Shard
THE TAINTED ACCORDS: NOVELLA FOUR
Kelly St. Clare
Contents
About Kelly St. Clare
The Tainted Accords
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Books by Kelly St. Clare
Immortal Plunder
Thank You For Reading
Have You Enjoyed This Book?
Copyright 2019 by Kelly St. Clare
First Published: January 14th, 2019
Publisher: Kelly St. Clare
The right of Kelly St. Clare to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.kellystclare.com
About Kelly St. Clare
When Kelly St Clare is not reading or writing, she is lost in her latest reverie. Books have always been magical and mysterious to her. One day she decided to unravel this mystery and began writing.
Her works include The Tainted Accords, The After Trilogy, and her co-authored series, The Darkest Drae.
A New Zealander in origin and in heart, Kelly currently resides in Australia with her ginger-haired husband, a great group of friends, and some huntsman spiders who love to come inside when it rains. Their love is not returned.
Visit her online at
www.kellystclare.com
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The Tainted Accords
Chapter One
Shard sat beside the queen—formerly Frost, formerly Willow, formerly a lot of things—as he listened to Roscoe rattle off the order of proceedings for the Interworld Games.
“The fighters and courts from the Ire and Osolis are arriving as we speak, along with their allotted audience members. The welcome ceremony takes place tonight, with a day for the fighters to rest before the first matches take place in the Dome.”
Lina’s baby gurgled, kicking for all it was worth. On cue, all the advisors in the room turned to stare at the queen and, more specifically, the wriggling six-month-old bundle in her arms.
“She’s hungry?” King Jovan asked, leaning over from his seat to stroke his infant daughter’s cheek.
The queen smiled at him. “Kendra is always hungry.”
The men in the chamber chortled, and Shard did the same for a different reason. The birth of the princess had rendered the entire castle and maybe the entirety of Glacium into a gooey mess. Partially because she was named after Kedrick and partially because she was the perfect mix of her parents, whom the people adored. Shard had an inkling Kendra’s thigh rolls had something to do with why he’d turned into a cooing version of his prior self. Why were babies’ thigh rolls so cute?
He blinked and leaned back, clearing his throat.
The fierce longing that filled him at the sight of Kendra, Lina, and Jovan was beginning to make him maudlin. Truth was he wanted a child of his own. More than one. As many as his future wife would give him. He even knew who the mother would be.
Except for the last year and a half, she’d shown no sign of returning his blatant regard.
She was great at showing everyone else affection—and then some.
He’d tried to be patient—knowing the pressures and expectations of her family—but Shard was at his wit’s end. Was she not attracted to him? He was shorter than the average Bruma male. Did that put her off? Was his position as advisor to the king and queen not good enough? Probably not. For a year and a half he’d believed her hesitation to be born of fear and the effect of her social grooming. Now, after eighteen months on the receiving end of teasing and torture, doubt was taking the forefront.
In twenty-seven years, he’d never loved another. From the first time he saw her, Shard felt the shift within him. He knew, irrevocably, that he’d found the partner of his life.
“I can hear you thinking from here,” Lina said in a low voice. She freed one of her breasts from her wrap-around maternity tunic to quiet her kicking babe, whose gurgles had turned to demanding squawks.
Shard absently watched her breastfeed Kendra, half an ear on Roscoe’s rattling instructions. “You know me. Just overthinking everything.”
The ghost of a smile curved her full lips. For all the horrors of her past with her own mother, Shard’s friend had taken to juggling motherhood and queendom like a natural. Jovan had managed to keep her confined to the royal suite for only a day after the birth of their daughter before she started sneaking out to attend meetings. Six months on and the queen intended to compete in the Interworld Games despite the king’s every attempt to persuade her otherwise.
He’d lose. Everyone knew it but the king himself.
“Still nothing from her?” Lina asked.
He sighed inwardly at her neutral tone—the tone she used when she disapproved of something. She’d made no secret of her thoughts on his choice and had maintained a stoic silence each time he tried to correct her judgment. Only his friendship with Avalanche rivalled the queen’s closeness to Shard, yet Lina’s casual dismissal of the woman he’d chosen was a sore point between them. At least on his side.
“Nothing,” he replied in the same tone. “I must be courting her wrong or something. I don’t know. I thought she needed time and patience—and to trust me. But I’m beginning to think she just doesn’t want me.”
The queen reached out a hand, taking his. “You should never feel that way in a relationship.”
“That’s the problem. It’s not a relationship. She knows how I feel and that’s all.” His feelings just hung between them, making him feel like a lost puppy she’d choose to either kick or let in the house.
