Wrath and warrior, p.1
Wrath & Warrior, page 1
Wrath & Warrior
Curse & Kingdom Season Three
Ember Blackthorn
Copyright ©2022-2023 Ember Blackthorn
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover designed by Cormar Covers
You can contact Ember at ember@emberblackthorn.com
Website: emberblackthorn.com
Contents
A Note From Ember
1. The Hunt for Home
2. The Key
3. On Her Own
4. The Ultimate Prize
5. Delightfully Absurd
6. The Nightmare Stirs
7. The First
8. The Cage Opens
9. The Valley of Secrets
10. Vices
11. Message in a Bottle
12. Wicked Games
13. An Unexpected Offer
14. Precious Instrments
15. Frozen Heart
16. Her Part to Play
17. Indulgences
18. Rituals By Moonlight
19. The Fourth Option
20. His Nightmare and His Light
21. Bad Ideas
22. His Help
23. The Vessel
24. True Power
25. Protecting Its Own
26. Venom
27. The Prince's Bargain
28. An Offer Accepted
29. Fever Dreams
30. Death Wish
31. The Fire and the Fury
32. New Rules
33. The First Mistake
34. A New Alliance
35. The Hunters
36. The Love Potion
37. Enemies and Friends
38. Other Ways
39. A Little Blood Loss
40. An Old Friend
41. Under Her Control
42. The Coronation
43. The King's Vigil
44. Truth & Consequences
45. The Refused Promise
46. A Meeting in the Dark
47. The Watch
48. Crushed
49. Last Chance
50. Hunter and Hunted
51. The Wish
52. The Change
53. At Last
Also by Ember
Acknowledgments
About the Author
A Note From Ember
Curse & Kingdom is an ongoing fantasy romance serial, and this volume holds the complete third season. For the sake of all my lovely readers enjoying this series in book form, I’ve given this volume its own title—Wrath & Warrior—but it’s truly one ongoing story, so make sure you start with the first book.
In the original serial story, the chapters in this volume appeared as Episodes 115-167. To prevent confusion, I’ve renumbered them here as Chapters 1-53. The titles of the episodes/chapters remain the same in both formats, so if you’re switching between the two it should be easy to find your place.
I release new episodes of Curse & Kingdom twice a week on my Patreon page (patreon.com/emberblackthorn), if you wish to follow along with the story in serial form as I write it. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this sensual tale of magic, monsters, love, and longing.
xoxo, Ember
1
The Hunt for Home
ESMER
If I closed my eyes, the morning air almost smelled like hope.
I allowed myself one deep inhale, breathing in the crispness of the breeze and the earthy musk of the horses as our hunting party rode across the dew-kissed valley and away from Cleris.
And then I snorted at my own idiocy. I wasn’t usually this sappy—Marigold must have rubbed off on me.
Still, I had to admit there was something in the air today. For the first time in over a decade, it felt like my life was in my own hands again. I was back in the world where I belonged, beholden to no one but myself. There was a freedom—and yes, a hope—in that.
“Girl!” Lady Fresna barked from the back of her horse, just ahead of mine. “Bring me my scarf!”
I sighed, my brief illusions of freedom once again quashed by reality.
Plastering a complacent smile on my face, I pulled Lady Fresna’s silk scarf from one of my horse’s saddlebags and then trotted forward to hand it to her.
“My lady,” I said, offering it to her.
She snatched it from my hand without even a glance in my direction, then wrapped the fabric around her shoulders with a scowl.
Some of us enjoyed the cool morning air more than others.
We’d set out just before dawn, when the eastern horizon was just blushing pink. There were fifteen total in the party—six members of the Cleris nobility, and nine attendants. Apparently even those lords and ladies who thought themselves worthy of hunting down a legendary phoenix still needed a small army of servants to wait on them hand and foot on their trek through the wilderness.
Some were better than others.
Lord Hassian, the leader of this expedition, had only one attendant—a young man whose primary role appeared to be managing His Lordship’s large collection of weapons and hunting gear. And Lady Noya, the only other noblewoman besides Lady Fresna, had brought no one at all. She carried her own bow and most of her own gear upon her own horse, and though I hadn’t exchanged two words with her, I liked her already.
But I’d been assigned to Lady Fresna. Because apparently the universe had decided I hadn’t suffered enough already.
I wasn’t even sure why Lady Fresna was here, except maybe because she’d gotten caught up in some romanticized notion of the adventure of it all. Her brother, Lord Randolf, was among the party as well, but they hadn’t spoken once since we’d set out, so I doubted she was inspired by any sort of strong familial bond. She couldn’t have been more than twenty, which only made her insistence on calling me ‘Girl’ even more stupid. And she was probably more sheltered than Marigold—without Marigold’s cheerful nature and incessant optimism. We hadn’t even left the valley yet and I had a feeling Lady Fresna was already regretting her decision to join.
