A Heart So Fierce and Broken

by Brigid Kemmerer

  “Yes,” I say somberly. “I would.”

  “He was a fool as well.”

  Across the fire, Noah laughs under his breath. “You should get some more sleep, Grey.”

  Grey hasn’t looked away from me. “You escaped through the fireplace.”

  I smile. “Yes. I did.”

  His eyes are so serious. “You stopped to help Tycho.”

  “I remember.”

  He’s not smiling. “You risked yourself, Lia Mara.” He pauses. “You could have been discovered.”

  I inhale to answer, to say that I couldn’t have left that boy hanging and bleeding along the wall any more than I could have let my mother kill the trapper’s daughter hiding in the woods. But Grey’s hand lifts to trace the spill of hair that hangs along my face, and my breath catches.

  “Brave girl,” he says.

  No one has ever called me brave. They’ve called me clever. Sturdy. Studious. Kind.

  Never brave. My heart thrums in my chest.

  In the distance, the sky rumbles. Iisak’s wings ruffle, and he looks up. “The air promises rain soon.”

  Grey’s hand drops. “How soon?”

  “Within the hour, I would think.”

  My heart won’t stop racing, but Grey gathers the cards. “Wake Jake and fetch Tycho. We’ll need to find shelter.”

  The rain pours down before we’re ready, darkening everyone’s mood. The mountains tower to our left, hulking and black in the midnight darkness. My heart trips and stumbles at the sight.

  Home. Home is on the other side. I might be in my own bed tomorrow night, surrounded by plush blankets and stacks of books and all the warm tea I can drink.

  And Grey, who will likely be thrust at my sister. Thrust into accepting his birthright.

  I’ll be thrust into the shadows while more important people do more important things.

  The thought stings, and I shove it away.

  We ride into the hills, water soaking into our clothes. The tack turns slippery, and the horses skid in the mud, but our persistence is rewarded: we find a cave. It’s not very deep, but it’s wide enough that we can tether the horses out of the rain and build a fire to warm ourselves. I have fresh clothes from Blind Hollow in my pack, and though they’re a tiny bit damp from where water breached the leather stitching, the leggings and blouson are a far sight better than drenched skirts. I strip out of my boots, leave the men by the fire, and move to the other side of the horses to change.

  Once I’m done, I spare a quick glance over to see if they’re finished as well. Grey’s back is to me, and he’s changed into clean dark pants, but he’s still shirtless. The sight steals my breath and stops my heart. More than half a dozen scars bisect the muscles across his shoulders, thick dark lines marring the perfection of his skin.

  I saw it happen, and it was terrible.

  Seeing the aftermath is terrible.

  Grey begins to turn, as if sensing my gaze, and I busy myself with adjusting the horse’s tether. When I look up again, he’s fully dressed, and he’s crossed half the cave to reach me.

  I swallow and wonder if he noticed me staring. I’m not sure what to say. Either the rain or the time in the cooler air has sobered him, because his eyes are clearer and sharper than they were by the fire.

  I clear my throat. “Forgive me,” I say. “I was—I was looking to see if you were done.”

  “I am.” He puts a hand on the neck of the horse beside me, rubbing beneath its mane. He’s so gentle with animals that it always takes me by surprise. Nolla Verin will like that about him, I think.

  My throat is tight again.

  “We will reach Syhl Shallow tomorrow,” he says softly. “I would like to ride out before sunrise. The rain should give us a cover and allow us to reach the mountain pass unseen.”

  I nod, because I have no idea what my voice will sound like.

  “What kind of force will we encounter on your side?”

  It takes me a moment to parse out the question. He did not approach me for quiet conversation; he is seeking military strategy. Any emotion between us is locked in my thoughts, not his. I clear my throat and look away.

  “We … we have soldiers stationed at the pass.” I have to clear my throat again. “They should recognize me, but they will likely hold us at the guard station until someone can come from the palace to retrieve us.” My mother will not have me riding through the streets looking like a rat pulled from a gutter.

