Page 11 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses (Cursed Fae Courts #1)

Chapter Eleven

Aurelia

T rapped in a stranger’s bedroom, I accepted the fact that I would have to commit murder if I wanted to make it home. Venturing this far into the Broadlands had been a risk, but I’d had little choice. Apparently, the monsters that prowled here were counting on that.

I paused just inside the doorway of what had once been a very modest bedroom—probably belonging to a farmer if the adjacent barn was any indication. On the other side of the small room, the wooden frame of the bed had rotted so that it rested unevenly on two legs instead of four. The mattress had already disintegrated and was now nothing more than a pile of stuffing. And there was a dampness in the air that didn’t bode well for the stability of the place.

It was old and unkempt.

Forgotten.

Just like me.

But I much preferred being forgotten to being found by one of her creatures.

I stood perfectly still and listened for signs someone else was with me inside the tiny, rotting cabin. Well, someone other than the dead healer I’d come to find. I glanced again at her fae body slumped in the corner opposite the bed, throat cut and drained of blood. For what, I was sure I didn’t want to know.

Dark magic. Rituals.

Pleas for more magic to be imbued upon the petitioner.

Every fae in Menryth wanted more magic. I couldn’t blame them when its waning presence only left them more defenseless.

Then again, the Broadlands and the Trolech Forest that bordered it were full of nightmarish creatures. Any one of them might’ve wanted her blood for nourishment or enjoyment just as easily as for a sacrifice. Either way, I’d been too late.

And I wasn’t the only one who’d been drawn to the scent of her spilled blood.

For a moment, there was only the complete stillness that had been the hallmark of my world for the last seven years. At first, that stillness had been a reprieve from the constant demands of royal life. I’d dreaded my marriage and the war that would follow, and while it shamed me to admit it, that first year had been a gift in some ways. A clemency. But then I’d come to realize that stillness was its own kind of prison.

After seven years, the silence grew to a roar when I concentrated on it—like now.

Most days, I tried very hard to ignore that roar—and the nightmare it represented—but in this moment, ignoring it could very well kill me. And all of them along with me.

I would never let anything happen to my family.

I focused on the small changes in the air just like Sonoma had taught me and listened harder. The abandoned farmhouse creaked on its rotting foundation, settling around me. Outside the window, the grass rustled softly in the slight breeze.

It was all so natural. Nothing ominous .

But my sensitive ears caught another sound. No more than a shift of the air, but I knew what it was.

Outside the cabin, someone approached.

A moment later, the front door opened, creaking on loose hinges.

Footsteps clunked as the visitor stepped into the sagging main room.

I braced myself, surprised to find hope rising at the sound. Maybe the visitor was another fae. Or something friendly. The Autumn prince’s face flashed in my mind. Callan was nothing more than a daydream. A remembrance that I’d once not be so isolated and alone. That parties and laughter and dancing had been real. And in this moment, I wondered what it might be like to have that daydream back again.

Before I could temper my longing, the scent hit me. I wrinkled my nose, the foul odor confirming what I already knew: it wasn’t friendly.

In fact, it wasn’t someone at all; it was some thing.

An Obsidian.

My hand tightened around the hilt of my sword. I couldn’t risk using magic on it. Not when that magic would give me away to any other Obsidians that might be lurking close by.

The air shifted again as the thing crept toward the bedroom. My muscles tensed as I gathered my strength to strike. If my instincts were right, it stood directly on the other side of the flimsy wall between us.

I pictured the soulless creature, calculating its next move—and mine.

Onyx eyes. White teeth sharpened to points. Pale skin, so white it was almost translucent. And the worst breath I’d ever encountered in anyone—dead, alive, or in between. Sonoma claimed their smell was from the dark magic running through their veins—the very magic that kept them animated long after their humanity had been stolen. But my coin was on morning breath.

Either way, the creature would kill me without a shred of hesitation if I let it.

I didn’t bother rounding the open doorway to face it. The monster was counting on that. Instead, I drew my sword and jammed it forward—slicing clean through the sagging wall. The sharpened blade slid easily through the rotting wood, the years of age and neglect softening any resistance. I felt its tip pierce the body on the other side, sinking through flesh and muscle and bone in one powerful thrust.

The creature screamed, tearing itself off my sword in a panic.

Grunting, I stepped back, pulling Dorcha with me. The metal came away stained with blood.

I wrenched the bedroom door open and stepped into the hall in time to see the Obsidian fall. It landed on its knees, clutching at its chest where blood seeped through to stain its worn jacket. As more spilled, it darkened, turning from burgundy to black within seconds. My power thrummed at the sight of it.