Go ahead, I thought silently in her direction. Turn back. It would certainly make this journey easier on me. I wasn’t planning on staying with the hunting party all the way to the end, but I preferred to suffer as little as possible in the meantime. I didn’t mind having to work along the way—better than traveling alone—but if I was going to have to pamper Miss Prissy Pants the entire time I was going to shoot myself.
I let my horse fall back, until I was riding among the rest of the servants again. The sun was well over the horizon now, casting peach-colored light on our backs, but judging by the clouds sweeping in, we’d see rain before the morning was done. We were currently skirting the edge of the valley’s fruit orchards, heading towards the thicker forest where the phoenix was last spotted, and if we were lucky, we’d reach the trees before the sky opened.
“My lord!” one of the other servants called up to Lord Hassian. “Someone else is coming!”
I glanced back over my shoulder towards the palace. There was indeed a rider approaching, though they were little more than a smudge on the green landscape at this point.
“Probably Lord Voth,” Hassian said with a hearty laugh. “I knew that bastard wouldn’t let himself miss out on the fun. Likely overslept, the lazy sap. Keep going—he’ll catch us when he catches us. I wait for no man.”
That drew a round of laughs from the other nobles, including Lady Fresna—though her lips quickly dropped into their usual pout again after.
I couldn’t care less, really. One more noble meant one more person to clean up after in the short term, but otherwise it didn’t affect me much. I was more focused on that delicate, tingling sense of freedom that increased the farther we rode from the palace.
The farther we rode from him.
Because he still had a hold on me. After all this time, after everything I’d been through, Oak still had a fucking hold on me.
Meanwhile, I might as well not even exist to him.
He’d changed. We’d both changed—it was inevitable, after the bullshit we’d been through—but I’d never expected Oak to be so cold towards me. Even if he’d moved on, even if he’d fallen in love with someone else, the Oak I’d known never would have been so heartless. So much of his behavior over the last few weeks had made him a stranger to me.
And still, in other ways, he was exactly the man I remembered. Exactly the man I’d fallen in love with half a lifetime ago.
You’re not supposed to be thinking about him, I reminded myself. That was why I’d had to leave—because as long as I was there, near him, he would continue to have that hold on me. I’d never escape him, never heal enough to rebuild my life once again.
But he wasn’t the only reason I was here, with these people.
I needed to go back to Riversend, where I’d grown up. The hunting expedition would take me most of the way there, and I intended to break away and go the rest of the way on my own once we were in the mountains.
I’d let myself get distracted since returning to Therador, but I could only run from myself for so long. Just the thought of returning to my hometow
Gods above, I had no idea what I was going to do if I didn’t.
“Girl!” Lady Fresna called again. “Bring me my other gloves! These reins are going to give me blisters!”
I rolled my eyes and fished through her things again. I only had enough personal belongings for one saddlebag, so the other pack on my horse was filled with Lady Fresna’s “essentials.” Some of the mountain trails would be too narrow for carts, so most of our supplies were laden on the backs of a handful of pack horses. Everything else was carried by the servants’ mounts.
I fished through Lady Fresna’s things until I found the gloves—a soft leather pair that would be ruined at the first touch of rain. Next to them was a small green bottle.
Emerald Nectar.
Emerald Nectar was far less popular than other varieties of Nectar, primarily because it was syrupy-sweet with a strong anise seed aftertaste. But I’d always appreciated the flavor.
Maybe we have something in common after all, Lady Fresna.
I glanced around, making sure no one was watching me, then plucked the bottle from the bag. I popped out the cork and took a quick but generous swig of the beverage before returning it to the pack.
Just a little pre-payment for all the stupid things I’m going to have to do.
I nudged my horse ahead again as I grabbed the gloves, passing them to Lady Fresna just as the first misty raindrops landed on my skin.
“Ugh!” she whined, glancing up at the sky. “No one warned me we would be getting wet!”
“Your cloak, my lady?” I asked, already unfastening it from the back of my saddle.
She tore the cloak out of my hands, wrapping it quickly around herself and pulling the fur-lined hood up over her long, dark hair. She’d worn her hair down today, for some unknown reason—apparently she was too vain to realize that loose, waist-length locks were not only highly impractical on a hunt but also potentially dangerous—but I had a feeling she wasn’t interested in my two cents.
As I fell back again, I stole another quick sip of the Emerald Nectar.
The rain was already starting to come down harder, and others were beginning to pull their hoods and cloaks tighter around their bodies. At the head of the party, Lord Hassian spurred his horse a little faster, leading the charge to the protective cover of the forest.
I didn’t mind the wet. It was a reminder that somehow, against all odds, I was still alive. The rain smelled different here in Therador than it had in Marigold and Isaac’s world—it was familiar and comforting.
