughter.

I let out a short gasp when the memory faded. Sander wrapped his arms around me, squeezing. Gods, he was trembling. 

“You were so brilliant,” I whispered against his hair. “But why did you not tell me?”

When I pulled him back, his mouth was tight. “I thought I might’ve made it up since I was reading so much, but... I looked it up, Maj. I think that thing was a merfolk. Don’t know who the shadow man was, though. Maybe a haunt. Fiske thinks there’s haunts in Jagged Grove.”

I didn’t care what the fish creature was. She could be a goddess of the deep, and if she returned to threaten my son, I’d pluck out those bulging eyes and wear them around my damn neck. 

What I cared about was the sight of _____. He’d slipped past the wards, and I didn’t understand how. A spectral? A projection. He didn’t look whole. 

“We’re going to speak with Daj, all right?” I kissed his forehead, smiling as though this was another day. It wasn’t. 

Every kingdom needed to know what had happened here. Why were we to watch our shores? Sea fae? It was possible, the sea folk hadn’t shown their faces since the Ever King had been slaughtered and Valen pulled a wall from the seafloor just beyond the Howl Sea. 

But hadn’t King Thorvald’s brother made some threat about ten turns? We were months into the eleventh turn since our battle of the Black Palace. Late, perhaps, but if they were preparing to return to make good on their threats, if _____ was behind it, war was near.

A shout snapped my eyes toward Jonas and Frigg. Hob sprinted out of Felstad. Lanky as always, but his beard was a great deal longer, and his eyes were filled with a strange fear. 

“Mal!” Hob yanked his daughter behind his back, Jonas next, and pointed behind us. 

All. Gods. The warning tower beside the creek spluttered and hissed, then a tall, red flame, rich as blood, flared at the top. Distant screams rose through the trees from the shore. No mistake, all the towers had ignited. 

In the next breath, billows of dark shadows wrapped around Felstad. I gripped Sander’s hand and reached out my other until the long, callused fingers of the Nightrender grabbed hold and Kase stepped through. Kryv, warriors, and Falkyns followed. 

Kase had his arms around me in the next breath, crushing both me and Sander against him. He looked about frantically until Jonas sprinted across the lawn and Kase had both his sons clasped tightly.

“Sander saw _____,” I whispered against Kase’s ear. “Yesterday. Like a ghost of him.”

Kase’s eyes went wide. “You’re certain?”

“I saw it.” 

Jaw tight, Kase looked to the flame, then to his sons.

“The warning,” I asked, a tremble of hesitation in my voice. “Which direction?”

Kase’s fingers dug into my spine. “From the North.”

“That’s Livie and... and... Alek! That’s Uncle Hagen and... Auntie Herja,” Jonas wailed. “Daj, we gotta go help ‘em. We gotta go. Shadow walk, and—”

Kase silenced him by scooping him up. Too long to be held like a tiny boy, but Jonas crushed his father’s neck and wrapped his legs around his waist, true tears on his cheeks as the boy cried for his friends and family in Etta. 

Kase rubbed Jonas’s back and strode toward Felstad. “They’ll be safe, boy. They’ll be safe.” 

He kept assuring the princes their playmates and cousins were unharmed, but when his blackened eyes met mine, I knew the truth—he feared he was dead wrong.