The Crown of Oaths and Curses (The Mortal Fates #1)

by J. Bree

I fought to find a new fate for myself, and all that taught me was the futility of my actions. Millions of people die at the hands of the most evil and grotesque of creatures if we step away from what has been decreed for us.

I woke, weeks later, with a scar connecting me to the Fates and ice around my heart. That battle broke the last of my resolve, and I submitted to the fate I was given and began planning my return to the Southern Lands, waiting only as long as it took to be discharged from the Sol Army and convince my loved ones to let me go before I sailed back here.

The trauma I carry from the war is now greater than my fear of my fate, and so no matter how right or noble it is to do as I’ve been instructed, sitting here feels like I’ve failed.

while I’m many things, a mindless, massacring witch is not one of them.

I’ll do as the Fates have asked of me, even marry the Savage Prince, who wishes me a torturous death.

I keep my eyes shut and fall into a meditative state. Though I’m not bleeding my magic into the earth, I can still slowly let it seep from my skin into the stone beneath me. It's a far less efficient way to cycle it, but it isn't detectabl...

Interesting. My assumption of them guarding me to ensure I don’t escape was off. They’re here to protect me.

Tyton only grins at him, holding up a hand that glows. “No one outside the dungeon can hear me, and I wanted the little witch to know that we're protecting her. She owes us for our kind act.” They both turn and look at me, and there's no point hiding that I’m listening. I stare back, but I have nothing to say to either of them, and after another moment, the surly prince claps his brother on the shoulder and leaves,

I'll check on Soren to make sure he hasn't hung himself just to escape his fate and that filthy witch.”

“Why are you giving your magic to the stones, little witch? What do you think they’re going to do to get you out of here?” My eyes snap open and meet his piercing blue gaze.

He doesn't sense only his own magic; he can sense mine, well enough to see exactly what I’m doing here. I study him before I answer him, honest to a fault but knowing he won't believe me.

“A lot of evil has been wrought here, and the earth is begging for help. Why wouldn’t I attempt t...

“Why should you care what the earth wants? Witches want nothing but power.” How very wrong he is. How warped and twisted the truth has become here, thanks to one man's maniacal thirst for power and his drive to change the status quo and wipe out the high fae altogether.

Kharl strayed from the true path of what it means to be a witch, from our place in the world, and he’s led those who follow him away from our traditions.

I choose to give Tyton the easy answer. “I’m a healer. I always have been, and I always will be. While the earth is suffering, I can't sit back and watch it die.”

“I won't deny it, but who am I to question a destiny predetermined.” If I keep saying it, maybe it’ll eventually sting a little less passing my lips.

“I hope you’re thinking straight here, Soren. If the Sol King finds out that we have imprisoned one of his soldiers, we’ll answer to the Seelie Court.

He can read me as easily as a Seer perceives the Fates spread out before them. “There's nothing to be sorry for, Soren. The Fates are cruel and fickle no matter the circumstances. We knew it was a slim chance, but Airlie still wanted to try. This will be our last attempt.” His voice is firm, an argument he’s clearly had with his wife and not one he intends to back down from.

I have no sympathy for my aunt and very little love. The only positive I can find about her is that she's loyal to the true crown, standing up for me and my lineage as vehemently as she would if I were her own child, and it’s enough for me to excuse almost anything my aunt can throw at us.

Our stores could have lasted until midwinter but, after a single night of enduring the court, we’ll be lucky to make it through the end of summer.

And so it will go until the Unseelie Court wants to admit to themselves and each other that we’re in dire straits, or I take the throne and force them to face reality. Whichever comes first.

My uncle is committing treason. This is all too convenient for the witches, to be led safely through the icy plains into the most guarded territory of the kingdom with ease.

if the witches make it there without contest, the devastation will be catastrophic.

Tauron and Tyton spend their days taking turns in watching over me, and I notice how quickly they both devolve into boredom-soaked restlessness. I remain unaffected, my mind kept busy as I feed the earth and listen to all it has to say back to me.