Like home.
But that word—home—felt wrong. I’d thought returning to Therador would feel like coming home, but it hadn’t. I hadn’t belonged in Marigold and Isaac’s world, but now that I was here, I didn’t feel like I truly belonged here anymore, either.
Just get to Riversend, I told myself. Then everything will make sense again. A few days ago, I hadn’t even been sure I wanted to go back there, but now it felt like I had no other choice.
The rain began pouring, pounding down on us, and I finally relented and lifted my hood, if only to keep the water out of my eyes. Behind me, I could hear the wet, heavy hoofbeats of the approaching rider. He’d finally caught up with us. He rode right past all of us servants, and I didn’t even glance at him as he guided his horse up to the front of the group, presumably to speak with Lord Hassian. I just kept my head bowed and my hood tucked close against the rain, and I debated whether or not it was worth stealing another sip of the Emerald Nectar.
Nothing else matters, I told myself. Not the idiocy of the nobles, and certainly not anything—slash anyone—I’d left behind me at the palace. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting back to Riversend, where maybe—if the universe didn’t decide to fuck me over again—I’d finally find home.
2
The Key
MARIGOLD
“He’s gone?” Isaac said. “Where?”
He and I stood just inside the terrace doors of the palace suite I shared with Alastor, watching the rain fall outside. Below, the hillside sloped down from the palace toward the bustling, manicured streets of Cleris, and beyond that, the neat, green rows of the orchards stretched across the valley.
“I don’t know,” I told my friend. “All Talon said was that Octavian left Cleris. And that he probably won’t be back for a few weeks or more. Talon couldn’t—or wouldn’t—tell me any more than that.”
Isaac shrugged. “Well, I can’t say I’m sad to see him go. Not after what he did.”
He was talking about my cheek—which was still swollen and purple where Octavian had punched me two nights ago.
“He didn’t mean to,” I said softly.
Isaac gave me a look. “That’s what they all say, Goldie.”
I didn’t want to get into this again—I’d already heard Isaac’s full opinions on the incident more than once. And I didn’t blame my friend for being pissed and protective. Maybe, if I’d been on the outside looking in, I’d have felt the same way.
But he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen it happen.
I had. I’d seen the look in Octavian’s eyes in the split second before his fist hit my face—seen the flicker of recognition, the alarm. And through the haze of blinding pain that had followed the impact, I’d seen the expression of horror on Octavian’s face. I knew that none of us could judge Octavian for what had happened as deeply as he judged himself.
There was no convincing Isaac of that, though. No chance of forgiveness or understanding from him. Octavian had hit me. And even though I was the one who’d thrown myself in front of that punch and I was the one who’d gotten in the middle of an altercation between Octavian and Alastor, everyone still blamed Octavian.
No one else understands, I thought, reaching up and gingerly pressing my fingers against the tender skin of my cheek. But I did—I knew what it was like to accidentally hurt someone I cared about. One of the first times I’d deliberately tried to use my power, I’d lost control of it and knocked Isaac unconscious. I’d thought I’d killed him. I still carried the horror and shame of that incident in my heart today.
And yes, you could argue that Octavian’s punch wasn’t “accidental,” and that he shouldn’t have attacked his brother in the first place—but in my mind, our two events weren’t so very different.
Still, I hadn’t spoken to Octavian since the night of the feast. Octavian had avoided me, and I’d made no move to remedy that—aside from consult the deathless rose, which had been aggravatingly silent on the matter. And now Octavian was gone, and there was no chance to make things right between us.
“Everyone’s leaving,” Isaac said, with a glumness that suggested he wasn’t thinking about Octavian anymore.
He was thinking about Esmer. We’d said our farewells to her early this morning, before she’d left with the hunting party, and though Isaac had tried to convince her to stay, I’d already made my peace—mostly—with the inevitability of her departure. At least, I couldn’t begrudge my friend the chance to do whatever it took to make herself whole again, however much it pained me to see her go—and to have no idea when and if I’d ever see her again.
Isaac had offered to go with her. But Esmer had just laughed and said that I needed him more. I couldn’t honestly argue with that—and the fact that Isaac hadn’t pushed the issue further meant he couldn’t argue with it, either. So we were both here, and Esmer was off in the world, and we had to find some way to survive without each other.
“So we’re stuck with just the grumpy one now, huh?” Isaac said.
He meant Alastor. Who, yes, had been even grumpier than usual these last two days. To say he was furious at Octavian would have been the understatement of the century.
Alastor had spent most of the last couple days doing damage control with the court, spinning stories to explain away his brother’s wild behavior. I had no idea if anyone was buying them. And I had no idea if he and Octavian had spoken since the incident. Given the fact that Octavian was still alive…probably not. Though I couldn’t help but wonder if some conversation between the brothers was what had driven Octavian to leave.
