Page 6 of A Crown of Tears and Treason (The Curse of Silver Secrets and Cruel Shadows #1)

Chapter

Six

EVIE

M y bones rattled.

My body hurt.

I was groggy and sluggish.

At least that meant I wasn’t dead.

The last time I’d felt this pain, I’d fallen from a tree, landing straight on my back. That was the only moment I saw my mother using magic, the blue tendrils of power whirling from her hands into my chest; I couldn’t remember anything else, half-passed out from the ache and fighting to gulp air into my lungs.

But I was no longer seven, my mother was dead, and I needed to open my eyes before I followed her to the grave.

I woke up with a start, struggling to open my eyes.

The wedding.

Blood.

The Dragon.

Arrows. Poisoned arrows.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the fog that had swamped my thoughts.

My cousins. Gods, let them be alive. Please .

As I blinked the haziness away, a black figure began to take shape. My hands fisted, ready to strike, before his sharp, intimidating face came into focus.

“You,” I whispered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

It wasn’t The Dragon.

A part of me tensed even more at facing one of his assassins.

Better the enemy you knew.

The ghost from my wedding, who’d frozen my guests with a wave of his hand. As the arrows began to rain, he’d turned into a blur of blades, vanishing out of sight.

The Dragon had whisked me off Sanctua Sirena, growling at any and all Serpents who’d dared wander too close, and escorted me onto the black ship waiting in the furious waves. The sea itself was angry at what had happened.

The prince had instructed this assassin to guard me with his life, then disappeared to do whatever powerful, intimidating Clan heirs did after a massacre.

“He can’t accompany you into the Capital,” the ghost had said as my gaze had trailed after the prince. “That indescribable delight will fall on my shoulders.”

He’d sounded pissed then and he looked pissed now, as we sat across from each other in a carriage filled with gold filigree and red velvet cushions that felt wonderful against my backside.

But comfort made you careless.

The last thing I remembered were a dozen Brotherhood assassins watching me as I gulped down a glass of water. Then everything went cloudy and dark and I fell asleep–

Godsdammit.

“You,” I said with more strength. “You did something to the water.”

Of course he had. This wasn’t the wilderness, where I drank from the creek, highly aware of any noise, in case a wolf was craving human flesh that morning.

Clan world was so much more deadly.

“You’re a slippery wisp of a creature and I was in no mood to fish you out of the waves,” he said, voice like icicles. He didn’t even bother to deny it.

I clenched my jaw, swallowing my words. He didn’t need to know I was deathly afraid of any body of water that went past my knees, no point in giving them more weapons to use against me.

Fear was a terrible, powerful thing. And I wouldn’t do anything reckless to endanger my family.

Not again.

“You could have let me drown,” I said.

“And miss this stellar conversation?” He shrugged his big shoulders. “Some regrets we can live with.”

He was about as happy with me being here as I was.

He had steely gray eyes, but they seemed to glow whenever he blinked. Which wasn’t often; he was too focused on analyzing me.

A hunter’s gaze.

He was tall, his short blond hair almost touching the patterned roof of the carriage, but he had the body of a fighter, looking more like a warrior from the fearsome northern Clans. But his tight muscles pushed against the black leather of a Blood Brotherhood uniform. An assassin’s uniform.

“Where are my cousins?”

“They’re safe,” he said after a beat of silence.

Safe . What did that mean by Blood Brotherhood standards? Bleeding on a cot or back in their own strongholds or Aquila, plotting revenge?

My traitorous heart wanted to believe. Wanted to hope.

Safe would have to do for now.

“Who are you?” I asked. Apart from being menacing without saying a word; even his breathing had me on edge. So calm and controlled, when I gulped breath after shaky breath as the carriage jolted over stones and twigs.

“The Blood Brotherhood’s Commander.” No real name. Smart.

We weren’t alone on this rickety path. From the corner of my eye, I spied another carriage behind us. My ears picked up at least five horses, mighty hooves striking the ground at a fast pace.

We were not alone.

My heart gave a bitter echo. Was Zorin safe? Was he still wandering through the mountains or had he been captured like me? I sealed that worry deep inside me, along with so many others I had to live with.

I wouldn’t survive here for long if panic took over. I didn’t even know where here was.

Through the delicate lace curtains, I spied a forest unlike any I’d seen. No, not a forest. A jungle, like the ones in the book back home.