One hundred years since someone gave willingly without expecting anything in return, and my heart bleeds for the land that has been so neglected.

Tyton watches my every move, his magic pressing against me as he monitors what I'm doing, but even as they pass each other like ships in the night, he never passes on this information to Tauron. Neither of them speak to me, but the food does get markedly better, which is good, considering they insist that I eat.

In my past life, I would have ripped the man’s arm off if he tried such a thing, but that’s not my purpose here. Docile and sweet little Rooke from the Ravenswyrd Forest—the girl I left behind—that is who I am now. I’m hiding my Northern Lands self behind compliance to survive this confinement.

I study him carefully from the corner of my eye and, when he senses my attention on him, he shifts his ire to me. “I don't care how bored you are in there, witch, stick to your tinkering with the earth and keep me out of it.”

I'm sure that helped greatly against the Ureen.” I don't like hearing those words out of his mouth, the way that he trivializes the horrors I endured for almost two hundred years, but I’ve had enough time to recover from the Fate War and the devastation of the Ureen to keep my face carefully blank.

I stop just to take a breath, to rein myself back in, because I can feel the panic and hysteria creeping up my chest at the memory. Two centuries of war did nothing to numb me of my fear of them.

You saw one up close.” I saw thousands. Hundreds of thousands, but to say that would reveal too much—it would get too close to a truth I don’t ever want to speak again—and so instead I let the quiet settle over us once more.

Do you think after spending centuries in the Northern Lands, helping to defeat them, that I’d just ignore my fate and risk another tear in the sky? Death at the hands of your Savage Prince is far preferable to me than another war with the Fates. There isn't much I won't do to stop that from happening.”

“That's why you're not worried about what's happening, isn't it? You think this is the path of your fate, and there’s no other option for you.”

“Everything that‘s happening is another step toward my fate. It doesn't matter how poorly the Savage Prince treats me, how long I go without a bath, what little insults the lot of you have for me—we’ll all end up in the same place, regardless. The Savage Prince’s hands are tied—you all know it—but mine are too. The sooner you accept that, the faster we’ll get to where we need to be.”

I’m not so sure they're worth saving, but I know the cost of failure.

In the handful of times I’ve seen him since the port, I’ve done my best not to look too closely at him, meeting his eyes without flinching but never lingering on the breathtaking beauty of him.

Why does my reaction to him only grow stronger, even as my fury becomes an untamable beast?

The Fates are cruel to bind me to this male.

“You stink,” he snarls, and I wait to have some sort of reaction to his words, some shame or embarrassment, and yet I find I'm still numb. I've been hoping that my return would ignite some emotion in me once more, ease away some of the numbness that has taken over my body, and yet I stare back at him with nothing.

I shrug, “If you don't like it, then you should do something about it, because it makes no difference to me.”

I've lost track of how many weeks I've been down here, but I can feel the filth coating my skin. It's not particularly comfortable, and I would like to take a bath and scrub myself raw, but that has nothing to do with the delicate sensibilities of my mate.

The life I left behind dances in the back of my mind, an echo of a time where I knew the love of friends and the respect of fellow soldiers, and the true terror of war and displacement.

The curse lingers around her like a poisonous halo, muddying the air so much that even with all the despair that I feel from the lands, it’s still the strongest presence here. It makes me sick to my stomach.

The compliance irritates me, eats away at the edges of my sanity, proof of the game that she’s playing with us.

Instead, I found out she’s my enemy and the Fates have bound us together regardless of the ruin the witches have wrought upon my kingdom.

The witch’s gaze follows me. I want nothing more than to pluck her eyes out, stop the way she takes in everything like a sponge soaking up every detail around her.

If anything, she looks better than when we first found her. It's not just suspicious, it's frustrating.

The barbs she’s thrown out, always in retaliation, are indignant at the state of the kingdom and the actions of the high fae whom she’s deemed a factor in it.

To ruin her as she’s ruining me.

her feet planted squarely on the rug as though this is nothing to her. Whatever training the Sol King puts his soldiers through, it’s gotten her in better condition than even my best males. It makes me rash.