A Crown of Cursed Hearts (Kingdom of Blighted Thorns #3)

47. Tempest

47

TEMPEST

A s the door slipped closed behind me without making a sound, I moved forward into the darkness. My rough breathing echoed in the thin, dry air, and my heartbeat thrummed a steady beat in my ears.

A small glow erupted ahead of me, and I moved toward it, stopping when I reached the polished stone spire almost topped with a small glass dome. Lights flickered within the dome’s depths, as if every star in the sky had been captured and trapped inside.

See. Decide.

The words echoed in the room—in my mind.

I leaned close enough my breath misted across the top of the glass, but I saw nothing but the stars and a world beyond my reach.

Lifting my hands, I held my splayed palms over the dome before I lowered them to cup it much like a loving parent might hold the face of a precious child.

The dome sucked me in.

“Take her,” a woman cried, tugging a small girl— me —out from behind her skirts and pushing me forward. “Hide her. Please.”

Whimpering, I looked up at my mother. “Mama? I’m scared.”

She stroked the top of my head and across my nape. “It’s alright, Brenna. I promise you’ll be safe.”

Brenna. Me. A memory, then.

“I know where to take her,” Aunt Vera said firmly.

“Will she be safe? Tell me, please,” my mother said.

I stared at my mother, seeing her for the very first time as me, the adult who’d believed she was never loved, that she was abandoned. She was pretty, but harsh lines had been etched into her face.

The loss of my father and fear for me and my sister had scarred her.

“I see many things,” Vera said sadly. “Too many that might or might not come true. But there is one path that’s thin and winding. Once stepped upon, it will bring her the joy of a lifetime.”

“Yes,” Mama croaked, tears falling from her eyes, droplets of sorrow for what she must know was coming. “Take her as close as you can to the start of that path.”

Aunt Vera tightened her spine. “First, the mark must be removed.”

Mother gasped but nodded, her tears flowing faster. “How can we hide it? It’s her heritage, the mark that makes her Lydel.” She lifted my dress, exposing my left thigh holding the symbol of Lydel Court. I’d asked about it once and was told I was born with it. All Lydels were.

“He’ll find her as long as she bears it,” Vera said.

“Layla?” I asked, missing my little sister. She always played with me, and we loved to hug. “Where’s my Layla?”

“As safe as she can be, child,” Vera said softly, rubbing my back. “We must do something, little one, and I’m so, so, sorry, but it will hurt and . . .” She looked up at my mother. “It must be done, though this will also mark her for a lifetime. She will bear this with pain and sorrow forever. And once it’s done, we cannot soothe it.”

“Why not?” Mama barked, reeling away from Aunt Vera. “I can’t bear for her to suffer. We must lull her until it fully heals.”

“She needs the pain to strengthen her will.”

“That’s horrible.” Mama stiffened. “My daughter has the will of her father and the strength of her mother. We don’t need to brutalize her to ensure she is molded into the woman she must be.”

“If we don’t let her heal as the fates will, there’s a good chance she won’t choose the right path,” Vera said. “I’m sorry. I’ll do it. I can live with knowing I’ve done such a terrible thing, while you, my lovely niece, will be broken.”

“No,” my mother said. “I’m her mother. She’s my beloved daughter. If anyone must, it will be me who does it.” She stooped down in front of me and held my shoulders, her gaze caressing my face as if this was the last time she’d see me.

It is .

Who’s speaking in my mind? I asked, but only silence greeted me.

“I’m sorry, little one,” my mother said. “If I could take this burden for you, I would. You’re my precious love, my first baby.” She sniffed and lifted my gown. “Lull her. Please. Even a little for this part alone.”

A wave of Vera’s hand, and my mind stilled. As I was swirled away like fine mist on a morning-drenched meadow, pain seared across my left thigh.

Yes? the voice asked.

“What?” I sniffed and rubbed my leg that I’d cursed at least a billion times. Even now, it ached, the pain jerking through the memory of my mother’s face.

Yes?

“Yes what?” I asked.

Could you allow this if it needed to be done?

If this was my child, could I hurt her? Could I hide her away where she had almost no chance of surviving, where she’d feel rejection and sadness, knowing that one day, she’d have to storm forward and make her fury churn across this land to cleanse it?

