Page 30 of The Cursed and the Broken
Their sons followed around the high walls. First, Napkirály, King of the Sun and rider of his beloved silver-haired horse. Second, Szélkirály, King of the Wind, charged with the winds, rain, and storms. And last, Hadúr, the god of war, also known as the blacksmith god, brilliantly imposing in his copper armour.
Ours was a world divided into three—the Upper, Middle, and Lower realm. The Upper World belonged to the gods, the sun, moon, and stars. Humans and various supernatural creatures like myself populated the Middle World, and below? None but the dead and the undying ventured there.
The brothers and sisters of the Holy Roman Empire would quake in their skirts and habits if they ever saw our pagan halls. Right before they set fire to the walls and burned all witches within it. Such was our blasphemy. The so-called devil’s blood in our veins.
I studied the red carpet running the length of the hall as we walked, the oiled pews in their rigid rows. There weren’t many. We thanked the gods with sacrifices and offerings, and most preferred to send gifts along rivers. Others left them within the woods as far as they dared tread?which was to say, not far at all.
Our coven was a superstitious lot. Fancy that.
We walked on silent feet, padding to an adjacent hall where the council took their meetings. And there he stood. The grizzled wolf himself?though, interestingly, his son was nowhere to be found.
Mama curtsied before him, graceful and elegant. She had dressed for the occasion, brown hair coiled into a coronet, a ruby dress of crushed velvet adorning her slim body. I didn’t miss the pin with a wolf head on her breast. A sign of respect and loyalty. I also didn’t miss the lingering look Farkas spared her.
She was a catch, sure and true.
“May I present Lord Farkas Sándor, chieftain of the Wolfblood Clan, baron of the realm.”
Stone-faced, I filed that morsel away.Baron of the realm?Mama had never mentioned my suitor came from such good stock. His land must be extensive and he was powerful indeed if he had bannermen at his call.
The arrangement of marriage had likely been made years ago—perhaps even approved by my father. It suddenly made more sense. Lord Sándor’s position in office afforded him power, wealth, the ears of the people. I’d be more than comfortable and, of course, Mama and Eszter would be cared for too.
But she had to know that, aside from my family’s wellbeing, these were not things I cared for. Things I didn’t need to be happy. A house, however gilded, was still a cage.
Eyes downturned, Eszter and I curtsied before his lordship. My sister executed hers like she was born to it, yet I stumbled, the wound in my thigh burning with the movement. The grizzled wolf caught me, his cutting gaze like knives upon my flesh.
His eyes raked over my features and I couldn’t tell if he was valuing my worth as a woman or the sum of my person. I said nothing, but I knew my own eyes burned in challenge. In defiance. He only grunted as I stepped away and the good Nora Bárány quickly carried on with introductions.
“My firstborn, Kitarni,” she said swiftly, placing steady hands on my shoulders. “And my youngest, Eszter. You honour us by journeying today, my lord, especially given circumstances of late. Please, take a seat.”
Farkas nodded, swirling a goblet in his hand. “The days deepen with the shadow of dark magic, but rest assured, Nora, the táltosok will stand by your side in hour of need. But let’s not talk of such matters. Today we pledge unity between our families and, beneath the gods, family is above all things, sacred.”
Mama dipped her head demurely. “On that, I can agree wholeheartedly.” Her sharp gaze scanned the room. “Pray tell, where are your sons?”
Eszter and I shared a glance. So there was more than one sprat. A den of pups, then.
“They will be along shortly. I wished to speak with Kitarni first.”
The wolf lord beckoned to a man standing silent and watchful behind him. Broad of chest, with long raven hair and dark eyes. I’d guess he was Farkas’s second in command, judging by the black leathers, the steely gaze of a soldier.
The táltos listened intently as his lordship whispered in his ear, then departed with a polite nod to us women. Farkas took a long sip of his wine, eyes narrowed in thought. “Do you know why your mother and I arranged this courtship, Kitarni?”
“I’ve been asking myself why since Mama told me,” I snapped.
“Kitarni,” Mama hissed in warning.
“It’s all right. I imagine this news must have come as quite a shock. But I want you to know, you will have your every freedom. This marriage does not bind you in any way beyond the oath of matrimony to my son. You will be respected, treated as an equal, protected as one of our own.”
I took a breath, keeping my rising anger in check. “And if I refuse?”
Silence filled the chamber. “You don’t want to do that.” His voice was quiet, but it rang like a belfry all the same.
“And why not?” The words dripped from my tongue.
Farkas looked to my mother, his dark eyes searching. Questioning.
She wilted like a flower bitten by frost and, after a long minute, she nodded, her face stricken. Her eyes met my own, pleading, as if I might cast her aside like unlucky dice on a gambler’s table.
“Kitarni,” she started slowly, “your magic comes from a long line of powerful witchesandtáltosok. Your ancestors were among the first to find their power, long ago when the Middle World was a realm of supernatural beings and humankind were but bairns in a kingdom of magic. We believe you are the only living daughter left in a long lineage and, thus, you are blessed with gifts—the last of that line.”
