The Broken Realm

by Sarah M. Cradit

  Asherley dropped the bow to her side and knelt down. “When you are king, you will have many men eager and willing to fire their own arrows at your pleasure.”

  Stefan’s face contorted as he considered this. “Mother says we must learn to do for ourselves.”

  Asherley stood again, eyes returning to the raven. She couldn’t lose sight of the little spy. “Your mother is very wise. A less clever woman would not have kept you both alive in that dungeon, all those years. She is right, Stefan. Learn to do for yourself, so that when you choose to have others do for you, you know that command comes not from ineptitude but authority.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “You will.” The raven cawed, flapping its wings. Taunting. “Now, go. I’ll be back inside shortly.”

  She turned to watch him scamper off, and when she returned her gaze to the branch, the raven was gone. She regretted not firing her arrow. It might not provide answers as to why the Ravenwoods had been spying on them, but it would’ve quelled the awful sense of being powerless against it.

  There was no worse feeling to Asherley, and she’d built the whole of her life around avoiding circumstances where she had no choice but to surrender her power. Even in Duncarrow, she’d been in control of her destiny. She’d never doubted her sway over the king, only the potency and immediacy of her charm. She’d chosen to go away with him, seeing a future where the truth that would save the kingdom could be found only at Duncarrow. Finding that truth had empowered her further, but somewhere on the voyage away from those rocky shores, she’d lost her control.

  Assyria was calling all the moves. It was Assyria who picked Eastport as their destination. Assyria who ordered the ship and contents sunk into the sea to keep the Rhiagain men off their trail. Assyria who turned on those who had been most loyal, her servants, and slit their throats with her own hand.

  Assyria who was now, Asherley suspected, plotting behind their backs with Lord Warwick.

  Scholar Edevane was the one who led them to the cave, deposited into a blind turn deep in Torrin’s Pass. So high only the ravens could spot them. His name was not on Eoghan’s list of traitors, for though he’d served Darrick Rhiagain with loyalty, when Darrick was sent to the Wastelands, Edevane returned to his home, and his life as a scholar of Oldcastle. His name slipped away from the tongues that would tie the men together, and he garnered great respect for his commitment to the Resplendent Reliquary. All the while, plotting with Assyria, biding their time. When he rode into Wulfsgate requesting audience with the Lady of the Northerlands, his strong reputation had made it no challenging matter to gain entrance.

  Since then, Gretchen sent her son and daughter-in-law to deliver supplies, but they, too, awaited direction on the matter of Darrick. Asherley understood Assyria’s impatience to move, to take action, but also feared it would be what got them all killed.

  She ducked into a patch of bushes and drank from the vial Aylen had brought her on the first trip. Asherley had no cause to think she was with child, but nor did she have any intention of allowing such horrors to sneak up on her. Drink the first vial in its entirety right away. Then, two sips from the second vial every evening, for a fortnight, and the matter is settled.

  It was not the same root women used in the Westerlands. The vile, bitter taste of the boiled leaves turned her stomach. But there would be no Rhiagain grown from her womb.

  But Aylen had brought questions with her as well. I must ask... not for my own curiosity, but for the sake of your life, Lady Blackwood. Is the man you are trying to rid from your body’s memory a Rhiagain?

  The man is King Eoghan.

  Aylen had tried to hide her shock at this, but failed miserably. I see. Well, I ask because in my studies at the Sepulchre, I came across a rare and terrible disease, a fatal one, passed by some Rhiagain men to women they share intimate relations with. I wish I could tell you there was a cure, but there is not. Not beyond Duncarrow, that is. It is not... it is not for certain that one will be afflicted by it, but it is almost for certain that one will eventually succumb to it if they do.

  Asherley read into the woman’s whispers then, and she saw how and why the Magi had come upon such knowledge. She fought her tears as she heard Aylen’s memories of Hollyn’s final moments; Aylen’s refusal to leave her side until the very last.

  I am fine, Lady Dereham. I’ve had no illness other than my own restlessness. And you must let go of your guilt for not being able to save Hollyn. Forgive me, also, for reading your whispers. I know you’d take this secret to your tomb, but I would not be denied the honor of embracing the woman who cared for my eldest daughter until her last breath.

