Deathmarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 4) Read online

  “I’m sorry,” she said, breaking off the kiss.

  “Tell me what you need and I shall give it to you,” Tarin said, his voice rough. She loved the way he looked at her—all of her. The expression on his porcelain face was so earnest it took her breath away. How is he mine?

  “To talk. I feel as though I’m a lost lamb searching for my flock.”

  “You’re the mightiest lamb I’ve ever laid eyes on. The most beautiful too.”

  “Thank you. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m lost.”

  He cradled her head in the crook of his shoulder. “You’re not lost. Not really. You have me. Archer. Christoff and Jonius and Lisbeth and even Dietrich. We’re all here for you. We await your command.”

  And that was the problem. Everyone expected her to tell them what to do, where to go, who to fight. But what if she didn’t know? What if she needed someone to tell her?

  Ever since her brother, Bane, had murdered her father, it felt as if her enemies had been circling like vulzures, pecking and clawing chunks of her away—her kingdom too. Sometimes from within, like her uncle and the Brotherhood, and other times from without, like the two attacks by the easterners she’d already faced.

  My kingdom. I am the queen. It was a silly reminder, but sometimes she needed to be silly.

  We await your command.

  “Stop being a soldier in the Queen’s Army,” Annise said. Tarin started to object, but she interrupted. “I mean right now. When we are alone. Be my friend, my lover, my soul. Please.”

  Tarin nodded once. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “Of course. My queen.” He chuckled at his own joke.

  Annise knew what she wanted to do, what she had to do—she’d known for a long time. The only reason she hadn’t acted thus far—delaying for the last few weeks—was because she knew it was the opposite of what everyone expected of her.

  Stop being weak.

  “I feel like I’ve been hanging from a branch with one hand for so long. With each battle one of my fingers is peeled away.”

  “What do you have left?”

  “A thumb, Tarin. Just a thumb.”

  “Then I better prepare to catch you, though I fear my armor will not properly cushion your fall.”

  “Very funny. Seriously though, the kingdom is in turmoil, no one is collecting taxes or tracking the royal treasury while I spend coin hand over fist to reconstitute, train and outfit an army, continue to pay the castle staff, and, to make matters worse, rebuild not one but two of the largest cities in the realm, Darrin and Blackstone.”

  Tarin raised an eyebrow. “Sounds bad.”

  “It is bad.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Change the game. Stop treading water and swim.”

  “How?”

  Annise paused, gathering her thoughts. “Before I left for the Hinterlands, I sent a message to Crimea,” she started, finding her words like one might stumble through the dark, one step at a time.

  Tarin propped his head on his hand, quirking an eyebrow. “Trying to reinstate our trade agreement?” His finger absently traced a path between her breasts.

  She quivered, determined to concentrate on the conversation she’d asked for. “Yes, but not only that. I requested aid. I asked for help. We needed allies, and I couldn’t be certain the Sleeping Knights even existed, or if they did, that I would be able to find them. In case I didn’t survive the journey—”

  “You did survive. Beautifully, I might add.” That gentle finger reached her abdomen. Her bellybutton.

  She waved away his compliment, watching him draw molten circles on her skin. No, a figure eight—the symbol for eternity, she thought. “The point is, I wanted the kingdom to survive even if I didn’t.”

  “Of course you did. That’s why you’re the queen this kingdom deserves. But what are you getting at?”

  Annise took Tarin’s hand in hers, warding off the distraction. His fingers felt warm in her grasp. “The Crimeans never responded. I’ve sent three more messages since we retook Castle Hill. Those have gone unanswered too.”

  “Perhaps they’ve withdrawn from the Four Kingdoms for a reason. Maybe it’s too volatile and they fear losing more merchant vessels.”

  Annise gripped his hand harder. “That’s what I thought too. And then this came.” She reached over and plucked a page from her side table. It had been resting face down the entire time. She turned it over to reveal the smeared ink, the bloodstains, the barely legible message:

  The Horde. They come…

  The last word trailed away, the line meandering to the edge and off the page. All the letters were smeared and speckled with crimson drops.

