A Heart So Fierce and Broken (The Cursebreaker Series Book 2)
A Heart So Fierce and Broken: Chapter 50

We take our time traveling through Emberfall. Instead of hiking through the woods in secrecy, we ride in style and stop at every town along the way. We spend silver and speak of hope. We eat hearty food and spin to lively music and kiss under the stars when the nights grow quiet and long.

Many people are wary of the guards from Syhl Shallow, but word has spread of what happened in Blind Hollow, and Lia Mara is charming and kind and wins their trust effortlessly.

As we travel closer to the heart of Emberfall, the rumors grow darker. We learn of larger cities, like Silvermoon Harbor, that have attempted to refuse Rhen’s rule, and how he has sent soldiers to restore order, with varying success. Fear is in the air, so thick and potent I can taste it on my tongue. This close to Ironrose, there is little revelry. Instead of openly welcoming us into their midst, people take our coins and whisper their worries. Men clasp my hand furtively and say they hope I will bring unity to Emberfall—quietly pledging their allegiance.

It is humbling—and surprising.

Every time we stop, I expect to find guards and soldiers waiting to bar our progress, but none appear.

After two weeks, we reach the forest surrounding the castle. The last time I traveled through these woods, I was in chains, with Jake ready to put a knife in my back.

Today I wear the colors of Syhl Shallow and Emberfall, a queen at my side.

As we enter the forest, I hear nothing, not even the bells to announce that we are approaching.

“It is quiet,” Lia Mara murmurs to me.

“Too quiet,” says Jake. His voice has grown heavy. “What happened to the bells?”

“And shouldn’t guards be riding out to stop us?” says Tycho.

In our traveling party, we have twenty people, so we are not a small group. We have made no secret of our destination, and even now we approach the castle openly. There should indeed be someone riding out to greet us.

I frown.

“Something’s wrong,” says Lia Mara.

Iisak soars high above, but when I whistle, he banks and eases to the ground ahead of us.

I nod ahead. “What is happening at the castle?”

“Sixteen guards at the front, twelve at the back.” He pauses. “The man you faced in the tourney is among them.”

Dustan. I wonder why the guards have made no move to stop us.

I cluck to my horse and proceed. Iisak returns to the skies, but for the rest of us, our travel across the long stretch of grass to the front of the castle feels endless.

From here, I can see the line of guards. They stand at attention, just as they should, no look of alarm or worry or discontent in their expressions. Gold and red pennants snap alongside the ramparts above. I pick out Dustan right away. He is the only guardsman to meet my eyes, and his expression is cold.

He’d draw a weapon on me right now. I can tell. He’s been ordered not to.

There is not something wrong. Rhen is choosing not to acknowledge our presence. This is a power play, nothing more.

Despite everything, it makes me smile. Silver hell, Rhen is such a cocky bastard.

I call a halt to our group, then look to Lia Mara.

“I would like to speak with him alone,” I say.

Her lips part and she frowns, but she says nothing.

“He could try to kill you,” says Jake.

I glance at the castle, then shake my head. “I do not think so.”

Lia Mara still looks troubled. I pick up her hand and press a kiss to her palm. “If he meant me harm, he would not have allowed us to draw so close.”

She keeps hold of my hand. “He harmed you once before.”

“I have not forgotten.”

Her eyes are dark with fear and betrayal. “I do not trust him, Grey.”

“I know him better than anyone,” I say. “I know what he is capable of.” I put my heels against the horse’s sides, and we spring forward.

“Tell Harper to come out,” Jake calls from behind me. “I want to put eyes on my sister.”

I ride right up to the guards. Dustan steps out of line.

“You are ordered to leave,” he says, his voice low.

“I no longer take orders.” I swing down from the horse and turn to face him.

To my surprise, he puts a hand on his sword. Automatically, I begin to draw mine.

“Commander.” Rhen’s voice drifts down from the front steps of the castle, where he stands in the shadow of a pillar.

My hand freezes. The word, his voice … they should not pull at strings inside me after all this time, but they still do. I cannot escape my past, no matter how much I might try.

But Dustan stops too, so I allow the sword to settle back into its sheath. I look up at Rhen. Like the swordsmen, his eyes are cold, his expression guarded.

“I would like to speak with you privately,” I say.

“Why, when you campaign against me so openly?” His voice is dark and vicious.

“I am not campaigning.”

“Are you not? Your journey here has been no secret.”

“Nor have your actions. How many soldiers did you lose in Silvermoon?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. “How many stripes are on your back, Grey?”

A line of ice travels up my spine, and my thoughts cool, pulling emotion out of my head, leaving only the space to do what needs to be done. “Did you not count, Rhen?”

I have never called him by his given name, and never so boldly, in front of others. It has the effect I expect: his eyes are shuttered, that muscle in his jaw tight as a bowstring. “What do you want?”

“I just told you. I would like to speak with you privately.”

He makes me wait for an answer.

I had more than three hundred seasons to get used to his maneuverings, so I have no trouble waiting.

Perhaps he senses that, because he takes a step back. “We can speak in the Grand Hall.”

Dustan moves to follow me up the steps, but Rhen adds, “Commander, you will wait out here.”