  Asherley knew Hollyn was dead before reading Aylen’s whispers. She sensed the loss of her own blood kin, the void where Hollyn’s force had once lived in her heart. But she’d resigned herself to this loss long before it came to pass, and she had three other children, and a husband, to keep safe. Ember was in Wulfsgate, which was precisely where Asherley had hoped she’d go. Brandyn was safe at the Sepulchre. It was only Gabi still lost to her, but she still sensed the vibrance of her youngest burning bright.

  Ember, her mirror. The flame of her heart. She’d led them all. It should have always been Ember to lead when Asherley’s promise was spent, and now, she’d decided, it would be. Byrne would understand why she changed her mind and returned the Westerlands to a woman’s rule. He knew Ember’s fire better than anyone.

  “Ignore the ravens,” Assyria said.

  “There are no ravens.”

  “Not anymore. You scared them off.”

  “I haven’t harmed a single one. They are my blood.”

  “I know,” Assyria said. “That’s how you see it. To them, you are the progeny of a defector.”

  “Hmph.” Asherley tightened her jaw.

  “I may not possess your ability to read whispers, Lady Blackwood, but I know the look of a woman conflicted.”

  “Your powers of observation are without match, Princess.”

  Assyria grunted a laugh. “You question our alliance. You’ve questioned it for a while.”

  “We are both eager for action,” Asherley said. “But you are ready to risk the lives of everyone for it, and I am not.”

  Assyria turned to face her. “You are cunning and clever, Lady Blackwood. I admired you from afar for many years before meeting you, and I was not disappointed. I see a woman who, like me, knows her power is not limited to what a man would give her. But if it were not for me, Darrick would be dead. You would still be on Duncarrow. Anabella and Stefan would be wasting away in the sky dungeon, or even dead, for Correen had already planted this seed in Eoghan’s mind, and it was taking bloom. Your control of my brother was a delight to watch, but for all your hold on him, you had no power. I put in years, and you, days. My years earned his trust, and that trust allowed me to secret us away from that wretched place.”

  “I would not deny any of that.”

  “And yet?”

  “And yet, I fear your recklessness will not always lead to such successes. The Rhiagains have kept their world as small as Duncarrow. There, you are a god. Here, you are reviled. This world is not your world.”

  Assyria ran a finger through Asherley’s dark hair. “Fear will bind you, Asherley. It will utterly stifle you, until there is nothing left but the memory of what you could have been.”

  “Spare me your pretty words. I fear very little, and you know it.”

  “You fear for the lives of those you don’t even know. Who is Anabella to you? Ransom? Scholar Edevane?”

  Asherley spun on her. “Nothing at all until you decided you needed me. And that is a curious thing, is it not? That for all your years with the king and his trust it was a lady of the realm you required to actually see it through?” Asherley shook her head. “But now? Now, they are my charge, and I have no choice but to concern myself with their fate.”

  “I have spent years of my life protecting Anabella and Stefan. They were never not
hing to me. Remember that when you let your mind wander on my intentions,” Assyria said before returning to the cave.

  * * *

  “What are you doing?” Alasyr demanded. “I have no desire to speak with you.”

  “But you do. Obviously.” Ember crunched through the snow, keeping her distance but narrowing the gap. She wrapped her arms over her chest, tucking her gloved fingers under her arms.

  “I do not.”

  “What other explanation could there be for your relentless stalking of me?”

  “My being here has nothing to do with you. I’ve told you my reasons. Is it my fault you’re incapable of grasping them?”

  “You have,” Ember said. “Your sister. Who is not here.”

  “Not here, but they know where she is.”

  “Do you not think if the Derehams knew where she was they wouldn’t have brought their own children home by now?” Ember asked. “They live with their worry, too, but they don’t charge up to The Rookery demanding answers.”

  “One cannot charge The Rookery. There is only flight.”

  “Whatever.”

  Alasyr pressed his lips tight in anger. He pulled back whatever response he had for her and changed direction, nodding behind her. “Your lover is watching.”

