Page 1 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
CHAPTER ONE
STERLING
EIGHT YEARS AGO
Once upon a time, a girl loved her mother more than life itself. They’d lived together in a tiny cottage, always the two of them … until the gods decided they needed something more. Like lightning striking, they bestowed an unexpected gift on their small family. A blessing that turned into a curse, for the baby boy came into the world wailing, only to kill their mother.
Sterling knelt beside her mother’s still body, sobbing as she held her cool, unmoving hand. Her mother hadn’t released a single breath. No smiles. No laughter. No hugs. No anything for nearly fifteen minutes.
“Please, come back, Mama,” Sterling begged, clutching her mother tighter. “I love you.Please.” She didn’t want to leave her, for fear that if she let her go, she would have to face the truth—her mother would never wake.
The gods didn’t answer her prayers. They didn’t allow her mother to rise, to say that it had only been a game to scare Sterling. Her dead eyes stared at the ceiling above as the pool of blood surrounding her mother’s waist seeped deeper into the blankets and mattress, her skin still slick with sweat.
A loud cry pierced the air behind Sterling, breaking the momentary silence—her new baby brother. The infant had released cry after cry from the bassinet in the corner of the room where she’d placed him after his birth, away from her and their mother.
Sterling finally let go of her mother’s hand, knowing she needed to accept the fate given to her. She whirled around and slowly padded toward the crying infant. “Why did you have tocome here? Why did you have to kill her? Mama never wanted another child,” she whispered harshly, her teeth clenched.
The infant’s reply was to cry louder, for food, to be held, to be loved, and she balled her hands into fists, unsure what to do now. Sterling wasn’t helpless, but she was only fourteen years old. Her mother was meant to be here, to hold her son while Sterling pampered them both. Sterling had no real father, and neither did her new brother. Men paid coin for her mother to visit their beds, so anyone in the Bloodstorm Court of Grimm could’ve been their sires.
As her mother had lay dying, her last muttered words were instructions on what to do next. Sterling drew in a deep breath and repeated them, word-for-word to her new brother. “Go to your grandmother’s. Cross through the forest beyond the mountain and past the two rivers. You’ll find her cottage just after the willow trees. She loves you as much as I do, but—”
Death had rattled from her mother’s chest then, and Sterling knew that not hearing the rest would forever torment her.
The infant’s sounds grew frantic, echoing within the cottage, overpowering Sterling’s thoughts. Wiping away her tears, she hovered above her brother and peered down at him. A white, waxy substance and blood covered his wrinkled, light copper skin, his face bright scarlet from screaming. Big emerald eyes stared up at Sterling, like hers, like their mother’s, and her chest tightened at the sight of him. She hadn’t wanted to look at him again, but there was no other choice.
Heaving a sigh, she knelt beside him, then took his small, warm hand into hers. “I’m sorry, Cyan. I lied. Mama did want you. Even though you were unexpected, she wanted you very badly. As soon as she discovered you were growing inside her belly, she loved you. We barely had enough to eat as it was, but it didn’t matter because she’d said she would work harder for us. She picked out your name immediately, told you stories eachnight, and was happy I would have a sibling because she’d never had one.”
Sterling collected a clean blanket beside the bassinet, then scooped up her brother to swaddle him in the wool fabric. For the first time since entering the world, Cyan quieted as he stared up at her.
“I don’t know how I feel about you,” she whispered, cradling him closer, “but for Mama, I promise to take care of you. Always.”
After feeding Cyan goat’s milk and burying her mother behind the cottage, she waited a few days before packing to find her grandmother. If she’d gone alone, she would’ve easily made it there in a day, but with carrying her brother in a basket and their one goat in tow, the journey would take three times as long.
When her grandmother visited, she would always bring desserts and tell her adventurous stories that brought Sterling into a fit of giggles. But she hadn’t seen her grandmother since last winter, after she’d gifted her a bow she had yet to learn how to properly use. This would be the first time Sterling ever visited her home, though, and she worried about taking such a long journey on her own.
Before leaving, she looked toward the sky and cursed the gods for putting her in this predicament. “Since I know you can hear me, please take care of my mother,” she added, then cursed them once more.
She adjusted her bow on her back, lifted the basket with her sleeping brother inside, and tugged on the goat’s rope to get moving.
Sterling’s legs ached after trekking through the forest for two days, her neck stiff from sleeping on the hard ground, and her back ached from carrying her brother. They’d stopped too many times, mostly to get milk from the goat or to rest. Cyan cried more often than he was silent, and she thanked the gods for keeping wild animals from attacking them. If their luck changed, she’d do her best to defend them with the bow.
A soft coo escaped Cyan after he took the last drop of milk and closed his eyes. Sterling carefully rested him in the basket, tucking the blanket around him. She sat back on her heels with a weary sigh just as rustling came from straight ahead. Jerking her head up, she found a rabbit darting from one berried bush to another. Her stomach rumbled at the sight, reminding her she needed to eat too.
“I won’t go too far,” she whispered as the rabbit froze, its nose twitching.
Sterling gently drew an arrow from her quiver and tiptoed two steps closer to the rabbit. She bent her knees slightly while nocking the arrow, eyeing her meal with precision. Breathing steadily through her nose, she released the arrow and … missed.
“Damn it!” She’d have to fill her belly with the berries instead.
Resigned, she inched toward the bushes just as a wolf howled in the distance. Her heart leapt in her chest. Turning on her heel, she rushed back to her brother and the goat.
In Bloodstorm, there were wolves and then there werewolves. Shifters were far worse than any wild animal. They looked the same when they shifted, sounded the same, so there was no telling which one was nearby. At least, not until it was too late.
Sterling nocked another arrow when she reached her brother and the goat. There were also two daggers at her hip that she could use if something got too near. The forest fell silent as she dragged in a steadying breath. She glanced down at Cyan, who slept peacefully in the basket. Maybe she was being unreasonable. The howl was a good distance away, after all. If she hurried, then—
A twig snapped behind her.
She spun around, bow raised, to find a boy, a year or two older than Sterling, standing across from her with his eyebrow arched. He didn’t speak as he curiously scanned her over. The boy stood a head taller than her, his obsidian hair shorn on one side above his ear, and the rest was parted and hung almost to his chin on the other. His bright blue eyes shone like sapphires, and he wore only trousers, his feet bare.