  His eyes trace my face. “Thank you.”

  He looks like he’s about to turn away, so I clear my throat. “Grey.”

  He waits. “My lady?”

  I’m not sure what I want from him, but I don’t want this moment to end. I want to sit by the fire and teach him Syssalah. I want to touch his lips and whisper secrets in the dark. I want to step into him, to press my face against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. I want to trace the scars on his back and tell him how he did not deserve one single mark.

  My face must be on fire.

  Brave girl.

  I’m not brave at all. I can’t do any of that.

  He touches a finger to my chin. “You should sleep. Home awaits you.”

  I swallow. “I don’t want to sleep.”

  “I don’t either.”

  His hand lingers against my face, and I shiver.

  “Are you cold?” he says. “Come sit with me by the fire.”

  I shouldn’t. We are so close to Syhl Shallow, and I have one chance to prove to my mother that I have something to offer. But Grey takes my hand and pulls me forward, and it’s like he’s taken hold of my heart.

  When we sit, we’re both cross-legged, his knee brushing against mine. I’m very aware of the contact, and I long to move closer, to feel more of his warmth instead of the fire’s. I put my hands in my lap and keep my eyes on the flames as Noah and Jake unroll blankets for sleeping. Tycho is already half asleep on the other side of the fire.

  When Grey stands, I look up in surprise, wondering if he’s changed his mind. He must read the dismay on my face, because he offers half a smile. “I’m just getting some food,” he says softly.

  When he returns, he has cheese and dried beef, along with a water skin.

  The dried beef reminds me of Parrish and Sorra on our last night together, and I turn it over in my hands.

  “You seem sad,” Grey says.

  I glance up. “I was thinking of my guards.”

  “You were close,” he says.

  “Yes.” I swallow past a lump in my throat. “It was my fault Sorra died.”

  “If she died keeping you safe, I believe she would see it as a great honor.”

  “Would you have considered it a great honor to die for the prince?”

  “When I was a guardsman? Yes.”

  He truly believes that. I can hear it in his voice. “And now?”

  He tears a piece of meat in half. “I knew what he would do when he found out what I was. I keep wondering if I should have just told him that first day, when I was dragged back to the castle. I wonder if things would have turned out differently.”

  “I think you made the right decision.” I have to swipe a tear off my cheek. “I should never have tried to bargain with Rhen. I don’t know why I thought he would be honorable.”

  “He can be.” Grey pauses. “He cares greatly for his people. He was raised to be a king.”

  “I care greatly for my people, and I was raised to be a queen.” I wipe my eyes. “That doesn’t mean I should be.”

  He reaches out to capture a drop with his thumb, his hand lingering on my face. “I do not know your sister, but she must be impressive indeed for your mother to choose her over you.”

  I think of Nolla Verin and wonder if she is thinking of me. “She is,” I whisper. “She will make a great queen.” Another tear spills, but Grey is quick to catch it. His hand is against my cheek now. My heart flutters wildly in my chest.

  “You would make a great queen,” he says. “I have no doubt
.”

  I put my hand over his. My eyes fill again. “And you would make a great king.”

  His expression changes, and he begins to pull his hand away, but I press it to my cheek and blink the tears away.

  “You swore your life to him,” I say. “I know enough of you to see how that must weigh on you. But did you swear your life to him alone, or did you swear your life to him as the ruler of Emberfall? Your duty was not to the man himself, Grey. Your duty was to his country. Your country.”

  He is no longer trying to pull away. His eyes are dark and intent on mine.

  “You’re not arrogant,” I say. “You are not cruel. You say Rhen is a man of honor, but I believe you are.” My voice breaks. “I saw it in Blind Hollow. Your people would love you. If you would give them the chance. If you would give yourself the chance.”

  His other hand comes up to cup my face. “Please—please do not cry for me.”

  “Ah, fell siralla.” I clench my eyes shut. “I am not crying for you, stupid man.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “I am crying for me,” I say. “Because you are a prince. More than a prince. A great man who should be king.”