  “Seems only fair, since you’ve been watching us.”

  “Rutting like beasts in the garden for anyone to see. Hardly my fault for seeing it.”

  Ember grinned. “You should try it some time.”

  Alasyr sneered, diverting his eyes. “Whenever I see you, it becomes ever clearer what foul things happen when you mix our pure blood with the sludge of man.”

  Ember took a step closer. “Your lot tell other Ravenwoods they will lose their magic when they leave. But we all have it. Me. My sisters, and brother. My mother. Though I never met my great-grandmother, Rhosyn, we still speak of her power.”

  “Fly away, then. Show me.”

  “What if I did?”

  “Then do it, and stop speaking in mysteries.”

  Ember hid the burgeoning frown. He’d presented a conundrum she hadn’t solved yet. It was known that the closer to Midnight Crest, the more potent the magic of one with Ravenwood blood. Rhosyn herself was clipped from flight in the Westerlands, but upon return, on a visit to Wulfsgate, again found her wings.

  So where was Ember’s? If she could only find her raven form, she could fly to her mother and wouldn’t need the Derehams.

  “See?” Alasyr grinned, pleased. “Your blood is tainted. Unclean. What you have is an abomination, not a gift.”

  “Your life must be very sad, Alasyr Ravenwood, if your delights are limited to the deficiencies of others,” Ember said. “Is there really nothing else that brings you joy?”

  “Ravenna,” Alasyr replied, head raised in defiance of her charge. “Ravenna brought me joy. All of it.”

  Ember nodded sadly. “What a burden she must have borne for you, then.” She pointed behind her. “I have my own problems to contend with now. Goodbye. Or, as the Northerlanders say, ‘I’ll see you at first snow.’”

  “It always snows. How would one know the first?”

  Ember laughed. “Perhaps the expression doesn’t mean what I think it does, then.”

  * * *

  “Careful,” Gretchen warned. “Your father is back from his ride with Alric.”

  Christian stifled a sigh. “I don’t like keeping things from him.”

  “You know why we do.”

  “Why you do.” Christian leaned against the hearth. “I understand you’ve been unhappy with some of his choices.”

  “In particular,” Gretchen said, “the one involving selling your sister away like cattle. There is also the matter of his witlessness causing your brother to be taken away to Duncarrow in chains.”

  “But Pieter is safe now.”

  “Your father gets no credit for this.”

  Christian grimaced. “I don’t like it, either. Had I been here, I would have tried with all my power to dissuade him from sending Lisbet.”

  “And your pleas would have fallen upon a man with no ears to hear. Holden is as stubborn as he is a fool.” Gretchen pressed her lips tight. “I love your father, Christian. But his foolishness could be borne when it did not put my children in danger. I cannot forgive or look past that.”

  “But he’s already acquiesced to you and your way of doing things. He’s accepted your leadership on recent matters. As the lord of the Northerlands, that’s no small thing. It isn’t right to cut him out entirely.” He paused before saying the next. “And to do so may make him less than amenable to continuing an arrangement he has no legal obligation to hold to.”

  Gretchen turned away. “You’ve been away a long time, Christian. A lot has changed here.”

  “Some has changed. He has not. You have not.” Christian wanted to approach his mother, to afford her some small, warm gesture, but the ice between them was still melting. “I offered him Iceborne. He wouldn’t accept.”

  “Did you really expect him to?” She laughed. “You think I’m stubborn about your future, but it is your father who cannot accept truths.”

  “Still, I won’t lie to him.”

  “Did I ask you to lie?” she said into the darkness.

  “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “I ask nothing of you,” Gretchen hissed. “I know better.”

  The words stung, and she seemed to know it, because she turned, immediately, apology burning in her eyes. “Forgive me, Son. I didn’t mean it.”

  “You did,” Christian said. He feigned a smile. “It’s all right, Mother. I understand why you feel as you do. I deserve it.”

  Gretchen shook her head. “I once thought so, but as I look around me, at what has become of our family, I find myself instead envious of you.”

