Crown of Blood and Ruin: A romantic fairy tale fantasy (The Broken Kingdoms #3)(4)

“As you say. Blade up. Wider stance.” Halvar swatted my middle with the back of his hand, forcing a breathy grunt from my throat. “Core tight.”
After a final wink at Kari, Halvar returned to the front of the lines and raised one of his swords. When he cut the blade down, we attacked.
Twenty steps later I coughed when Kari tossed me onto my back once again.
Dust fluttered over my cheeks, sticking to the sweat on my skin. She leaned over her knees, catching her breath, then reached her hand out to help me up.
“All right, Elise?” Kari wiped her light hair out of her eyes. Timoran like me, but also a former raven. I found some kinship with her from our past lives, but also because Kari had captivated the heart of a fae the same as me. Halvar never stuttered, never even blinked over her life in Timoran. I wished others would do the same.
“I’m fine.” I staggered to my feet, scanning the others still fighting with a touch of envy. My friend, Siv, struck with such fluid strength as she sparred with two opponents, and already had one woman in a headlock.
“You’ve improved,” Kari said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. Shy as she was about Halvar’s public declarations, she kept him in her sights as he stalked the lines, correcting stances and grips.
“I’ve improved, yet still end up on the ground. At this rate, I might as well serve as the bait while you all sack Ravenspire.”
Kari snickered and shook her head. “Like Hal said, as consort, you will likely have no need to lift a blade.”
She said it to brighten my spirits, but it didn’t. I needed to know how to fight. I planned to stand at Valen’s side until he won back the throne that was rightfully his. No part of me intended to be an ornament who watched from a padded seat above the battlefield.
“All right,” Halvar shouted when the last pair called a draw. “Be gone with you all. Rest, eat, drink, bed each other, I care little. All but you, my lovely raven.”
He pointed at Kari, dark eyes smoldering in desire. She pretended to ignore him, but the moment his lips whispered against her ear, her irises flashed with similar need.
Siv sheathed her daggers, then hurried to my side, linking her arm with mine. “They return tonight.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Yes. I hope before nightfall. Calder places too many ravens near the gates of Ruskig after dark.”
Siv nodded a twitch in the corner of her mouth. “Do you ever stop to think of how much has changed? I picture Mattis at the Night Prince’s side, fighting, at last, for Etta. It still astounds me. And you—once a Kvinna, now consort to the King of Etta.”
“I cannot think on it too long or my head hurts,” I said with a laugh. I cared little whether Valen called me consort or queen, so long as he called me his. When he had posed as Legion Grey, I did not expect to love him. Certainly not him as a king of fury.
My body trembled the more I thought of him. Too long he’d been away, gathering more of his people from slavers and traders. His absence was felt by everyone, but I liked to think I felt it the most.
Siv left me once we reached the shanty she shared with Mattis.
Moments alone gave me time to reflect. Like Siv said, a great many things had happened in less than a turn. But more was to come before we could claim victory. The heaviest weight on my heart was Sol Ferus.
Valen rarely spoke of his brother. But I could see the pain behind his eyes. Sol was used for the benefit of Ravenspire and more than anything I wanted to rescue him. For Valen, for Sol, for Tor. To know he lived but was tortured and manipulated daily was almost too much for his consort to bear.
Tor spoke little to others, but to me he shared some burdens. Perhaps it was because I also knew the risks of being a Ferus consort.
Perhaps it was because we were friends.
Sol needed to go free. I felt it in my bones he would be needed to restore Etta as much as Valen. With the Sun Prince’s dark fury against us, he was also the greatest obstacle.
Some called for his death, calling it mercy. A way to free him from his torture. But I’d already promised myself to do anything within my power to bring Sol here alive. Valen had lost so many.
He’d already mourned his brother before; he would not do it again.
I kicked at some brambles on the path to the royal longhouse. Ruskig was fading into winter, but still the buds of moonvane, nettles, and rowan were vibrant against the dark mossy trees. Shanties kept popping up, and now the Night Folk refuge looked like a small town. In the center was a worship chantry, a square for announcements, and a small marketplace. We didn’t use shim coin in Ruskig, but trade was growing with our numbers.
A narrow canyon path led to a private beach where we caught salmon and herring. Calder blocked most trade routes, hoping to starve us out, no doubt. The thing about earth fury, though, was there was often enough magic to grow plumper berries, heartier vegetables, and it helped when Stieg and Casper used their air and water fury to pull the tides over our fishing nets.
For now, we had enough to fill our bellies.
Over the treetops, the sun faded. Lanterns speckled windows of shanties, and by the time I reached the longhouse, I didn’t notice the huddle of men guarding the door.
I groaned. Klok was an elder of Ruskig, and kind enough. But the others were new or from Crispin’s refugees. I’d been among the party to bring the refugees from damp sea caves into Ruskig.
Crispin, their leader, didn’t give me much thought. He’d wrinkle his nose at the sight of me sometimes, but never said a word. I wish I could say the same for some of his men.
The more they prattled on about Timorans, the more newcomers looked at me with the same reservation, the same disdain.