The Arrows of the Heart

by Jeffe Kennedy

  The Arrows of the Heart

  Uncharted Realms – Book 4

  by

  Jeffe Kennedy

  A STRANGER’S FAITH

  As the Twelve Kingdoms and their allies are drawn toward war, a princess cast aside must discover a purpose she never dreamed of…

  Karyn af Hardie behaved like a proper Dasnarian wife. She acquiesced, she accepted, she submitted. Until her husband gave her a choice: their loveless, unconsummated royal marriage—or her freedom. Karyn chose freedom. But with nowhere to run except into the arms of Dasnaria’s enemies, she wonders if she’s made a mistake. She wants love, security, a family. She can’t imagine finding any of it among the mercurial Tala.

  Worst of all is Zyr. The uninhibited shapeshifter is everywhere she looks. He’s magnetic, relentless, teasing and tempting as if she’s free to take her pleasure where she wishes. As if there isn’t a war rising before them, against a vile and demanding force far stronger than they. But with Karyn’s loyalty far from certain, Zyr offers her only chance to aid the defense—a dangerous gambit to seek out a land not seen in centuries, using clues no one can decipher. Together, they’ll have every opportunity to fail—and one chance to steal something truly precious…

  Dedication

  For Carien, because Zyr likes you best, too.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to all of my wonderful writer friends who ask me how I’m doing and then listen to the answer: Grace Draven, Kelly Robson, Darynda Jones, Megan Hart, Katie Lane, Jennifer Estep, Minerva Spencer, and many others. Special thanks to Grace for the beta read, and Kelly for the daily sunshine and for always knowing which book I’m working on.

  Love to Terri Beth Chenault and Rachel Cox, for tea and prosecco.

  A grateful shout-out, too, to all the denizens of Jeffe’s Closet for cheering every time I post an excerpt. To them and all the faithful readers of this series, many thanks for your patience during the extended wait.

  Thanks to Peter Senftleben for his excellent developmental editing and to Rebecca Cremonese for her stellar production editing skills.

  Much appreciation to my Santa Fe critique group for wine and conversation: Edward Khmara, M.T. Reiten, Jim Sorenson, Sage Walker, and Eric Wolf.

  I’m giving yet another special prostration of awe and gratitude to Ravven for the absolutely incredible cover. I’ve been looking at it for the best part of a year for inspiration while writing, and I’m still not tired of it.

  Many thanks to my family, especially to my mom, who told me she loved Zynda.

  Love to David, first, last, and always.

  Copyright © 2018 by Jennifer M. Kennedy

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or business establishments, organizations or locales is completely coincidental.

  Thank you for reading!

  Credits

  Content Editor: Peter Senftleben

  Line and Copy Editor: Rebecca Cremonese

  Back Cover Copy: Erin Nelsen Parekh

  Cover Design: Ravven ravven.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright Page

  Maps

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Titles by Jeffe Kennedy

  About Jeffe Kennedy

  The Arrows of the Heart

  by Jeffe Kennedy

  ~ 1 ~

  As soon as the sky lightened with the promise of dawn, I dressed and went out.

  Better than staring at the empty foreign sky outside the unglazed windows, waiting until it was time to meet the Hawks for training. I’d walk down to the market stalls and get breakfast and hot floral tea, then sit and watch the sea, try to pretend I fit in. That way I could at least be around other people.

  Walking out of the little apartment they’d assigned to me in the cliff city of Annfwn, capital of the Tala homeland, I took a deep breath, hoping it looked like I only admired the view, instead of needing a moment to steady myself. It was a spectacular one, to be sure. Only a broad path separated my front door from a stone balustrade and then a sheer drop to the beach below. The gentle, tropically warm sea lay in shadow still, with the sun yet to break over the mountain behind me. Farther out, though, the sun’s rays hit the water, turning it an astonishing shade of aqua.

  If I had to be stranded in a foreign land, forever exiled from my family and the future that had once shone so bright, at least I’d ended up in a pretty place. Until they kicked me out for being at best useless and at worst an enemy.

  For the moment, however, I had coin—actual money, for the first time in my life—and I could buy some food to assuage my empty belly. One aching hole in myself that could be easily filled.

  Resolutely straightening my spine—after all, I’d been the fourth highest ranked woman in the Dasnarian Empire, until I threw it all away—I turned my feet downhill, walking on the public path down the cliff face to the market level.

  I hadn’t gotten more than one level down when I came around a bend and saw the child. Like all Tala, she had long, dark hair, hers in elaborate ringlets. She perched, weeping piteously, and squatting on a low wall that bordered the road—with a sheer drop beneath. My heart skipped into a panicked beat. The Tala were casual about such things, but I couldn’t understand how. I wanted to seize her and sweep her off the ledge, then lecture her furiously.

  Though I’d be speaking in Common Tongue, which I understood reasonably well now from my friend Jepp’s thorough—and occasionally pointed—tutelage on board the Hákyrling. The warrior woman hadn’t taught me any of the liquid Tala language. The Tala didn’t seem to have rules for me to cite, regardless.