Then we are in the castle, and the heavy wooden door falls closed, the sound echoing through the empty room. I can sense the movements of guards and servants in the halls, and I know we will never truly be alone, but right now, the castle feels colder and emptier than in all the time we were trapped by the curse.

Rhen’s movements are tight and precise, and the anger in his expression is unmistakable. I watch as he circles around me, like a swordsman waiting for an opening.

“Shall we draw our swords and settle this right now?” I say darkly.

He stops, glowering. “I understand you meant to lead an army against me.”

“That was before.” I pause, wondering how much he knows. Wondering how he knows. “I did not come here to fight with you.”

“I know. That is worse. I would have preferred the army.”

“I have made no move against you,” I say.

He gives a bark of humorless laughter. “Every move you have made has been against me.”

He is so angry. I am angry, too, and regretful, but his has a different flavor to it, which I don’t quite understand. He’s so bitter, and it’s a bitterness backed by pain.

I am not sure what reaction I expected, but it was not this. “In truth, I tried to spare you all of this.”

“No. You tried to spare yourself all this. At no point did you attempt to spare me anything.”

“I left,” I snap. “I hid. I did not come back here willingly. You had me dragged back in chains.” I pause. “I have not caused the discord in your kingdom.”

He looks away, and I can see how much this weighs on him. He has always felt the burdens of his people so acutely.

This anger, this bitterness—it is not all about me. Pity washes through me.

“Rhen,” I say quietly. I shift toward him.

He flinches and staggers back a step.

The movement is so unexpected that I freeze. Only then do I realize that the tightness of his jaw, the rigidness of his body is not fury and anger.

It’s fear.

That night I knelt in his chambers, he spoke of Lilith, and I could hear the fear in his voice then, when he worried I was sworn to her. During every season, he took the brunt of her torture. The curse held us both captive, but he suffered far more than I did.

“I mean you no harm,” I say.

“Do not patronize me. You have aligned yourself with a kingdom that brutalized our people. You stood with me against them, Grey, and now you ride in here with them. Karis Luran—”

“Karis Luran is dead.”

“I know.”

“How? How do you know?”

“She was not the only one with spies.”

This surprises me. We had no spies when I was guard commander. We had no one at all.

I take another step forward, but this time he stands his ground. “You have also brutalized your people,” I say to him. My voice is low and rough. “You are losing your country.”

“I saved it once before. I will save it again.”

“Deceit will not save them this time.”

“And you will? With Syhl Shallow? You were a guardsman, Grey. An exceptional swordsman, but nothing more than a body to stand in front of royalty.” His voice has turned vicious. “Her people will not respect you. They will not respect her. Karis Luran ruled by blood and fear, and their new ruler cannot expect to hold her throne with soft-spoken words.”

“Do not speak of Lia Mara with disdain.”

“And do you not think the Grand Marshals of my cities will look on you with equal disdain? That the man who wants to be king kneels to a woman who came to my castle in the middle of the night with naïve hopes for peace?”

“I did not kneel to her, and you would do well to consider her offer.”

“I will not ally with Syhl Shallow. Not then, and not now. If that means you are my enemy, then so be it.”

His voice is loud, so I make mine very soft. “I am your brother, Rhen.”

He goes still.

“You once offered me your hand and called me a friend,” I add.

He says nothing.

I wonder if there is any way to salvage anything with him, to move forward. Perhaps there is too much history between us.

Footsteps rustle on the steps at the back of the Grand Hall. “Grey!”

Harper crosses the room in a rush, skirts swirling with her uneven steps. She is quite possibly the only person in this castle who looks pleased to see me. I think she might stride right up to me and throw her arms around my neck the way she did that first night I was brought back to Ironrose—and then Rhen really will draw his sword.

She doesn’t get a chance. Rhen catches her arm and pulls her against him. The movement isn’t harsh. It’s … distressed.

“I mean her no harm either,” I say softly.

Harper doesn’t pull away from Rhen. Instead, she rests her hand over his. Only then do I realize he’s trembling.

“A friend would have told me,” Rhen says. “A brother would have told me.”

Maybe he’s right. We’ve both made missteps here. Even when the curse began, we both made errors in judgment.

I take a step back and glance at Harper. “Your brother would like to see you before we leave.”

She swallows. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Her eyes hold mine for the longest moment, and I can read the emotion there. She knows what demons haunt Rhen’s thoughts, and she stands at his side. Despite everything, I am relieved to know he is not alone.

“As before,” I say to her, “I could have chosen no one better, my lady.”

Her lips part. Her voice is very soft. “He’s trying to protect his people, Grey.”

“As am I.”

“You will march on my country, then,” Rhen finally says.

“Our country.” I hesitate. “And yes. In time.”

For a heartbeat of time, his expression is bleak and dejected, but then his face smooths over and his eyes are devoid of emotion.

I pull a folded parchment from my jacket and hold it out to him. The paper is sealed with wax swirled in green and black.

He makes no move to take it. “What is this?”

“A gift, Brother.”

When he still does not reach for it, Harper takes it from me. Rhen still hasn’t moved. His hand has formed a fist.

“For the good of Emberfall,” I say.

“Get out.”

I do.

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