Plump, lush plants spread as far as I could see. We were far away from the Marea Luminara shores, then.

I was used to firs and stubborn plants that made due with the only light rays brave enough to cross the mountain peaks, not flowers as big as my head and leaves I could comfortably swaddle my entire body in.

The sun here was almost blinding and it didn’t have the hint of cold it always had back at the cabin. It smelled amazing, too, like a freshness that didn’t want to dig into my lungs and burrow there. We were definitely somewhere near a coast. The air tasted salty.

Huge, jeweled-colored insects flew between the flowers, completely unbothered, as trees tall as churches rose in the distance, with vines sloping between them. Every hundred feet or so, stone statues peeked back at me from behind the leaves. They represented some kind of animal I couldn’t name, with big jaws and mighty claws, ready to strike. In the distance, I heard growls and roars I didn’t recognize. They might not have been animals at all.

These weren’t the Protectorate’s perfectly polished gardens, with trimmed shrubs and roses guarding them.

I was so far away from everything I’d ever known.

What had I done?

The question echoed in my brain on a loop, gaining momentum until it sounded like a million voices roaring for an answer.

I didn’t have any.

The carriage suddenly swerved to the right, shuddering up a hill. Still dizzy, my body tilted to the side, while the Commander remained perfectly still. His stone eyes glimmered as he blinked my way with a dissatisfied scoff.

He could go to Xamor’s merciless war hounds for all I cared.

I’d been right. On the main path we’d just exited, four other carriages barreled straight ahead, the third one glistening brighter than the others. From the barest glimpse I got of it, it looked like it had been carved out of bone, with huge spirals adorning its sides.

My chest tightened. “Where are we going?”

“To the Blood Brotherhood Capital,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in all of Malhaven. He shook his head then murmured, “I didn’t think you were slow, too.”

I bristled instantly, shoulders straightening.

I didn’t have much force in my emaciated limbs.

I couldn’t fight an assassin and didn’t know much about Clan life.

And I couldn’t do magic.

But I was not stupid.

“This doesn’t look or feel like a main road,” I said just as the carriage’s wheels jerked violently against the rocks. “The path’s more narrow, the bushes look wilder, and we’re going uphill. The Blood Brotherhood is one of the biggest and strongest Clans in Malhaven. You can afford proper streets and that grand Capital of yours would be too big to build on top of a mountain. I can smell the sea and we got here by boat. Sea means fish and people have to eat, especially in a big city, so you’d build close to the shore.”

The disdain vanished from the Commander’s face. Now he looked at me like he was sizing me up. “So you are a strategist.”

If only. “I don’t have your skills, but I can hold my own. We were the fourth carriage in the envoy. Not first or last, we were right behind the beautiful one that would attract all attention away from us. So where. Are. We. Going?”

I doubted The Dragon would go through all that trouble at my wedding to just take me out back and gut me, but I could never tell with Clans. Fabrian had risked so much to get me in front of that altar and he’d threatened to kill me the first chance he got.

With him gone, I had no lead into my parents’ murders. If Fabrian hadn’t sent those assassins…who had?

So many questions I had no answers for. So many Clan rules I had to learn.

The Commander leaned back against the red velvet seat, silently assessing.

“The Citadel, where the royal palace grounds are,” he said at last, reluctant even then. “They’re sealed off from the rest of the Capital. Few can get in, fewer can get out. The prince insists on keeping you safe, so we’re taking the service road. And that other carriage was a diversion.”

There was that word again. Safe . I almost laughed. “Is a furious crowd waiting to tear me apart?”

“No, but maybe an assassin or two. Not all Blood Brotherhood members are happy the prince came for you.”

Great.

All I had on me were my pendant, my switchblade, and my wedding dress, still stained with Fabrian’ blood. And the priest’s. I shuddered, ignoring my stained hem for now.

My parents would have probably scolded me. Fabric was precious, and every stain could be washed away. And if it couldn’t, well, vanity was a luxury and nobody could see you up in the mountains anyway.

I clenched my jaw.

I couldn’t think of my parents now. I had to be strong.

I had to survive.

But my traitorous heart pounded faster. I’d been so foolish. So ravenous for freedom, to exchange the misery of the cabin for the magnificence of the Clan.

I’d gotten my wish.

Here I was, witnessing Clan murders left and right.