  Tarin ran his fingers over the page. “This could’ve come from anywhere.”

  “But probably not in the Four Kingdoms, because it came via pigeon. The bird was injured, hardly able to fly. The fact that it made it across the Crimean Sea is half a miracle. After delivering the message to the belfry, it dropped dead. Tarin, the only messages we get via birds are from Crimea.”

  “Annise, this could be a threat. Long has Crimea coveted the Four Kingdoms.”

  “I know.”

  They fell into silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Finally, Tarin broke the quiet. “You want to go to Crimea.”

  It wasn’t a question. As usual, Tarin knew her mind as well as she did. She answered anyway. “Yes. If it’s a threat, I want to face it head on, through face to face negotiations. I have nothing to lose at this point. We need trade with the Crimeans to survive, at least until we can rebuild. I will go to Crimea. And I’d like you to come with me.”

  “As you command—”

  “No. Not because I command it. Because you want to. Because you believe in me.”

  Tarin breathed deeply. “I do, on both accounts. But the others…”

  “They can make their own choices. They will not all understand. But this is what I need to do. If there is another threat, whether from the Crimeans or another power, one no one is yet aware of…”

  “The Four Kingdoms will be doomed,” Tarin finished.

  “Crimea is a powerful nation. Defeating them would be no easy feat.”

  “We don’t know that they were defeated. This could all be a misunderstanding.”

  “True. But I must know. There are two other options: Do nothing, guard our borders, rebuild our kingdom. We can do that anyway. We will do that.”

  “And the other option?”

  “Open war. Join Rhea Loren and Gareth Ironclad, our prior enemies, and march on Phanes. Risk more lives in a battle far from our borders. But at least we would have allies again.”

  Tarin nodded. She could see the muscles in his jaw tighten, and sensed the voice in his head. The voice that sometimes spoke in her head too. It wanted war. Wanted blood. “What of the Sleeping Knights?”

  She sighed. Yes, the ancient warriors had saved them, twice now. But they were hard to control, and even with Lisbeth she knew she couldn’t hope to control them now. “They will do as they will. But I must go to Crimea.”

  “Then I will go with you. Even if I’m the only one.”

  Annise smiled, her muscles uncoiling. The stress and strain of days agonizing over this decision fell away.

  Finally, she allowed herself to melt into him. “There is one other thing I need of you.”

  He knew what to do without being told.

  Twenty-Nine

  The Northern Kingdom, Castle Hill

  Lisbeth Lorne

  The Knights were restless, which seemed to be their normal state of being these days.

  Lisbeth watched their souls, most of which were a bright shade of orange, as if hovering between action and inaction. Waiting. For what, she did not know.

  That was a lie. She knew what they wanted. Violence. War. They were a horde set to trample the Four Kingdoms under their trod, until none were left but those in the northern kingdom, who they’d sworn to protect.

/>   They are my army to command, and I failed.

  Lisbeth hated feeling helpless. She remembered the hopelessness as she’d tried to delve into the Knights’ souls, that deep, unending pit that spiraled down down down…

  We must move on, they said, as one.

  No, she said. Not until your queen commands it.

  We do not take orders from you, nor the queen. We only obey that which is for the good of the kingdom.

  As determined by whom?

  Our souls…

  And that was the crux of it. Lisbeth’s power came from her soulmark, but if she couldn’t use it on these Knights…she might as well part ways with them.

  No, she thought, determination coursing through her. You must keep trying. You set them free; they are your responsibility. The blood they spill is your blood too.

  You will sail with the queen to Crimea, Lisbeth commanded. They’d received the news from Queen Annise earlier that day, and she’d been arguing with the Knights ever since.

  No, they said, their wills—their souls—heaped on top of each other, an impenetrable wall. We will march south. Our enemies must fall.

