The Half-Hearted Queen (The Shattered King #2)

Chapter 1

I never told Renn I loved him.

The fact haunted me as I sat in the hold of a Sestan ship, rocking back and forth on cold ocean waves as I sailed north into our enemy’s heartland.

It sat heavy in my gut as I waited for Adoel Nicosia, king of Sesta, to lose his patience with me and slice my throat.

Though I supposed throwing me overboard would save him the mess.

I’d tried to throw myself overboard already.

I had so little opportunity to act, as Nicosia, who had read my mind to discover I was Rove Castle’s healer, had also used a soulbinding on me.

He wielded two separate forms of craftlock—something that shouldn’t have been possible.

And yet the magic had such a hold on me I couldn’t move more than six feet away from him at any given moment, no matter how I pushed.

Weight and momentum had no effect on one’s soul.

Earlier in the voyage he’d tried to shift my soulbinding. The moment it unclamped, I’d rushed the starboard side of the ship, but three separate Sestan dragons—soldiers—trounced me.

I was far more afraid of them than I was of the sea.

Now I sat in the hold of the massive ship, the wood planks beneath me hard and unpolished, splinters constantly catching my dress and my skin.

The scent of a thousand bodies over endless years of sailing clung to every facet of the woodgrain, along with the sharp aroma of urine from soldiers who couldn’t be bothered to climb up the ladder to the main deck and relieve themselves in the ocean.

Fish, oil, and sweat mixed with my own fear, broken up by the faintest whiff of the sea when it came through the grating in the ceiling—the only exit from this hell.

The grating had lifted, now, letting in ocean breeze and a thick beam of sunlight, better highlighting the half-filled cargo hold, the ropes hanging on the walls, two spare cannons, and now, three monsters staring at me.

Don’t let them see your fear, I reminded myself. Though surely the dog could smell it.

The mastiff growled as I met its eyes. It was a burly, overmuscled creature with an underbite and pigeoned feet, incredibly well trained.

Again, no matter how hard I pulled on the binding, the dog didn’t budge.

If the anchor in the magic came down to the weight of souls, mine was apparently lacking.

The second beast was a Sestan dragon, also overly muscled and with an underbite. He couldn’t care less about me. He lingered by the ladder in sunlight I hadn’t touched for days, hand on the hilt of a dagger in case I proved feral. Much longer in this hold, and I would be.

But the worst of them crouched right in front of me. Eyes cold as ice, chin sharp and spotted with black facial hair matching that slicked back on his head. Fur lined King Adoel Nicosia’s cloak and the tops of his boots, because the farther north we sailed, the colder it became.

Give me Rove’s dungeon. Give me the end of Prince Adrinn’s knife, or Queen Winvrin’s ire. Give me a hard winter and dead beehives. Anything but him.

If the gods heard my pleas for help, they did not answer.

“You’ve had a little time to think.” The king’s Sestan accent curled sweet as honeycomb, the tassels of his violet cincture brushing the floor. “Would you like to talk?”

I had plenty of things I’d like to tell the king, but I kept them to myself. The one gift Queen Winvrin had bestowed upon me was a better ability to stay silent.

I stared at the mastiff, preferring its gaze.

The king couldn’t read my mind further, as I’d built a wall in my lumis, around the entirety of it, back in Speth.

I’d built it of ethereal basalt, dark and thick.

I was no mindreader, but the mind was part of the body, and the body was the lumis.

I’d taken a shot in the dark, and so far, it seemed to be paying off, blocking him from reading my past, my present, and my secrets.

King Nicosia had seen the wall, because in addition to using soulbinding and mindreading, he was, somehow, also a healer.

“I don’t think he’ll hurt you,” Ursa, my dead sister, murmured from within the same space. “He needs you too much.”

I tried to dowse on myself, to further strengthen that wall in my lumis as I had done again and again during the long hours of this endless journey, but the king’s hand whipped out and grabbed my chin, forcing me to stay present, to look at him.

I’d rather touch a snake.

“None of that.” The honey slipped from his voice. “Are you truly so loyal to the dead? I am your king now, Nym Tallowax. Your loyalty belongs to me.”

I inhaled sharply through my nose as a sudden pain rang out from my upper arm, like something had struck me.