“Yes,” I whispered, then stronger. “Yes.”

I was pulled down once more.

“You’ll keep her safe.” Vera’s words wretched through the pain swamping my mind.

“She’s sickly,” a big man said, scowling down at me.

I stood before him with blood trickling down my left leg, the pain of my deep wounds washing over me in heavy waves. So heavy, I knew they would drown me. Suck me down where I’d swim in my blood forever.

“Why would I bother with someone who looks like she’ll die?” he asked.

“I’ll watch out for her. Please.” A thin woman stood behind him, dressed in a long skirt and a simple blouse, wringing her hands. “She could work in the fields, Gerald, and then help me around the house. You know I’ve longed for a daughter forever. And she’s pretty.”

“Looks mean nothing when you’re pulling weeds.” With a huff, he stooped down in front of me, latching onto my shoulders and making me meet his gaze. Frowning, he studied my face, and it was clear from his sneer that he found me lacking. “Can you work hard, girl? I don’t allow laziness.”

Why them? I shouted in my mind, but no one replied.

Biting down on my tongue to keep from crying out from the agony jerking through me, I nodded.

“Alright.” He released me and straightened, taking the bag of coins Aunt Vera held out to him, weighing it with a frown. “Not enough.”

“For the time you’ll have her, it will be.” Vera stroked my hair and tilted my chin gently to guide my eyes to hers. “Trust, love. Believe. And remain strong.”

How could I do anything when pain seared through my leg so badly, I wanted to curl into a ball and whimper?

“When the time is right, you’ll know what to do.” Bending down, Vera grabbed my forearms and stared into my eyes. My mind floated and . . .

I pulled away from a gray-haired woman I’d never seen before in my life, yelping when my left thigh burned from the movement.

A blink and the woman I felt I should know, but didn’t, disappeared.

“Well, get to work,” my father said with a heavy sigh. After giving me a lingering look, my mother went inside the rickety house. He took my hand and dragged me around the building and over to a ragged field behind, where he stooped down and pointed at a scruffy plant. “See this? It’s a weed. I want you to pull every one of them from this field. No dinner or rest for you until you do.”

“I will.” My little girl voice wavered, crushed with the tears I didn’t dare release. “I will.”

“What’s your name, girl?” he asked.

Name? I frowned. “I don’t know.”

If he was my father, why didn’t he know it already?

“Alright, then, we’ll find one for you,” he said. “Ask her, and she’ll give you one.”

Tempest. My mama told me my name was Tempest.

“Work, girl.” He turned and strode toward the house.

As I bent forward and started pulling weeds, my leg screamed and blood trickled across my thigh, wicked up by my coarse dress.

Yes? the voice asked.

Could I leave a small, wounded child in a place like this?

Vera could foretell, so . . .

“Yes,” I whispered.

Aunt Vera cast a spell on me to keep me from remembering—to protect me. It had always been about keeping me safe, never about abandoning me to whatever the fates had in store.

I was pulled from this scene and into another.

My father and mother lay bleeding in front of our home while dregs stomped around us.

“Grab her,” a woman dressed in a black tunic and pants cried out shrilly. She landed a fearsome deep green beast nearby and leaped off its back, running toward me with a sword in her hand and blood trickling down her face. “Come with me, child. Please.”

When she stretched out her hand, I took it.

Agony lanced through my thigh as she hurried me to the enormous creature with wings as wide as the building I called home. With a muffled growl, it shot fire at the lumbering creatures who’d just killed Father and the mama who’d stroke my brow until I could fall asleep through the pain in my thigh.

I gaped at the beast. A dragon. Someone I once knew used to ride them but his had dark red scales. He told me one day, he’d let me pick a dragon for myself, that I could be a fearsome rider like him.

I think he did. Maybe it was just a story told by my mama.

The leather-clad woman scooped me up and tossed me onto the furious dragon’s back. I bit back my shriek as agony blasted through my leg. It started bleeding again. Would it ever stop? Father had scolded me for making a mess on the floor. Mother applied salve and told me it would get better.

