A Heart So Fierce and Broken (The Cursebreaker Series Book 2)
A Heart So Fierce and Broken: Chapter 36

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So I did.

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

I want to meet Lia Mara’s people.

I want to do it with her at my side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She calls after me anyway, words I cannot understand.

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

Her mouth tightens. “She offers her thanks.”

“Ah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly what she said,” I add.

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

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

I wish I could drive Rhen from my thoughts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cortney chuckles. “Others have tried.”

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

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

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

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

I hate that my first thought is of Rhen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Once a guard, always a guard.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Would you show us?” says Cortney.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So is that a no?”

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

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

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

“Well done, then.”

They still look uncertain.

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

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

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

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

“They are.”

He cups his palms together and shakes, resulting in the rattle and jangle of steel. His hands open and six silver cubes dance across the tabletop between us. “Welcome to Syhl Shallow, Your Highness. Here, we play with dice.”

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