Set my jaw. Another phantom pain? King Nicosia had made no move against me, nor had his guards or his dog.

I feared I knew its source, but I couldn’t think of that now.

Even with the wall, I feared dwelling on anything that would give this bastard what he wanted.

He’d been hounding me for answers for seven days.

Eight days since I healed Renn. Since I gave him half my heart and rebuilt his lumis into something even I, so familiar with it, could never have imagined.

Seven days since Renn burned with light, since Sten called him gods-touched.

Seven days since I met King Nicosia. Since he learned who I was and abducted me.

Six since I’d been dragged onto this ship.

How much longer until the King of Dragons lost interest and killed me? Would he do it quickly, or slowly? Despite the chill, a new bead of sweat ran down the dip of my spine.

Adoel Nicosia frowned. “You try my patience—”

“Where is Princess Eden?” My voice crackled as it passed my lips, I’d used it so little. Even communicating with Ursa, I never spoke above a whisper.

His expression didn’t change. “Whatever do you mean?”

I glared at him before moving my vision, again, to the mastiff.

It looked at me like I was dinner. I’d never seen such hatred in an animal before.

I dug deep, past the fear and anguish, to anger.

It was so much easier to be angry. “If you want me to cooperate, Your Majesty, then perhaps you should do the same.”

Perhaps Queen Winvrin hadn’t schooled me as well as I thought. And now her head rotted on a pike at Rove Castle.

But I knew Princess Eden had embarked on this same ship. I’d glimpsed her on the deck, before they dragged me into the hold. Kari, a brothel owner in Rove, had told me she’d been captured. I feared for her, for what they might do to her, and yet I found myself relieved she was alive.

Renn, too, lived. I . . . felt him. Even now, I felt him. I felt him between the hard beats of my weak heart and in the pain still radiating from my arm. And that was something King Nicosia could never, ever know.

He sighed. “She is well, of course. She is a guest on this ship.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help it.

“Be careful, Nym,” Ursa warned.

But Nicosia pressed. “And what is the dear princess to you?”

I shook my head. “She is my queen, now. I live to serve her.”

He chuckled. “For someone who lived in the castle, you misunderstand your own laws.”

Oh, I knew them. Princess Eden could only become queen if she married, and even then, only if she wanted the title. Which made Renn king. He became king of the whole of Cansere the night Sestan dragons murdered his father, mother, and brother.

The Sestan king regarded me with curiosity, never taking his foul hand from my face.

Waited a beat before saying, “Sesta is a refuge for people like you. For people like us. I’ll take off your chains and set you free; all I ask is to know how you did it.

I know about the draft for doctors and healers by your late queen.

She even sent requests into Sesta. But no one could heal her decrepit son.

Until you. I want to understand you, Nym.

Do you not see how your knowledge could benefit mankind as a whole? Sestan and Canseren both?”

I bit my tongue. Some freedom I have, bound in the bottom of this ship. But even if I were treated as nobility on this ship, I would say nothing. Not after the brief exchange we’d had in Speth. If I understood anything, it was that King Nicosia could not be trusted.

My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten in three days.

Nicosia didn’t move, but I could taste his magic in the back of my throat.

He was trying to read me, trying to pierce my mind and hear me like he could others.

I’d learned the difference with him, between mindreading and dowsing.

When he listened to my thoughts, his face grew tight, his brow furrowed in concentration, his green eyes sharp.

When he dowsed, his face went slack, his eyes unfocused.

He dug into my mind, and then switched to my lumis, trying to get past my wall.

I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. All three forms of craftlock. Such a thing should have been impossible.

Yet I’d been waiting for this moment. Prepared for it. All craftlock required touch to work, and I’d realized touch worked two ways. This time, without lifting my hands, I let my vision unfocus and dowsed into his lumis, the ethereal space that represented his physical body.

What I saw shocked me.

A great black wall, just like mine. Something felt oddly familiar about it—not visually, not because it matched mine, but—

My connection broke immediately, sending my consciousness crashing back into the hold of the ship. The king had whipped his hand back, breaking our connection.

“None of that, my dear.” He smiled, but his voice cut like a razor. “But thank you kindly for the idea.”