A Court of Vipers (A War of Crowns #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Seraphina

The vision came as it always did these days: with the rumble of thunder.

And the promise of death.

Crimson lightning split the heavens. Stars tumbled like silver tears—as if the Lord Himself wept. The ground beneath her feet trembled. Screams echoed in the distance. She smelled blood in the air. She tasted ash on her tongue.

But still, she ran.

She knew the way now as well as she knew the thrum of her own heartbeat.

The wind howled across the blackened sands of this desolate wasteland, like a harbinger heralding the destruction to come.

Narrowing her eyes, Seraphina plunged through the storm toward the one star left upon the horizon—that dark star to which she had first been pulled the day Oracle Tsukiko cursed her with the vision.

The star that led straight to him.

“Aldric!” she called, racing toward the man kneeling on the sands, bowed beneath the weight of the many chains wound about his wrists and ankles. Fresh blood oozed from the countless wounds on his body, soaking his shirt clean through.

Once, she had recoiled from the gruesome sight.

Now, Seraphina sank to her knees before him without a single moment’s hesitation and clawed at the chains. All in vain. There was no end to them. No lock. No key.

He was trapped, and there was nothing at all she could do about it.

“Aldric, please,” she begged, wrenching at his restraints. “Help me.” But he didn’t help. He never did. He didn’t so much as look her way.

He simply spoke.

“Run,” her Crow rasped, his shoulders hunching further against the onslaught of the wind. “You must run, kirei.”

Seraphina shook her head. “Not without you.” She couldn’t leave him behind. Whether she liked it or not, Aldric Hargrave was a part of this. Whatever this was.

She couldn’t give up on him, no matter how many times he gave up on himself.

“Come on!” she screamed, her fingers scrabbling uselessly against the iron binding him. The moments slipped away from her like sand through an hourglass. Soon, her time would be up. Soon, the darkness already blotting out the heavens would sweep their way.

And then it would swallow them whole.

The rattle of chains was the only warning she received before his hand shot out and grasped her throat, strong fingers gripping her just beneath the jaw.

“I said run!” he roared, finally lifting his one-eyed gaze to hers. He tried to intimidate her, this Crow, just as the true Aldric Hargrave liked to do.

She refused to be cowed by either.

Seraphina leaned into the press of his hand and met his dark glare with a quiet defiance of her own. “No,” she bit out. “Not. Without. You.”

Within the reflection of his one good eye, she saw herself yet again—a woman wreathed in a golden fire that sputtered dangerously as the darkness neared.

His grip loosened. His fingers trembled. The rough pad of his thumb suddenly caressed her throat in a way the true Crow never would.

For a moment, Seraphina forgot how to breathe. “What are you doing?”

“Sera…” he whispered, his fingers slipping upward to cup her cheek. Holding her fast. Easing her closer.

No, she wanted to say. They didn’t have time for this. They didn’t have time for anything. Nor was he allowed to call her that name.

But her protest stuck in her throat.

She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t pull away.

All she could do was stare at the man before her—the most dangerous man in all Avirel—who looked at her with such desperation as he breathed, “Your life is worth so much more than mine. Please, kirei. Leave me. He is coming.”

The roar of the wind sought to devour her Crow’s words, leaving her straining to hear him.

Swallowing hard, Seraphina leaned in closer so she could hear more.

Never before had she received any manner of clue as to just what the vision represented.

Never had it given her any inkling as to the danger she was supposed to be facing here.

Beyond darkness, fire, and the end of all things.

“Who?” she asked. Her eyes searched his scarred visage, hunting for any fresh truths that might be housed there. “Who is coming?”

But Aldric didn’t immediately answer.

His attention dropped to her mouth, causing her heart to stop. His hold on her cheek tightened, causing her breath to hitch.

And just as the darkness swept in all around them like a crashing wave, just as it blacked out what was left of the world, Aldric’s voice unfurled from those fathomless shadows on a whisper of, “Death, my kirei.”

His mouth hovered close—dangerously close—threatening a kiss.

Ridiculously, her heart fluttered at the sensation.

She should be crying. She should be mourning.

Avirel was gone. She had failed. Again.

And yet all she felt was a sudden desire to tip her face downward just that much more and feel the Crow of Drakmor crush his mouth against hers. At least then she could know what it felt like to be kissed by him before she died—

Seraphina jolted awake, her heart in her throat, her pulse racing. Moonlight streamed in through her bedroom windows, marking the late hour. Her silken sheets tangled about her legs. Her nightgown clung uncomfortably to her skin.