The creature balked at me, and I knew its reaction was about more than just laying eyes on its killer. More than being bested by a female, even. By now, I understood very well what the cursed monster saw in me. What its mind didn’t want to accept as it struggled against the pain.

I was Summer Court fae.

No, more than that. I was its lost princess. Valuable above anything else it might’ve found while scavenging this deserted slip of land.

“You’re… her,” the creature rasped as it fell onto its back with a grunt. “Princess Aurelia of Sevanwinds, the forgotten one.”

I knelt beside it, ignoring its sputtering, and snatched the crooked blade out of its limp hand. The scent of a long-dead animal wafted from the dried blood coating the steel. Gross. Setting the weapon aside, I ripped a section of its tunic free and pressed it to the wound in its stomach. Blood immediately saturated the fabric.

Shit.

“How does it work?” I demanded.

Blood leaked from its mouth as it stared up at me from its back.

I pressed harder, knowing it was futile to try and prolong the inevitable. But I needed information. And I wouldn’t get another chance like this again. “Tell me how it works, and I’ll find you a healer,” I said.

“How does what work?”

The creature had the voice and look of a fae male. But he was much more than that. A cloying sense of magic, dark and twisty, clung to him. It leaked out along with his black blood, calling out to the death magic inside me. The darkness inside me was hungry—and impatient.

“Her magic. Her control over you,” I snarled, leaning harder on the wound as blood continued to leak out around my hands. “Tell me how to break her spells.”

He paled, and I knew he was bleeding out—faster than I liked, considering all the questions I wanted to ask. That wall had been softer than I’d anticipated.

“You cannot defeat her.”

“Tell me,” I hissed. “Or tell me how to break her wards in the north. How to get to her.”

“She is … untouchable,” he said, his words no more than a gurgle as more blood ran from his mouth and leaked out onto his chin.

Seven Hels.

“Tell me anyway.”

“She sees things,” he said, his voice strained from the obvious pain. “Things the darkness is afraid of.” The Obsidian gagged.

“What else does she see?” I demanded, urgency driving me to shake his shoulders. To keep him alive long enough to hear his answers.

“She sees you … allied with the prince—and she sees her own destruction.”

My mouth went dry. “What? How? What do you mean?”

His eyes rolled backward as he gasped for air through lungs now drowning in fluid.

“Wait. I’ll find a healer,” I said.

“Just…let me go.” His eyes turned pleading. “Please. Let it be over.”

The life force leaking out of him clawed at my ankles.

My power whispered to take what was offered like I’d done so many years ago in that forest. Before I could stop myself, I inhaled, drinking it in.

My power thrummed, expanding as it fed.

My vision sharpened. My awareness amplified. Every cell in my body was focused on my meal.

“What does the prince have to do with Heliconia’s destruction?” I asked, breathless with the effects of the power I’d consumed.

The Obsidian sputtered, but no words came. Only blood. And its leaking, fraying life force. Frustration gripped me.

“By the Fates. What good are you when you speak in fucking riddles?” I dropped my sword and grabbed his collar, yanking his head off the floor. “Tell me how to break this damned curse!”

But he was already dead, his onyx eyes lifeless and staring emptily past me. Muttering curses, I released him and watched his head thud against the floor.

The remnants of his life force ribboned through the air, weaker now, slower. No longer a temptation. Just like he was no longer a source of information.

Sonoma was going to lecture me again.

Another Obsidian dead without the information we so desperately needed.

“Do you not understand the meaning of interrogation?” she’d demanded of me last time.

“Dammit,” I muttered and grabbed my sword as I climbed slowly to my feet.

Outside the farmhouse, leaves rustled.

I almost believed it to be nothing more than a breeze, but something in my chest tightened. My heightened senses went on high alert. I crept toward the still-open front door and raised my sword. No other sound came, but I knew I wasn’t alone as certainly as I’d known when the Obsidian arrived. My heart pounded at the thought of another one lurking.

Good because it gave me another shot at answers. Bad because the more Obsidians that found me, the higher the chance that one would escape and report to her .

Outside, the land seemed to hold its breath.

The trees had stilled unnaturally, and a shiver crept up my spine.

I didn’t let myself overthink it. Gripping my sword, I whirled onto the sagging front porch, careful to avoid the rotted wood I’d seen earlier.

A male stood in the grass near the barn.