How could I survive this world? I hadn’t been taught to scheme, guess intentions, and lie with a smile on my face and a glimmer in my eyes.

I’d learned to purse my lips and endure. What blisters were. What it felt like to go to bed hungry and count the outline of my ribs to think of something, anything, other than the roaches crawling all over the floor. Not to ask too many questions, and definitely not to expect an answer back, other than, “Why does it matter? You’re safe.”

I’d hated that suffocating safety.

But I’d learned from it. Survived it. My emaciated frame let me perch on the thinnest tree branches. I was quick on my feet, slipping and sliding after rabbits, and I could read the change of the weather in the way the leaves moved.

A terrible, lonely existence. Endless days without a word spoken to me because I hadn’t found enough berries or just because the wind had howled all night and my parents hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest.

The only company I had was Zorin, a white stallion with golden flecks running through his mane and tail. The god Xamor himself must have rode a steed like that into one of his legendary battles. Zorin was majestic and he knew it.

He appeared one day and had simply refused to leave–and to let anyone but me ride him, even though my mother had wanted him for herself at first.

I felt the magic thrum through him when I braided his tail, just like I’d seen grandpa Constantine do in his own sprawling stables.

Around him, I talked about all the things I never dared to reveal to my parents, about how I craved to have blue tendrils swirling around my hands.

I knew I had some sliver of power, grandpa Constantine had told me so. But it was useless if I didn’t know how to channel it.

The only mention of magic that was allowed were warnings about the warding spells.

Don’t go too far from the cabin, the wards will fail.

Don’t wander too close to the edge of the forest, the wards will know.

The wards sense if you think about running away.

Wards, wards, wards.

A cage, nothing more.

I cracked it open on my twenty-first birthday.

The last winter had been long and harsh, almost as bad as the one we’d endured when I’d been eighteen. I remembered that year, because I should have been back at Protectorate headquarters, in front of our ancestral shrine, being officially inducted as a Clan member, swearing loyalty, and formally accepting the title of future leader.

I’d hoped, every single day of those long, miserable months, that grandpa Constantine would somehow find and save me. By that point, I should have known better than to hope.

I spent my twenty-first birthday killing a deer. Not my first, but the only time my switchblade had taken a life. The trap had malfunctioned, only mangling its leg, and we were all so hungry. He wouldn’t have survived for long with a wound like that, but feeling his last breaths as I struck its neck and kept my blade in there, unmoving, so he’d die faster and as painlessly as possible…

Even after washing my hands in the river until my fingers numbed, I still smelled its blood on my hands.

I dragged the deer back to the cabin with all my might, eyes stinging. He was still so warm and I was so cold and numb inside.

As I finally reached the cabin, sun setting behind me, my father came out. “Finally. What took you so long?”

The strained chord in me finally snapped. I let go of the deer and faced my father head on.

“Is this what you want for me?” I’d asked in a deadly whisper, not recognizing my own voice.

He’d rolled his eyes. My blood boiled and I yelled, for the first time since I was five. “I’m twenty-one years-old today–”

A flash of surprise lit up his dark gaze. He’d forgotten about my birthday. Maybe he’d forgotten I’d grown up altogether.

“–what’s going to happen to me?” I went on, voice breaking and me hating myself for it. I felt so powerless in front of my parents. “What will my future look like after you and Mom die ?”

“Don’t say that,” he’d said, a warning in his tone.

“It’s a reality, isn’t it?” I’d splayed out my palms, as if trying to reach for something, anything. My left hand landed on the only book we had, the one that accessed the parts of the library my parents thought acceptable . Geography, fairytales, and history books that said nothing about the past fifty years flashed on its pages when I opened it. I waved it in his face. “Do you think I’m going to live here on my own, reading the same bullshit over and over and over again, just waiting to die too?”

“Manners!” my mother had yelled, coming out of the cabin.

“For who?” I roared, throwing the book to the ground. “There’s nobody here! There’s nothing here.”

In that moment, I felt nothing but bitterness from them and for them. It was weird, to have someone cleave your soul in two almost every day, despise them for it, and still crave their affection. Hoping this was the day they’d stare at you with more than disappointment or say one kind word that wasn’t followed by a long exhale that diluted it and somehow made you feel like more of an inconvenience than when you were ignored.

In the silence that followed, my mother let out one of those sighs that made me believe she regretted that she’d been burdened with me, her daughter.