Lina winced and let his hand go to wrest her daughter’s fist away from her breast.
“I don’t understand how their nails can be so small but so sharp,” she said, staring down at Kendra.
He smiled tightly. One of the rare times he smiled out of obligation rather than regard.
But Shard was letting his personal life enter the meeting chamber, and that was something he always did his best to avoid.
Focusing, he listened to the rest of Roscoe’s report.
The last nine months had been a whirlwind of preparations, and the Interworld Games had been met with enthusiasm. All three worlds possessed something in common. Competitiveness. The first games would take place in the Dome on Glacium, simply because the other two worlds had nowhere adequate to host the event.
Shard had been many things in his life—son of a whorehound, thief, friend, protector, and advisor—but he’d been a pit fighter for over eight years and the thrill of a tournament was just as exciting for him as everyone else, even if he wouldn’t be fighting. Jovan had requested that Shard protect his queen and child during the games. Shard was an advisor now, and that came with different responsibilities. Still, he’d vastly enjoy witnessing the fights between the king and queen, Landon, Rhone,
and most of his old team from Alzona’s Barracks.
“Ash,” Jovan said. “How is security around the castle and the Dome?”
Prince Ashawn regarded his elder brother with the seriousness he only displayed in this chamber. “We have sentries throughout the Inner and Middle Rings and double the force around the castle and Dome. There haven’t been any reported attacks on incoming soars in four months. Our intel reports that everything is calm in the Outer Rings. They look forward to the games as much as we do. I don’t expect trouble.”
Shard tapped a finger on his armrest in the thoughtful wake of Ashawn’s report. “Moving the pit fights to the Dome in the last few months was a good choice. Also, including the best pit fighters on our own team has gained much favor with the Outer Rings.”
“And so they should have fighters on the Glacium team if they are good enough,” Lina said, her blue eyes blazing.
Jovan rested a hand atop hers. “I agree, my queen.”
“Now you agree,” she muttered, hoisting Kendra up and patting her back.
The king and queen glared at each other and then grinned.
Shard’s stomach twisted. That was what he wanted. Not the same, but a love that was unique to him and the woman he loved. He could see exactly how things would be between them if she’d just let him in. What did he need to do? Because clearly his current efforts weren’t enough.
What did Arla want from him?
Chapter Two
One year earlier.
Shard exited his chamber on the second floor and glanced each way down the hall before releasing his grip on his concealed dagger. Old habits died hard and slow. Really, there was no reason to stop being careful though he lived in the castle. Even advisors had enemies. Especially advisors from the Outer Rings. And he expected that his fellow Bruma on the king’s council made up the bulk of his ‘watch your back’ list.
Lina and King Jovan were now married and expecting a child—the war over. Shard had resided in the castle for months.
And yet the place still didn’t feel like home.
A curtain of blonde hair caught his attention and heat rippled through his chest at the sight of Arla sitting on the window seat at the far end of the hall.
Beautiful.
He’d thought it upon first meeting her, and his opinion hadn’t changed for knowing her. Now, she was just beautiful and mysterious. A puzzle he couldn’t crack.
His feet carried him toward her, and he let them, feeling the customary mixture of excitement and nerves.
“Arla.” He greeted her, bowing slightly. “Dinner has begun. Are you coming?”
She didn’t turn. “No. Not tonight.”
Her voice was thick. Whatever she was, Arla wasn’t shy.
“. . . Are you okay?” he ventured. “Do you need help?”
“Go away, Shard,” she snapped, pivoting on the window seat to face him.
The words stung. They always did. But Shard saw in her what no one else bothered to see. He saw a hurt little girl who had grown into a hurt, angry woman.
Shard sat beside her and dug into his pocket, offering her a clean wad of cloth he kept handy in case his daggers got bloodied.
She snatched the cloth away and dabbed at her eyes in a way that eased every trace of the sting she’d just caused. Arla was a tangle of endless depth—of ice and warmth groomed and buried away by a life spent in the castle; a complex individual he couldn’t quite figure out and knew he never would entirely.
He couldn’t get enough of her.
And he recognized a soul in pain too well to ignore it.
When he’d first entered the castle, Shard might have felt mere infatuation. When she’d slept with Sin that night instead of him, he might have been jealous. But when he overheard her father, Drummond, yelling at her for not securing a marriage proposal from King Jovan yet, Shard began to love her in earnest. People looked at Arla and saw a person who hurt others for no reason. He saw the why: Drummond. Who was a complete idiot. Anyone with eyes could see that the king was courting Frost. Though how Frost knew the king was a story she hadn’t divulged.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, studying her intently.