  “Of me? You do know I am on banishment from the Sepulchre, my home?”

  “Wulfsgate is your home,” Gretchen said. “Whether you choose it or not. And though I know you may not recognize the world you left, you must trust me when I tell you that your father will, in spite of his best intentions, impair our efforts and put many lives at risk.”

  “So you intend to send another scout to Khallum then? And not wait for him to send his own?”

  “You and Aylen said yourselves, the situation in the cave grows tenuous. Khallum may be content to wait, but they are not. And I fear what will happen if the two groups come out of accord.”

  “Aylen says it’s not Lady Blackwood, but Princess Assyria who struggles with inaction.”

  Gretchen laughed with a light sneer. “Lady Blackwood struggles too, I assure you, she just possesses a deeper wisdom to prevent poor decisions from risking everything she’s worked for. And when she learns what befell Byrne, what little patience she possesses will implode.”

  “We haven’t said a word.”

  “It isn’t what you say. It’s what you think.”

  “I know, Mother. You told us about the whispers. We’ve been cautious.”

  Gretchen’s suspicious gaze lingered on him longer than he liked.

  “It’s done. I already sent the scout,” she said. “So tell him, if you like. He’s too late to stop it.”

  His mother left the room before he could think of what to say. Almost right away, someone else joined him.

  Emberley.

  “Wipe the fear off your face, Christian. I don’t care about the scout. Who would I tell?”

  Christian downed the last of his mother’s wine and set the glass down a little too hard on the table. “I know your mother is a reader of whispers, but it’s impolite to listen in on conversations that don’t include you.”

  Ember shrugged. “It’s not my fault the two of you couldn’t control your voices. I didn’t come here to talk about Lady Gretchen sneaking around behind Lord Holden’s back. I came to talk about my mother.”

  “I told you I’m happy to bring her a note from you, or any other gifts, as we’ve been doing. Leave them
with Aylen.” Christian made toward the great hall, but she was right behind him.

  “She doesn’t want my notes. She wants me.”

  Christian stopped, halting unintentionally near the great woven tapestry of Torrin’s Pass. He hoped she didn’t see the flicker of familiarity and guilt. “What she wants is for you to be safe. And you are. Here. Give her one less thing to worry about.”

  “Hmph,” Ember said. “Do you know my mother? I do. Quite well, in fact. Has she asked after me? Asked to see me? Don’t lie.”

  Christian sighed and turned his head to the side.

  “So you can take me with you next time you go, or I will ask my new friend Alasyr Ravenwood to scour the whole of the Northerlands and tell me where I can find her.”

  Christian’s mouth dropped. “You are not actually friends with Alasyr Ravenwood?”

  “Now you’re interested.”

  Christian leaned in, lowering his voice. “Ember, you’re a wise girl. So you should know, there’s no good that can come from befriending him. He’s after revenge, not companionship.”

  “He seems to think I can aid him in both regards.”

  “He asked you to seek revenge on his behalf?”

  “No,” Ember said after a long silence. “Nor would I help him. But it suits me that he thinks I might. Because I will ask for his aid, Christian, if you will not offer your own.”

  Christian looked ahead and behind him to ensure no one else had joined them in the long hall. “If I say yes, you tell no one. Not Marsh. Not your new sorcerer friend. Definitely not my mother. She’ll be furious once she realizes.”

  “You have my word.”

  “And you bury every bit of sorrow for your father somewhere deep, somewhere even your mother cannot go with her reading of whispers, because she doesn’t know he’s dead.”

  Ember’s brows lifted. “No one has told her?”

  “No one has told her. No one will tell her, until it is safe to do so,” Christian said. The fire died away from his words, and he softened. “I know she’s your mother. You’re still a child. This must be hard for you.”

  The look Ember gave him could have melted the snow in the tapestry behind him. “I’m not a child, Lord Dereham. But my sister was, when she died. She had the sense of a babe. My mother knew it, and that’s why she chose me to lead us out of danger. She knew Hollyn was dying. And now that Hollyn is dead, it will be me, just as it was me who delivered the others toward safekeeping, who will look her in the eye and deliver that truth.”