  “Lia Mara.” He’s so close. His breath brushes against my lips. His hands are warm and sure on my face. I want so badly for him to close that distance. I want to fall into him.

  I want …

  His lips brush mine.

  I gasp and draw back. My heart is wild in my chest. I stare at him, at the firelight painting sparks in his hair, at the heady intensity in his gaze.

  I want so much. He’s so close, and I long to undo the last moment in time, to press my lips back against his. The night presses in around us, and it would be so easy to forget that we are anything more than two people sharing shelter from the rain. I want more than his hands against my face, against my neck. I want more than I’ve ever wanted before.

  I put my hands on his wrists and pull them away.

  Because of everything I want, I cannot have him.

  “I am crying because you are a prince,” I say softly. “And I …” I let out a breath. “I am not a princess.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  GREY

  The next morning, as the clouds lighten at our back, we ride through the mountain pass toward Syhl Shallow.

  I slept little through the night, worried that Dustan and his men would wait to ambush us before we could reach the pass, but a dense fog has rolled in with the chilled morning air, granting us a reprieve.

  We stay quiet despite the misty cover. Iisak flies high overhead, invisible through the clouds. For now, Lia Mara rides at my side, but her gaze is trained ahead. Her back is straight and her gaze is clear, but her mood seems as heavy as the weather around us.

  Mine matches.

  I feel the way I did during that moment in Ironrose Castle, when my heart was begging me to dig in my heels and resist. Once I cross the border into Syhl Shallow, there will be no turning back. Seeking assistance—even sanctuary—from Karis Luran is as treasonous an act as I could conceive, short of driving a blade straight into Rhen myself.

  I wonder what Dustan will report to him about what transpired in Blind Hollow, how the people turned against the guards and supported me. How we fought alongside Rhen’s subjects and drove the guards and soldiers out of the town.

  If I aim to fool myself, I am failing. Crossing the border will not be my first act of treason.

  Considering the secret I kept, it is likely not even my second.

  A horn sounds through the valley, loud and repetitive.

  Lia Mara gasps and lifts her head. A large shape looms ahead of us. Green and black pennants hung high above snap in the wind. For the first time this morning, her eyes brighten.

  I’ve heard their horns before, when they rode into Emberfall to lay siege. My hand itches to draw my sword.

  Iisak floats down through the clouds to land at the back of our party. He told me this morning that he does not wish to approach in an offensive manner. If we have anything in common, dread for this moment seems to be it.

  Right now, I wish for his claws and fangs and brutality to be at my side.

  I remind myself again that I am not here to fight. Nor am I here to surrender.

  My heart pounds in my chest, disagreeing.

  Shapes appear in the mist ahead of us. Soldiers on horseback, clad in green and black. A dozen at least. Most carry crossbows.

  They’re all trained on us.

  I force my hands to stay on the reins.

  Lia Mara calls out to them. Her voice is joyous. Relieved. They shout back to her, and she looks at me quickly. Her voice is a rapid rush. “You must dismount. They want you to disarm.”

  I do not want to do either of these things. I want to turn this horse, gallop out of the pass, and ride straight for Ironrose to beg forgiveness.

  No. I do not want that. Lia Mara’s words from last night sit heavy in my thoughts, trapping me here.

  I kick my feet free of my stirrups and swing off the horse, glancing back at Jacob and Noah, at Tycho, whose face is pale. They will follow my lead.

  Run, my thoughts whisper, every moment of my training roaring at me to fight or retreat. These are your enemies. You are outnumbered. Run.

  But they are not my enemies. Not now.

  My fingers slip the loop at my sword belt, and the weapon drops to the ground. The daggers quickly follow. Behind me, I hear the others doing the same. My breathing feels shallow, but I step away from the horse and lift my hands to show I am unarmed.

  Lia Mara is still talking, her voice melodic yet commanding. The Syhl Shallow soldiers move forward as a unit and stop a short distance away. The two in the center dismount, while the others keep their crossbows trained on us.