  She couldn’t change their minds, couldn’t bend them to her will—nor the queen’s. But there was another option. Then I shall go with you.

  As you will, they said. It matters not to us.

  Lisbeth didn’t know if she could change the fate of the Four Kingdoms—stop the war that was approaching like a tsunami—but she was determined to try.

  This, she knew, was her true purpose. Not to bring war, but to stop it.

  Thirty

  The Northern Kingdom, Castle Hill

  Annise Gäric

  Three mamoothen had survived the sellswords’ slaughter, including Chantilly, the gentle giant favored by her aunt, though she was lame. One of her large hoofs would never be the same, and she would always walk with a slight limp. Kind of like the north, Annise thought. Injured, but powerful just the same.

  Zelda held out the biggest carrot Annise had ever seen and the beast slurped it from her fingers with its massive pink tongue. Her aunt patted the creature’s rough trunk and began polishing one of its curling tusks with a rag. She did it with one hand, her other arm in a sling, pulled tight against her abdomen. “I’m going to miss this ol’ girl,” Zelda said.

  Annise said, “Auntie, you don’t have to go with us. You’ve been through an ordeal. Take the time to rest and recover. We’ll be back before you know it.”

  “And miss out on all the fun? Unless you command me to stay, I’m coming.” She narrowed her eyes in Annise’s direction and jutted out her broad Gäric jaw, as if daring her to contradict her.

  Tarin snorted.

  Dietrich guffawed, jabbing his sword into a bale of hay.

  Her brother, Archer, was ignoring the conversation completely, rubbing down his favorite black stallion.

  Christoff stood stiffly, uncomfortably.

  Sir Jonius was an ever-present comfort. Though she knew fathomless depths of pain and regret were hidden beneath his stalwart expression, he never wavered, never showed his self-doubt in her presence. Sometimes she wished he would, to show that he was human.

  Annise said, “Very well. We leave for Blackstone on the morrow. A ship will be waiting.” Annise was still surprised by the stream she had received from Knight’s End. Her cousin, Queen Rhea Loren, hadn’t been angered by Annise’s refusal to lend her armies for the attack on Phanes. Instead, she’d wished Annise well on her journey, and even offered her own ship, Wrath’s Chosen, for the voyage across the Crimean Sea. “What say the rest of you?”

  “I go where you go,” Tarin said immediately. Not a surprise, but the certainty of his response still sent warmth through her.

  Sir Jonius said, “I as well, my Queen.” His eyes gave away nothing.

  She nodded, looking at Christoff. “Sir, you have done a great service to the kingdom already. I will understand if you stay to continue your work with your company of soldiers.”

  “If you’ll have me, I will ride with you,” he said. “But I request that I bring several of my soldiers, if it pleases the queen.”

  “Like Private Sheary?” Archer said, finally joining the conversation. He winked at the knight, who turned bright red.

  “She is one of several women I was considering for the mission.”

  “Oh really?” Archer said. “Juggling women, are you? Perhaps I could learn a thing or two from you.”

  Christoff frowned. “I’ve never given much thought to juggling. It seems a rather pointless endeavor. And juggling women—unless they were very small—seems impossible. As for learning from me, your footwork while dueling does require some work, I could help if you—”

  “Sir,” Annise said, cutting him off before the confusing conversation took any other unexpected turns. “It does please me. Feel free to invite Private Sheary along. And I would be honored to have you in my service once more.”

  He bowed, still looking uncomfortable, and then departed.

  Sir Dietrich turned to follow him. “Sir? You have given me no answer,” Annise said.

  He froze, turning slowly to face her, as if she held a sword to his throat. Why does he look so uncomfortable? I’m not even holding a boot to throw at him, although I suppose I could get one off my feet quick enough…

  It dawned on her. “You’re not coming,” she said.

  He looked away. “I…” His eyes returned to hers, certain now. “No. I am staying. Though I understand the reasons for the voyage, I have my own reasons for staying.”