  Still, I’d never forgive myself if the child fell and I’d done nothing. Moving swiftly, I put my hands on her shoulders. “Careful,” I said in Common Tongue. Or rather, started to say.

  Beneath my touch, the girl vanished, a pretty songbird exploding to wing in her place. I shrieked in reflexive shock, clasping my hands over my mouth. The bird returned to circle my head, then became the little girl again. If she were a Dasnarian child, I’d guess her to be about eight, as I had several nieces that age. The Tala didn’t age the same as normal people, though, so I couldn’t be sure. She stared at me owlishly, eyes a light shade of blue, and she said something in her language.

  I held up my palms in ignorance. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “I speak Common Tongue,” she said, with a better accent than mine. “You scared me.”

  “You scared me,” I said sternly. �
��It’s not safe to be…” I trailed off, realizing that a child who could become a bird at a moment’s notice would hardly be vulnerable to a fall. What a fool I was, in this strange place where nothing made sense. “I heard you weeping,” I finished instead. “Are you all right?”

  Her smooth face crumpled, tears welling up again and magnifying the pretty blue. “My aunt is dead, and my mother is sad all the time.”

  Oh. How terrible. “I’m so sorry,” I said, wanting to cuddle her. I didn’t know the customs for dealing with children here, though.

  “Why are you sorry?” She asked, cocking her head, much as the bright-eyed bird would’ve done. “It was the Deyrr sleeper-spies. She was out swimming as a fish and an undead shark ate her.”

  I wondered how they knew what happened to the aunt, if she’d been eaten, not that I’d be so rude as to ask. The magically animated corpses that the Tala called sleeper spies didn’t eat, so probably the thing had just chewed her up. Did the Tala revert to human form after death? A daunting thought. I shuddered. “I’m sorry. That sounds very hard.”

  “You shouldn’t be sorry. I know you didn’t kill her. And even though you’re Dasnarian, you’re not them.” She said it with such scorn and disgust that she sounded very nearly adult.

  I didn’t know what to say. The practitioners of Deyrr came from Dasnaria, but no right-thinking people had anything to do with the cult and their black magic. Still, I felt some responsibility, that such a dark thing had come from my homeland to hers. Not that I could affect anything in this ongoing war. I was only a woman, not a warrior. I was also a refugee and dependent on their tolerance. How to explain that to an eight-year-old girl?

  “You seem to know a lot about the war,” I ventured. No girl child in Dasnaria would know so much.

  “I have a very good teacher,” she explained. “Zyr teaches us about shapeshifting, and we’ve been practicing how to fight the sleeper spies. I jump on them from above and make them confused by flying around their heads really fast. I can only be a songbird, so I’m not much other use in a fight.” She made a face, clearly disappointed with that.

  Privately I thought Zyr shouldn’t be teaching the girls to fight anyway—and who knew the flirtatious, changeable man who plagued me at every turn was a teacher? “That’s more than I can do,” I said.

  “Yes, all Dasnarians are mossbacks,” she replied with authority. “Zyr said. But you can shoot a bow really well, he said, too. You’re Karyn and a nice person. You won’t hurt us. I’m Thalia,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

  I curtseyed, lowering my gaze. Zyr had talked about me? How…disconcerting. “It’s a privilege to make your acquaintance, Thalia.”

  She laughed. “You’re funny.”

  It just figured that a Tala child would find good manners laughable.

  “I’d better practice some more,” she said, then nodded solemnly. “I’m going to avenge my aunt and protect Annfwn.”

  “It was lovely to meet you, Thalia.”

  The child grinned, waved, and ran to the stone wall. “Die, Deyrr sleeper monsters!” she yelled, and jumped off. Unable to help myself, I ran to the wall and looked over the dizzying drop. The little bird swooped in circles, joined by several others. Real birds or other shapeshifter children, I had no idea.

  I withdrew to the safety of the road and continued on, thinking about young Thalia, her tears, and her determination to fight. And about Zyr who talked about me to his students. The people I passed nodded and smiled. Some called out greetings in their own language, others in Common Tongue. I didn’t have to wonder how they or Thalia knew who I was. They all recognized me easily as I was pretty much the only blonde in all of Annfwn.

  I fiddled with my braid, pulling it over my shoulder to run my fingers along the smooth bumps. That, at least, had stayed the same, a comforting anchor to my past, much as I hated the way I stood out in Annfwn, in a sea of the dark-haired Tala who wore their hair loose and wild as their manners. I wouldn’t ever cut mine for exactly this reason—I couldn’t lose that last tie to who I’d always been. Dasnaria had birthed me and her daughter I’d remain to my dying day.

  I had, however, strongly considered coloring my hair dark. Until the shapeshifting sorceress Zynda had advised me not to only the day before, even though she’d agreed it made me exceptional. “In an interesting way,” she’d said, which didn’t quite make sense to me. I wasn’t interesting. Not anymore.