  Jacob moves forward to stand at my side, his hands up similarly. His voice is very low, very quiet. “You don’t look too sure about this.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Our weapons are still in reach. If you want to bail, say the word.”

  I glance over to see that he is serious. He is as fearless as Harper, and as brutal as I am.

  “I underestimated you, Jake.”

  “Yup.”

  The two soldiers have reached us. They’re both clean-shaven with black hair and cream-colored skin, though one is middle-aged, with gray threading the hair at his temples. His armor bears extra adornment, a leather cross dyed in green and black and outlined in silver, likely signifying him as an officer. He looks from me to Jake, and then behind us. Taking our measure in one glance. If Iisak startles him, he gives no sign of it. His cool gaze returns to mine.

  When he speaks, his voice is very deep, very gruff, with a thicker accent than Lia Mara’s. “You have escorted a daughter of the Crown safely to our border.” He pauses, then extends a hand. “You have our thanks. My name is Captain Sen Domo. Welcome to Syhl Shallow, Prince Grey of Emberfall.”

  Prince Grey.

  I say nothing to correct them.

  Lia Mara was right. We’re taken to the guard station and asked to wait for a dignitary from the palace. Unlike the redbrick buildings I’m accustomed to in Emberfall, this guard station is built directly into the side of the mountain, with walls of wood and steel meeting up against exposed rock. Few windows allow light, but torches burn in each room.

  Everyone speaks my language, but I do not speak theirs, which feels like a disadvantage. I am certain fell siralla would not endear me to any of these guards.

  Regardless, I keep my silence, because the tension here is thick and uncertain. Tycho hangs near me, or, to my surprise, near the scraver. Iisak has taken a place near one of the narrow windows, and the guards give him a wide berth. They watch us closely, though, more so once Lia Mara is escorted to a separate area. I remind myself that I once watched Karis Luran and her people with equal scrutiny, my own blade ever ready.

  Eventually, food is brought, and we’re granted a reprieve. The guards leave us alone, a heavy door falling
into place.

  Jake’s eyes find mine. “Do you think we’re locked in?”

  “If not, there are guards waiting on the other side of the door.”

  Noah is the first to approach the food. The platter holds fruits and cheese, along with a wide slab of bread. He tears a small piece free but plays with it instead of sliding it into his mouth. “This feels like a holding cell.” At my raised eyebrows, he adds, “Where they’d hold you before putting you in jail. In prison.”

  “Prison?” echoes Tycho.

  “They won’t put anyone in prison,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure. Lia Mara made many assurances about her mother—but she also said her mother did not respect her. Karis Luran could toss us in a prison cell and negotiate with Rhen for my life—and Jake’s too, as Harper’s brother.

  My eyes flick to the window. It’s too narrow to fit through, though the misting rain has no trouble. The room is damp and cold and very much like a cell. Tycho pulls his arms more tightly against his body.

  “You’ll be all right,” I say to him.

  He meets my eyes, then nods.

  Iisak uncurls from where he lounged against the wall. His wings are pinned in tightly, the only sign of his own tension. He selects an apple from the pile of fruit on the table and brings it back to Tycho. “Here,” he says gently. “Eat, boy.”

  Jake watches this, then moves closer to me, keeping his voice down. “Does it bother you that they took Lia Mara?”

  “She is Karis Luran’s daughter. She is likely being questioned before we will be allowed to leave.”

  If we are allowed to leave.

  The door swings open, and Captain Sen Domo enters. The stern expression has not left his face. I long for my sword. For anything.

  He offers me a nod. “Your Highness. We will escort you to the palace. The queen is prepared to extend every hospitality to you.”

  This feels too easy. “And my people?”

  His eyebrows flicker as if he’s surprised by the question. “Why, yes, of course.” His gaze drifts past me. “With the exception of your … creature. The queen will see him separately.”

  Tycho takes a step back. “No.”

  The scraver maintains his position by the wall. “Do not trouble yourself,” he says. “They will not lay a hand on me.” A low growl slides out with the words. “Is that not so, Captain?”