  “Will you march south with the Sleeping Knights?” Lisbeth Lorne had informed her earlier that the Knights were determined to travel south to ‘protect the kingdom from its enemies.’

  “Yes.”

  She was saddened by his decision; though they’d had their ups and downs, she considered him a friend, one of only a few. Still… “I wish you well. May we meet again when we both return to the north.”

  There was something in his expression, in the purse of his lips. “I feel as if I’ve failed you, my queen,” he said. This was a rare occasion where they spoke without one or both of them offering a joke or bit of banter.

  The moment felt important.

  “Sir, you have failed no one in this life, least of all your queen and country.”

  He closed his eyes, his lungs releasing a breath. “Thank you. It has been an honor to serve you. I shall do my best to represent you wherever I go.”

  “I know you will,” she said. “May your arse be protected from flying boots from this day forward.”

  His stone face cracked and he smiled, before saluting and departing the same way Christoff had left.

  Annise turned toward Archer, who’d gone back to caring for the horse. “Brother? What is your decision?”

  He turned and looked at her with that cocksure expression she’d always envied. “Need you ask? I’m with you. To the Hinterlands. To Crimea. Wherever. So long as there are exotic women to meet.”

  She rolled her eyes, but knew her brother well enough to read between the false lightness. He had her back, and she would have his.

  Thirty-One

  The Northern Kingdom, Castle Hill

  Tarin Sheary

  “Have you heard the news?” Tarin asked the blacksmith, watching as she hammered the blade of a red-hot sword. In her element, Fay was a sight, sparks flying around her as her biceps tightened her skin, which was sheened with sweat. Her boy-short hair was beginning to fall to her forehead and Tarin knew she would use a dagger to hack it off soon enough—she wouldn’t want to risk it catching fire. Watching her, he felt something warm inside of him, a kinship with this woman that felt almost blood-based.

  Fay paused for a moment but didn’t look up. After a second, she resumed her hammering, shouting over the ruckus. “About the queen’s voyage? Aye.”

  “And?” Tarin shouted.

  “And what?”

  “Are you coming?”

  Finally, Faye
stopped, lifting the fiery blade with a gloved hand, inspecting its edge. She plunged it into a cool water bath with a hiss.

  Looked at him. “No.”

  “No?”

  “I’m staying here. Castle Hill is my home now. Her Highness is leaving me in charge of weaponry and armor for her army.”

  Tarin raised an eyebrow, feeling silly for not having known. Then again… “What army? She has a few hundred soldiers at most.”

  “And they all need armor and weapons. Plus, more join every day. The people are hearing her call. She has saved them twice now.”

  That was true, Tarin knew. Her entire life it had been Archer who’d been adored by the people, while Annise had been largely ignored. Now, the tables had turned. She deserves their adoration. She deserves the hell-frozen moons. Still, Tarin wasn’t ready to give up that easily. First, traveling on the tundra with her, and then again when encamped in Darrin, he’d learned that Fay had a calming effect on him, the ability to cut through his excuses and anger like no one else could, even Annise.

  “But can’t you delegate to the other blacksmiths in your employ?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I want you to come with us.”

  She sighed. “Tarin, I appreciate you saying that, but you don’t need me anymore. You have your new armor. The Morningstar is in pristine condition. You have Annise again. And I’m still alone, which is fine. I’m better alone.”

  Wait. What? “What are you saying? That you were hoping you and I…” He gestured to his own chest awkwardly.

  She rolled her eyes. “No, you giant fool of a man. You think too highly of yourself. I don’t want any man, not like that anyway.”

  Tarin did feel a fool. Though he’d never felt any kind of a romantic connection between them, he hadn’t realized what she really wanted. Because you never asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, starting to turn back toward the forge.

  “I still think you should come. You can be alone with us.”

  She laughed, half-turning back. He smiled, glad he could still surprise her with his foolishness. She sighed deeply and her smile faltered. “Thank you. Truly,” she said. “But I don’t ever want to set foot in Blackstone again.”