  I might have been somebody, if I’d held on to being Kral’s wife. He’d been an Imperial Prince, in line for the throne, and I could’ve been Empress of the Dasnarian Empire. That would have been something. But I’d given that up. So had Kral for that matter, and for love of the mannish Jepp, of all things. I didn’t understand it. Most days I didn’t understand what in Sól I had been thinking.

  Except that I’d wanted more. Stupid, because I’d ended up with less than I’d had.

  The loneliness was getting to me. That’s what had made me babble the way I had with Zynda. I’d been so happy to have someone to have an actual conversation with and then I’d blundered so badly that it made me wince to think of it. What had possessed me to blurt out that I wanted to change my hair so Zyr would lose interest and stop his flirting—and then he turned out to be her brother! I groaned at myself, tugging hard on my braid so my scalp ached. Stupid stupid stupid.

  The gorgeous Tala woman had discomfited me, that was all. I’d seen her shapeshift into countless different animals and work actual magic, and she’d chatted with me, kindly offering advice. She’d even told me just to tell Zyr “in no uncertain terms” to leave me alone. As if a woman could order a man about.

  Then I’d dissolved into a spate of apologies—even after she’d chided me for it—and embarrassed myself beyond recovery. Something about her brash confidence and those deep blue eyes that seemed to see inside my head… she flustered me utterly. Just as Zyr did.

  Zyr. First Thalia mentioned the troublesome man and then he appeared, walking right toward me.

  I’d reached a narrow portion of the road with a flower-draped wall on one side and the balustrade on the other, with the sheer drop below. No awnings or houses, nothing to duck behind. He hadn’t seen me yet, as he seemed to be studying a large wooden box he carried, so maybe I could run back the way I came, then slip behind that sculpture back there and—

  “Karyn!” Zyr. Looking right at me.

  I jerked my gaze from his piercing blue one. A man’s eyes shouldn’t be so noticeable from that distance. I halted, dropping the skirts I’d immodestly gathered to free my feet for the run, sincerely regretting that I hadn’t bolted when I had the chance. To duck him now would be unforgivably rude.

  I curtseyed a little, eyes politely averted. “Lord Zyr. Good morning.”

  “I’ve told you nine thousand times that I don’t have a title.” He sounded irritated, his voice rough as if he hadn’t been awake very long.

  I studied him surreptitiously. He looked like it, too—rumpled, barefoot, and wearing knee-length pants with a big shirt over them, his long hair loose and tangled. The shirt hung open and wrinkled, and he hadn’t bothered with the ties. I hadn’t thought he was an early riser and his dishevelment seemed to bear that out. What had he been up to so early?

  “I apologize,” I replied. These Tala with their lack of rank and titles—how did anyone know how to address anyone? I knew I’d never be able to call him baldly by his name. It also seemed equally impolite to just truncate my apology like that. I truly longed for Dasnaria’s clear rules for behavior.

  “Don’t apologize so much either,” he bit out, and I swallowed a sigh. Zynda had said the same. Even Thalia had remarked on it. I couldn’t say anything without apologizing again, so I stood there, waiting for him to lose his patience with me entirely, which usually didn’t take long—I couldn’t imagine how he could be a teacher—so he’d quit blocking my path and let me go have my breakfast. “Where are you going so early anyway?” he asked, when the silence stretched
out too long.

  I could ask him the same. “I’m going down to the market to buy tea and a sweet roll,” I replied, adding a silent Lord Zyr to make myself feel better and satisfy the voice of my etiquette tutor in my head.

  “I’m hungry, too. I’ll join you.”

  I would have liked to protest, but I could hardly contradict the command. So I glumly followed along when he turned and headed back the way he’d come. He slowed, so I slowed, too. When he stopped, I stopped, peering at him peripherally to determine what the problem might be.

  “Why are you trailing along behind me—something wrong with your feet?” he asked, looking me up and down.

  “In Dasnaria, it’s proper for a woman to—”

  “Well, you’re not in Dasnaria, are you? I don’t see any hulking brutes in armor like giant beetles anywhere around here, stinking up the place, do you?”

  I had to suppress a giggle at the image, it shocked me so. “No,” I replied carefully. “We are in Annfwn.”

  “Then walk beside me already. I feel like a fucking idiot leading a parade with you dragging your feet behind me. I’m buying you breakfast, not taking you to be punished.”

  Obediently, I moved up to walk next to him. It felt wrenchingly wrong to walk so boldly next to a man, and one I wasn’t even related to, but it would be far worse to disobey. Musing over his comment about taking me to be punished, I dearly wanted to ask about that. So far as I’d been able to tell, the Tala were an exceptionally undisciplined people. Children like Thalia ran wild all over the cliff city, climbing vines and sliding down tunnels—often changing form as they did. I could never be sure which were people as animals and which were the actual animals that flocked to the fruit trees and warm alcoves of the area. Then there were the staymachs, which seemed to be some sort of magical animal that could shapeshift into different animals. So confusing.

  Sometimes I suspected even the Tala couldn’t tell which was what. The difference between us was that they didn’t care, whereas not having that certainty made me profoundly uncomfortable.