She tossed her hair back and studied him right back. “Can you magically make Prince Ashawn fall in love with me?”
Shard gritted his teeth. Not at the jab Arla had placed in the words, knowing how he felt about her. Drummond must be at her again to make an advantageous marriage. Her father made his fucking blood boil.
“I’ll do nearly anything for you,” he told her. “But helping you fall in love with another man will never be on that list.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re still harping on about all that?”
He splayed his hands wide. “What I feel is real. Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not going anywhere.”
The exasperation faded from her face for a mere second, displaying her vulnerability. Those were the seconds Shard treasured; the moments he told himself that she showed to none other.
Shard hesitated.
He’d never revealed to Arla that he knew her father made such demands of her. His chamber neighbored Drummond’s and the walls were only so thick.
“Arla, is your father pressuring you to pursue the prince?”
She froze, a cool mask slipping into place. Immediately, he knew the question was a mistake.
“What gives you that idea?” Arla said, standing and drawing up to her full height—the perfect match for his own.
He remained sitting, schooling his features as his mind worked. But during their last drunken conversation on the cushions in the food hall, he’d promised that he would always be honest with her. “I’ve overheard Drummond ordering you to pursue Prince Ashawn. And before with King Jovan.”
A deep pink crept into her cheeks and her hands balled into fists. “You listen at the door.”
“No, I—”
“Is that how you know everything about everyone?” she shrieked at him. “You repeat everything to the king and queen. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
For some reason, the assembly had decided Shard was omnipresent. Really, he was just incredibly observant. They would be, too, if they’d spent seventeen years in the company of the worst criminals on Glacium.
Shard sighed heavily.
She placed her hands on both hips. “Sorry, is this conversation boring you?”
Arla was a hurt woman, and she’d learned to cover up her vulnerability in all kinds of ways—from collecting powerful friends like other people collected trinkets, to manipulating her inferiors to make uncomfortable choices. Often as not, she did it by being downright mean.
Knowing that, her childish shoves often lost their intended oomph. “You know that isn’t the case.”
Keen intelligence flashed in her eyes, and fierce attraction struck him. Hard. Normally, when he called her out like this, Arla retreated and settled into conversation with him. Theirs was a battle of the mind, one which had already spanned months, and Shard was determined to win.
But this time, the frantic edge to her gaze had him rising to join her in standing.
“Arla,” he said slowly, raising his hands. “What did your father say to you? Tell me what’s wrong?”
Her lip trembled for a bare second.
Then her scowl was in place. “Nothing, Shard. What gives you the right to question me on such personal matters? We aren’t the same and you appear to have forgotten that. You live in the castle, but you’re not my equal.”
He contemplated her, removing himself from the emotions trying to barge in and cloud his judgment. He hadn’t let emotion dictate his words or actions in a long, long time, and he wasn’t about to start now. “I am an advisor, Arla. Just like your father.”
“My father isn’t the son of a whorehound,” she recited in a dull voice, sitting back down.
Shard studied the deep anger coursing through his chest. “Should a child be judged by the actions of his or her father?”
“The distinction of class should always be preserved,” she answered wearily.
Drummond’s words, if he had to guess.
He wondered if she even realized the thought wasn’t hers. Or maybe it was hers and Shard’s hope had absolutely blinded him to her faults. His brows drew together as he assessed that possibility.
No. With Arla, he wasn’t blind to anything. Shard believed she could be saved; that he could save her.
“I care deeply for you, Arla—” he began.
Arla stamped her foot and shouted, “For fuck’s sake, just stop it already. Why do you keep trying?”
His heart hammered in his chest and he tried to approach her. “Because I see you, Arla. In a way that no one else does.”
She growled at him, jabbing a finger at her chest. “This is me. Stop it with the pathetic chasing and with the pathetic understanding and the pathetic gentleness. If you knew what was good for you, you’d just leave.”
For a moment, Shard couldn’t be sure if one of his daggers had dislodged and slipped beneath his ribs. Doubt flickered deep within him—the first trace he’d felt around her. Normally, the certainty of his feelings and the knowledge they should be together eclipsed everything else.
Shard understood Arla was testing him; reacting in the only way that had worked for her for nearly twenty years.
. . . On some level did she mean what she said?
He hadn’t cried since the night his father and three men raped a woman in the room next door as he pretended to sleep. But Shard wanted to right now. Was that what the woman he loved truly thought of him?
Pathetic?
Shard: A Tainted Accords Novella, 4.8 Page 1