Song of Sorrows and Fate (The Broken Kingdoms, #9)

by L.J. Andrews

A missive that had been mysteriously placed upon my pillow the night the blood moon returned. Ten turns after the battle lord disappeared. It had appeared the same as those dark roses I’d always found outside my door, or on my pillow. I used one knuckle to swipe away another tear, reading the final line of his note haunted me: Now is the time to restore that bond, lost so many turns ago. You are ready as he said you would be.

There was a truth I didn’t want to face, one I buried beneath fear, heavy enough it might snap my spine if I let it—I wasn’t alone here. I simply hadn’t determined if my ghostly spectral was friend or foe. All I knew was it wanted me.

I’d warned her that whenever fated royals rolled into bed, wars began.

“The end has come to us. Shall we greet the gods, little one, or do you prove whose blood runs in your veins?” “How do you know?” My voice was shrill, desperate, but I didn’t understand. I’d learned the truth of my bloodline ten turns ago, but I’d never told anyone in Raven Row. I didn’t want trouble from the Mad King, or any foolish bastards who thought I had some royal treasury hidden in my tenement. Olaf pointed at the bloody moon. “All tales must come to an end; ours comes now.”

I wasn’t a fool. To seek out the haunting spectral meant my world would change when I came to the other side. I’d told this to my bleeding queens more than once. Follow the nudge of fate, it was bound to upend their worlds. Did they listen? Not a damn one.

I’d always told myself I’d never be the reckless one. I’d never blindly go where my path unfolded. Like a constant thorn in the sides of the Norns, I planned to resist. To refuse.

Some sort of tricky power must’ve soaked the soil of Hus Rose, for I could not recall the last time my pulse was so . . . peaceful. Like returning home to kind words and gentle, loving arms.

In my cell at Castle Ravenspire, I’d always pretended the voice of the whispers in the dark belonged to another being, someone who might understand the burden of using seidr. A friend in the madness. But I’d long ago convinced myself the words were mine alone; the way I’d convinced myself the spectral in Ari’s dream hadn’t existed, not really.

Little Rose. The name was a memory, a past title my heart wanted to love, but my mind wanted to bury beneath fear.

“Every story must end. Ours is fading, and it will not end in our favor.”

“Never forget again.” I couldn’t draw in a deep enough breath when his arm encircled my waist. How could something feel so safe and so dangerous in the same moment? “Don’t forget what?” “That you belong to me.”

imagined the way she’d draw close, as lost in me as I’d become in her. It seemed reality was not like lonely dreams.

This wasn’t how it was meant to be. To her, I was not supposed to be the monster in the dark. Could she not sense the lengths I would go for her? The lengths I had gone?

“Still haven’t thought of his name yet. He deserves to be called something you think of when you take a piss, you know?”

“Sráč. That’s what I call him.” Her full bottom lip slid between her teeth. “That’s old language.” “I am old.” Bleeding gods, for the slightest moment, her eyes brightened more than they feared. “It means shit.” Her face twisted in a strange expression. I considered she might retch, until a frightening sound scraped from the back of her throat. Light, dry as though she could do for a bit of water, and intoxicating. She laughed. Here. In my sights. A laugh that hadn’t been mine for centuries. It was beautiful and grating all in one breath.

Captain Annon had been my last connection to life. He’d delivered my roses. He’d done all he could to guide Calista Ode toward her path. He’d been the last breathing soul to step foot behind the gates, all to see to it I hadn’t descended so far down into the shadows that I couldn’t escape. “Why do you have his likeness here?” Odd question. “It is obvious.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “It isn’t. So explain it to me.” “I missed him.”

“I do not recall you being so dense, Little Rose.” A huff followed. She tried to shirk off my grip. I was stronger. “I’m not dense, you bleeding sod. You’ve said no more than ten words to me, and⁠—” “Then you haven’t been listening,” I interjected. “I have spoken many words to you, for many turns.” “In the shadows. Like a coward.”

“A coward?” My teeth ground together. “Which of us has denied the call to their fated path over and over again? Which of us chooses to unsee the signs of truth?”

“You’ve ignored the call, Little Rose. Forgotten truths. You’ll soon remember it all now that you are here.

She’d be safe here. The Norns might have plans to destroy our world, but they would not touch her again. I’d already survived enough heartbreak when it came to this bleeding woman. I wouldn’t do it again.

The king promised me our bond was fierce and powerful. If it was so, how could she shove it aside and degrade it in such a way? What the hells was the point of all this anguish?

Perhaps I could not twist the tales of fate without her, but I could still bring her to a calm. A talent I’d always had, one I’d give gladly. The more her resistance had grown, the more I’d needed to reach her in the calm moments of her mind, and I’d done it through dreams. Another gift I carried, and the ingenuity behind the Golden King’s dream walk. I didn’t want to dream walk when I could touch her, speak to her, but I would if that was all she’d allow.

