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The Broken Kingdoms
Chapter23
Rogue Princess
Castle Ravenspire—Kingdom of Etta
Hold.Hold. Just a little longer, hold. My hands gripped the leather-wrapped hilt of the short blade.
“Maj.” Livia’s little whimper broke a fresh crack through my chest.
I peered over my shoulder. Livia was tucked in an alcove near the great hall with a handful of other littles. Aleksi kept his hand clasped tightly with my daughter’s, while two of the Atra daughters clung to their older brother. Aesir was stoic. By my side, Kari kept glancing at her boy with concern he might break, at long last, and flee to find his father.
Across from the children, in another alcove, Metta and the eldest daughter of Kari and Halvar hugged Lilianna’s waist.
“Stay down, little love,” I told Livia. A few clock tolls before I would’ve forced a smile to ease the burdens of her tender heart. Now, I could not find the strength to do it.
The door to the hall shook against whatever force was ramming into the wood. I turned my back on my daughter and braced my shoulder against the only barrier between us and . . . a fate worse than the hells.
Kari stood at my side, bracing much the same. Bile burned my tongue to speak this, but the words needed to be said. “Kari, should they enter, should they take me. Promise you’ll leave me and get the children free.”
“Shut up, Elise,” Kari snapped.
Hells, I’d missed the sharp tongue of my friend. In public, as an Ettan warrior, the wife of the First Knight, Kari Atra was often called upon to speak too damn pretentiously. Not like we once did in Ruskig when we were all misfits trying to survive.
Tears brightened her blue eyes. “I’m not leaving you as much as you’re not leaving me. And it’s not because of your bleeding crown. We’re friends. We’re warriors. We don’t leave each other behind.”
I dipped my chin in a stiff nod. Fair enough. Another furious ram of the door and I dug my heels firmer onto the floorboards.
A thousand thoughts whirled through my mind, most of them fell to Valen. Where was he? Was he injured? Did he see an end of this battle?
Did he feel how desperately I wished I could touch him, how fiercely I wished I’d kissed him a little longer before he’d left the castle?
The king fought at the gates with the others. I knew he was alive from the occasional shudder of earth, but it was always distant. Either Valen was growing weak, or they’d pushed the attack into the lower townships.
Since Halvar had discovered the carnage at the docks, the spread of the curse of bloodlust had taken Timoran after Timoran. Only Night Folk and Ettans were spared unless they drew too close. Then, they were slaughtered.
I closed my eyes against the sting. Slaughtered like Mattis.
My cherished friend. He’d deserved a life of peace. He’d deserved to see his child be born. He and Siv deserved to grow old and enter the hall of the gods together. Mattis had never deserved to die in such a way, torn apart and slaughtered in the sand.
I’d lived beside Valen’s curse for only a short time. I’d witnessed his transformation, the pain and suffering he’d needed to endure to quench the lust of death and gore.
Short as my experiences with his curse had been, it was enough I never wished to survive it again. Now, it was as though hundreds of Blood Wraith’s ran our shores. One difference was these cursed could die, but their lust for blood was never sated until they greeted the Otherworld. They did not sleep. They did not cease fighting.
In my heart, I knew—Etta was falling.
This was a fight I was not certain we could win. We’d sent the warning to the others, and our shores remained empty of Eastern ships. No missive from Ari. Not even the flight of a raven. Calista was silent, though I was never certain which kingdom she was in at any given time.
If she was in the West, she had not responded since the signal was sent seven nights ago.
There was no resentment at the silence of our friends—there was only harsh, jagged fear. I knew Malin, I knew Ari, I knew the storyteller well enough to know if they were silent, they could not come to our aid.
It would mean they, too, were under attack.
I winced when wood splintered. A blade—likely an axe—was snapping through the door. “Lili,” I said, eyes closed, desperate to keep my voice steady. “Gather the children.”
“Elise, no,” she whispered, hugging Metta against her side.