Broad shoulders. Long cloak, its hem flapping in the crisp wind. Hair tousled. Wild. Eyes dark but not like the onyx of the enemy.

Not an Obsidian.

Fae.

His eyes roiled as if a storm raged inside them. Recognition slammed into me.

Rydian .

The male from the lamplight party. The one who’d insulted me then flirted with me shamelessly right in front of my parents. And my fiancé.

I’d never forgotten him. Couldn’t have even if I’d wanted to, thanks to the dreams that haunted me still. His ruggedly handsome face. His wild eyes full of secrets. And that voice that seemed to burrow beneath my skin, touching me everywhere. He’d infuriated me and then slipped away as if he’d never been there at all.

In my loneliest moments—and my drunkest—all my fantasies were full of him.

And now he was here.

Despite the time that had passed since that night, he looked the same, right down to the charcoal tunic that gave no hint of the court he belonged to and the same angry set of his jaw.

The wind rustled, the hissing of the tall grass pulling me from my inspection. I blinked, scowling at myself for focusing on his good looks rather than assessing him as a threat. Whatever he was doing out here, it couldn’t be a coincidence. The area was too remote.

Sure enough, he shifted his body, and I caught sight of a blade in his hand. He’d tucked it behind him earlier but now let it flash into sight as he took a step toward me.

“You killed it,” he said, his deep voice scraping over my skin like it had all those years ago.

Despite his accusation, pleasure rippled through me at the sound of his voice. I shoved it aside. He didn’t seem surprised to find me alive. I needed to tread carefully. “Killed what?”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing out here, Princess?”

I made myself shrug. “Passing through. Like you.”

He studied me. My heart hammered so loudly I was sure he could hear it from where he stood .

“The Broadlands are dangerous,” he said, and the tone made it clear which danger I should be focused on just now.

My gaze flicked to the blade he held. “I can handle myself,” I said, tightening my grip on my sword.

He snorted. “There are worse things than Obsidians in the Broadlands.”

“Things like you?” I taunted.

His brow lifted. “Did you kill the female too?”

“What?” It took me a moment to understand who he meant. Then confusion became outrage. The healer. Did he really think me capable of such a thing? “Of course not. She was an innocent.” After a beat, I demanded, “Did you?”

He snorted as if the idea were preposterous. “He thinks you’re dead, you know.”

The way he flitted from subject to subject was exhausting. Or maybe I was out of practice when it came to conversation. “Who?”

“You know who. Tell me, what’s it like to be a coward and a liar?”

Indignation rose swift and hot inside me. “Excuse me?”

“I will not excuse any of it. Nor will I be the one to explain how you’re alive and wandering around, killing Obsidians, while your broken alliance with Autumn causes their suffering.”

I stiffened. “I’m not sure what you think you know about me, but?—”

“Spare me,” he said wryly—and then in a hard voice, “I’m not the one who deserves an explanation, Princess. But don’t worry, you can tell him yourself soon enough.”

“I’ll pass,” I said flatly.

My heart raced, though. Who did he mean? Callan? The Autumn king himself? Or some other male who felt entitled to an explanation of my survival ?

“Where have you been all this time?” he asked, sounding truly mystified.

For reasons I couldn’t explain, even to myself, some part of me was actually tempted to tell him the truth. The words rose to my lips, ready and almost willing, but I shoved them back down my throat and instead bit out, “Surviving.”

“And is that all you intend to do with your life, Princess? Survive?”

“What I do with my life is none of your business,” I snapped.

“That’s where you’re wrong. This choice you’re hiding from is the business of every fae in this realm. And I, for one, am tired of waiting around for you to make up your mind.” Rydian flashed his teeth—a warning, not a smile—then pushed me back a step with a burst of power. My breath whooshed out of me at the force of it.

I gasped, struggling to refill my lungs.

When I straightened, he stood in the same spot as before, but the power was gone, tucked away where I couldn’t sense it at all. Just like that night at the party.

Once, I’d thought him a simple soldier. One of my father’s warriors.

But his comments made it clear he was loyal to Callan. And that single shove had spoken volumes about what he was capable of.

“You refuse to fight back?” he taunted, eyes glittering in an expression hardened to stone.

Dark flames licked at my palms. I curled my hands shut to keep from giving myself away. Instead, I retreated a step, not stupid enough to turn my back on him but also ready to get the Hel out of this place.

“What are you?” I asked, backing toward the trees.

He smirked. “I’m the thing nightmares fear.”

The moment I reached the cover of the forest, I turned and ran.