Already the shift was beginning. Tenements stood straighter. Rotting laths were peeling back to reveal stone beneath it. She didn’t know what her simple act of walking through the gates had done.

Somehow this piece of my life had been hidden. Why, I didn’t yet know, but planned to find out.

The draw to Silas was undeniable. Almost unbearable now that I’d crossed the threshold of the palace grounds. What had kept me from doing it all this time? More than fear. Much like the other kingdoms, any curiosity of the Mad King faded swiftly if ever thoughts of him slid into my brain. Until now. In this moment, the occupant of Hus Rose consumed my every thought. My every breath. It was as if my heart beat coiled with his, needing his nearness.

He was the fate I’d avoided. Deep inside an ember sparked to life. A piece that had always been there, yet locked in shadows. Moments as this, I detested the tricks of the Norns. If after one interaction this draw toward my phanto...

“Why did you stay hidden from me?” “It was not by choice.” He stiffened. “You are my thoughts that rise with the sun, and my fears that come with the night.” “Your fears?” “Fear that I will wake and you will once more be gone.” “I don’t understand.”

They had to find their paths. It was part of the story. They had to fight, struggle, they had to cleave to their new power for it to grow as strong as it was always meant to be, or it would be easily taken again.”

In his presence, my heart would sing. In his absence, I thought only of how to get free of him.

Where had it gone wrong? I’d kept my promises, done what was asked, and I’d waited. I’d done it, all while the heat of a heart’s song burned brighter and brighter. In her, it had rotted.

In all my misplaced optimism, I’d anticipated for the desire to find me, the damn yearning for the bond, to bleed as fiercely through her as it did me.

I burned, body and blood, for her. Yet my voice caused nothing but fear and apprehension.

Runes of power and joy, of strength and cunning. They’d long ago started to fade, the same as my hope.

We’d tried for nearly three turns for seidr to give me words. Until it was obvious my song flowed with the words of another. Still, it hadn’t stopped the fate king from teaching me to write, to read, to find peace in music. You’ve a gift boy, hone it. Not everything must be about seidr. What makes you sing inside?

What made my heart sing? It was her. Even in childhood, when I’d been mocked by other Rave youth for befriending a silly little girl, she’d been the warmest flame. Calista Ode was my first friend. She took a place in my heart when our souls collided that wretched day.

Never as potent as her daughter, but Queen Anneli had a gift of seeing short distances into a path of fate.

This bond is new and strange. Never have I seen seidr use two souls as one. You must cling to it, Silas. Help her find the way back. Such a bond will live until the Otherworld calls.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Bastard. I rolled my eyes. “I will do as I vowed and keep her safe. But there is no happy ending to this tale.” Then you are not trying hard enough.

those tales came from the same song of seidr.” “How is that possible. They are all different tales, from different fate workers.” I didn’t answer. She was not ready to know the horrible truths of our lives.

“They were my home. Without the queen’s help, I would’ve had long, matted hair to my feet, and clothes with patches. Perhaps no clothes at all. I certainly wouldn’t know it was considerate to wash under the arms.”

“The king did not need to burden his household with an orphan. But he did. When his trusted men told him my gift was dangerous, too odd, he stood for me. He prepared me for what was to come.”

“Why have you been hidden from me? Why did you become my Whisper instead of . . . my Silas?” My Silas.

“What don’t I want to know?” “That you have a place on a fated path.” That you have a place with me.

The tale was at the end, and none of us truly knew what that meant. There was greater danger than there had ever been, and I couldn’t let her face it alone.

Shattered as I was to know she recoiled from me rather than embraced me, she was mine to protect, mine to guide. Mine.

Raven Row looked . . . different. Buildings were straighter, more cobbles lined the muddy roads. There were wider stretches of sturdier walls, and forests that once were dry and sickly were lush and full beyond the main roads.

We were likely going to die trying to defend this miserly town and those wonderful, lust-filled royals I wished I could see once more.

“One last comment you won’t like,” I said. Cuyler groaned in frustration. I tried to keep my voice steady and went on. “I’m glad I won’t go to the Otherworld alone.”

“Fight to the end,” I muttered. A saying offered by my Shadow King often, but it meant more. Oddly enough, it felt like a notion burrowed deep in my bones. Fight to the end of this tale.

Olaf shouted back. “We stand here as we always have, awaiting the call.” What the hells? “You old fool, they will not attack with warm embraces. At the least, grab a damn knife.” “Is that your command?” “To grab a knife?” I spun around. “Do as you please, you fool. I suggest sharp things.”