The dragon rider leaped up behind me and wrapped her arm around my waist. “Hold on, child. You’re safe. I’m sorry about your parents. ”

Parents? I frowned but couldn’t remember much about who I was or why I could no longer feel sadness for the poor people lying dead on the ground. The ferocious beasts who’d attacked them were scary. Mama had shoved me behind her, and when the snarling creature slashed out with its claws, she’d cried out and fallen on top of me.

When I crawled out from beneath her, sobbing, this dragon rider flew toward me.

The rider nudged her heels against the dragon’s side and the mighty creature burst from the ground, flapping its wings and soaring above the small village near my home. I didn’t remember visiting it, though I must’ve.

The dragon shot higher into the sky and despite the pain in my leg, I gazed about wildly as the wind flinging my long hair out behind me. My belly dropped away, gobbled up by both fear and stunned amazement.

The mighty beast flew higher until I felt like we could touch the peaks of the nearby mountains. We soared toward them and then down to a huge building that must be a castle. I’d never seen anything this glorious before.

She landed the dragon in front of the big stone structure and carried me over to a man bristling with weapons standing beside a huge door.

“Take her,” she said. “Give her to the healers. She’s bleeding and must be wounded. I think her name is Tempest. I heard the woman call it out before . . .” Her swallow dragged down her throat.

The man nodded and gently took me from the rider.

She gave me a soft smile and stroked my cheek with the tip of her finger. “All the best, little one. They’ll keep you safe here. If I can, I’ll reach out once I’m done and make sure someone’s watching out for you.” With a final touch of her hand across the top of my head, she spun and raced toward the dragon. It took off, soaring down into the valley, aiming for the channels of smoke coiling up into the sky.

I never saw her again, and I soon forgot that she—

Yes? the voice asked.

You’re asking if I’d leave a child at the fortress? I asked in my mind. We often leave them safe with a village. Families take them in. Or at the fortress if no one wants them.

This child. Not any child. Yes?

The rider couldn’t know who I was or what I might one day be. Did the fates guide her?

Yes?

She knew if she left me there, I’d be raised to be a trainer and rider, that I’d probably die in battle.

Yes?

I would’ve been safer in a village far from the border. I would’ve been safer if they’d sent me to a completely different continent.

Yes? the voice growled in my mind. Could you do this?

I could, I said. Yes.

Very well. Remember.

My eyes opened, and I found myself standing in the big open stone room with the dome-topped spire. It throbbed, the stars trapped beneath the glass flinging themselves around, beating against the inside, desperate to escape.

The dome cracked .

Air carrying the scent of roses burst through the fissures, swirling around me. I swore I felt the stroke of a woman’s fingers across my cheek.

Mama.

Feelings so profound and gutting crushed through me, making my entire body ache. My eyes stung, and I wasn’t sure I could bear this endless pain and sorrow.

Remember.

“I will,” I whispered, then louder. “I will!”

The dome shattered and brilliant, glorious power rushed from the center of the spire, blasting up to touch the high ceiling before spiking down to hit me square in the chest.

I shuddered but held my footing as I swallowed it down. It joined what I held in my well, churning and sparkling, and oh, how amazing it felt to reach down and delicately touch the surface now.

Lydel’s core of power had found me worthy.

“Thank you,” I said. “I love you, Mama. I understand, and I forgive you.” As I felt the touch of her hand on my brow, I sobbed, letting the tears fall. They washed away the pain of my childhood and left me weak and born anew.

A blink, and I stood on the rocky outcropping where I’d started, facing the turbulent sea. I spun and limped up the shore, taking the path through the woods that would return me to Lydel.

I was nearly there when my mind cracked open and . . .

Only one person could make me feel this endless, glorious, wonderful emotion .

I came to a shuddering halt and allowed him to completely fill me.

Fury, Vexxion rasped in my mind, his words tendrils caressing my very soul.

My eyes burned fiercely. A smile wavered on my face before growing to a blazing grin.

He was back. My Vexxion was back.

Vexxion, I croaked, staggering. I fell to my knees on the sand and held my face. With my tears, I released all the anguish that had stormed inside me for what felt like three lifetimes.

Fury. My fury, he purred. Where are you, my exquisite love?