“You haven’t changed,” she said. “You’re still Constantine’s precious granddaughter, thinking you’re owed a life of luxury and wanting shiny little trinkets.”

I’d given up on luxury the first time I’d had to unravel the hem of my pants to use the threads to tie my shoes. I wanted the barrest of necessities and was chided for it.

My mother came to stand next to my father, grabbing his hand. He squeezed it back, as if on instinct. That small gesture broke me more than all the warnings and threats they’d thrown at me over the years.

They could never understand my loneliness. They would never live it, as long as they had each other.

All the fight left me and I did the only thing I could.

I ran.

“Don’t go past the wards!” my mother cried out after me. I heard the panic in her voice.

I didn’t care.

I ran and I ran and I ran, past the trees I’d feared in my childhood, past the spot where I’d killed my first deer, right to the ridge of the hill, the barrier for the protective wards.

Beyond it was a beautiful meadow I’d watch from behind the transparent barrier, wistful and frightened to take one more step. Small purple flowers were struggling to open after the chilly spring, and the grass was green, beckoning me to break the rules. To be adventurous. To have courage, for once in my life.

That day, I only hesitated for a second before taking a step.

Then another.

One more.

Soon enough, I’d found myself in the middle of the meadow.

Nothing happened.

The sky didn’t fall, the ground didn’t split to swallow me whole, and grandpa Constantine didn’t come blazing out of the sky to save me.

I didn’t feel…anything.

No zing of power, no warning hum.

My knees had given out and I’d crumpled to the soggy ground, releasing more than a decade’s worth of tears. I’d sobbed, I’d trembled, I’d cursed the gods with one breath and pleaded for their mercy in the next.

By the time Zorin’s hooves thumped behind me, I was exhausted.

He’d nudged me with his muzzle until I stood up. Then he escorted me back home without a sound.

Only there wasn’t a home there anymore–only fire, ash, and the smell of burning flesh.

I’d walked past the wards and they’d found us.

The cabin was ablaze and my parents…their eyes. Lifeless. I’d shaken them madly, as if I could bring them back to life, begging for their forgiveness.

I knew, without a doubt, that if there was an afterlife like the vestals and priests preached, my parents would never forgive me.

The carriage jolted, bringing me back to reality.

I closed my eyes, willing the bloody image away. But it only came more into focus, hooking itself in my mind, burrowing deeper and deeper.

I couldn’t mourn right now. They’d be so disappointed if I bothered with emotions instead of surviving.

Whatever it took.

First, I had to take care of my basic needs. I had shelter from the elements–for now. I could go days without food. But I was thirsty enough that my throat hurt. The journey here must have been long. Marea Luminara could be traversed in two days with strong winds and a good zephyr spell in its sails, according to the Tales of Tidal Triumph, one of the books I was allowed to read; whenever it deigned to appear on the pages, which wasn’t often.

I didn’t have enough details to figure out how far away from home I was.

Home . I didn’t even know what that was for me.

I licked my parched lips. The air here was boiling.

Water. I needed water.

The carriage slowed just as the thicket became dense enough to swallow us. An unforgiving wall loomed in front, made out of black rocks that looked spewed from a volcano. It rose tall enough that I couldn’t see its top from the carriage, no matter how hard I craned my neck.

The carriage passed through the small hole at its base. The wall was so thick, it blocked out all the light for a moment.

As I turned to look at it, the lower stones seemed to move, like the wall was restitching itself. Sealing me inside.

“Don’t bother with an escape plan,” the Commander said. “That opening will be gone by the time we stop and will never reappear.”

Completely sealed inside.

“I didn’t go through all the trouble of coming here just to run away.” I’d come here to protect my family. Leaving would endanger them. It was as simple as that.

The last time I’d run away, even for a moment, my parents had been killed.

Never again.

The Commander gave me a wry smirk; maybe he and the prince had taken disdain classes together. “I trust the words of Protectorate First Family less than–”

He stiffened as the carriage halted. One of his large hands circled a dagger, even as I dug around in the corset for the switchblade.

He pressed one long finger against his lips. With quick grace, he spun toward the door, kicking it open.

Then his shoulder deflated, as he muttered a low curse and shielded his weapon. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Just as my fingers touched the hilt of my blade, he leaned to the side.

I wasn’t staring at an execution squad or an assassin, oh, no. I was face to face with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.