Beside her, Olivia snorted awake. “What is it?” her friend asked, one of the blades she kept on her at all times—even while in bed—already in her hand. “What’s wrong?”

Seraphina flinched away, warily eyeing the dagger now being waved threateningly.

Ever since the assassination attempt, Olivia had insisted on sleeping in her room to ensure such a thing never happened again.

On any other night, she would have been glad for the company, especially now with her dear usuru, Alyx, officially nesting in the Roost with the other winged serpents at night until warmer weather returned to Elmoria.

But at that moment, she wished she were alone.

Free to have strange dreams about wanting to kiss Aldric Hargrave without having to potentially field prying questions afterward—questions she wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to answer.

“Nothing,” she breathlessly insisted. “I just had a bad dream. Now will you put that thing away before you poke somebody’s eye out? And by somebody, I do mean me.”

Olivia flashed a lopsided grin. The blade disappeared in the next moment. “But just think—if you had an eyepatch, you and the Crow could be a matched set for the wedding.”

While Olivia laughed at her own joke, Seraphina’s stomach twisted itself into knots. The wedding. That was just the day after tomorrow, wasn’t it? Which meant tomorrow was the meeting with her Privy Council.

The meeting in which she would have to pass judgment on the servant found to have left her balcony doors unlocked the night of the assassination attempt, allowing both her Crow and the assassin to enter her room unimpeded.

With a groan, she fell back onto her pillow and covered her face with her hands. Her skin felt flushed. Feverish. Perhaps she was coming down with something. Perhaps she was keeping herself stressed to the point of sickness.

That would certainly explain a great deal.

But who wouldn’t be stressed in her position?

Her country was at war. The Arathian army was nearly at her doorstep.

The Emperor of Lothmeer was still ignoring her calls for aid, and her alliance with Drakmor was shaky at best—completely reliant on Edmund Hargrave remaining oblivious to the fact that she now intended to support his older brother’s claim to the Drakmori throne.

And soon, she would be married to that brother.

The very man who had openly confessed to wanting her dead.

The very man she would soon have to kiss before all of Goldreach.

No wonder she was having nightmares.

As if aware of the sudden turn her thoughts had taken, Olivia drawled, “If you’re looking for sympathy, you won’t find any from me. You brought this on yourself, you know. No one is making you marry the Crow.”

Seraphina swallowed back the hysterical peal of laughter lurking in her throat.

No one was making her?

Dryly, she muttered, “The Lord on High would beg to differ.” He had made His thoughts on the matter perfectly clear with this whole vision business.

But Olivia didn’t care. A part of her wondered if the other woman even believed she was actually experiencing visions sent by the Lord Himself.

Perhaps Olivia thought she was just putting on.

Perhaps Olivia thought she was going mad.

“That man was trying to leave,” her friend hotly reminded her, sending her stomach twisting into knots at the reminder of that day in the throne room. “He offered to set you free. And yet you begged him to stay.”

Begged. The very word left a sour taste in Seraphina’s mouth.

It was the right word, of course, but that didn’t make the memory any less bitter.

Nor did her latest vision in which she actually wanted to kiss the man make it any less alarming.

Pressing her fingers against her eyes as if she could physically shove the vestiges of her dream straight from her thoughts, Seraphina asked, “Are you quite finished abusing me? Because if you are, I would like to go back to sleep now.”

“I’m not trying to abuse you, Sera,” Olivia huffed, a hint of desperation lacing her words. “I just…”

When she trailed off, Seraphina finally lowered her hands, daring to peek that way. But Olivia was no longer looking at her. Her friend stared straight through her, as if deep in thought.

Softer now, Olivia confessed, “I worry about you.” She blinked, and her amber eyes focused again. Her sharp features pinched with visible concern. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Seraphina tried to conjure up a smile, but she was sure it probably looked more like a grimace. As do I, is what she wanted to say. She didn’t, though. She couldn’t. There was no point in worrying Olivia further.

If she did, the other woman might very well start suggesting again that she kill Aldric rather than marry him. But she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t what her God wanted.

Nor was it the right thing to do.

Drawing in a deep breath, Seraphina uttered with all the confidence she could muster, “The Lord knows what He’s doing.”

Olivia shot her a dubious look.

But Seraphina continued anyway, “We must trust in His plan now. We must trust that He is not going to lead us astray. No matter what comes next.”

Letting her eyes finally flutter closed, she willed her heart to slow. Her soul to quiet. Her mind to actually believe the words she was speaking.

She had to believe. She had to trust.

There were no other options available to her.

Elmoria was a ship on the brink of disaster, and she, the hapless captain at its helm.

Only the Lord’s grace could possibly save her and her people now.