A Heart So Fierce and Broken (The Cursebreaker Series) by Brigid Kemmerer Read Free Book Online

the city.
    In my peripheral vision, I see Worwick come around the corner, but I don’t take my eyes off the man in front of me. Kantor doesn’t take his off me.
    “Kantor! Hawk!” Worwick sounds confused. “What … what are you doing?”
    “Kantor was going to kill your scraver,” pipes up Tycho. “Hawk stopped him.”
    “Ah, I was just fooling around,” drawls Kantor. He lowers his sword and holds out his arm. “The damn thing got me good.”
    “You got it first,” I say.
    Behind me, the scraver growls again.
    “Enough foolishness,” says Worwick. “The Grand Marshal has dropped off a royal decree to be read before the tourney. Rumors are running wild in the street, so we’ll have a packed house tonight.”
    That’s enough to pull my attention away from Kantor. “A royal decree?”
    “The prince is offering five hundred silvers to anyone who can produce someone with the blood of a magesmith.”
    I freeze. The blood of a magesmith. Rhen can’t say it outright,because he’d lend legitimacy to the rumors, but he’s looking for the heir.
    He’s looking for me .
    “Five hundred silvers!” Kantor finally lowers his blade and turns away from me. “Worwick, I’d turn you in for five hundred silvers.”
    “Evidence of magic must be proven,” says Worwick. His eyes light up. “Tycho. Hawk. You spend time in the city. You haven’t seen evidence of magic in Rillisk, have you?”
    As if we’d give him someone’s name and allow him to claim the coins.
    But at least this offers me some measure of safety. I’ve never been able to use magic on my own. Maybe Lilith was wrong. Maybe I’m not the heir to anything at all.
    Don’t you want to know the truth? she said to me. About the blood that runs in your veins? About how you were the only guardsman to survive?
    I want her to be wrong.
    She’s not, though. I know she’s not. My mother admitted it before I fled.
    “No one has seen magic,” says Tycho. “The magesmiths were killed off before I was born.”
    “Not all of them, apparently,” says Worwick. “Hawk, are you ill?”
    “No. I’m fine.” I force my limbs to move, and I hang the blade along the wall.
    “Kantor, did you cut my scraver?” Worwick tsks . “Hawk, stitch it up, would you?”
    “Yes.” I have no idea how I’ll do that, but my brain won’t stop spinning.
    Five hundred silvers is a fortune to most. The people of Emberfall will turn on each other to claim it. Rhen must be desperate.
    “Be ready for crowds, boys,” says Worwick. “Tycho, be ready to pour. I don’t want lines for ale. We’ll turn a pretty profit in gambling alone, I’m sure.”
    “I’ll make sure of it.” Kantor laughs. He smacks the other man on the shoulder good-naturedly. Worwick smiles and heads back toward the front of the tourney.
    I sigh and look at Tycho. “Fetch some ropes. I’ll get the needle.”

    The tourney doesn’t close until well after midnight. When we finally climb the ladder to our shared loft, Tycho doesn’t bother to light the lantern; he just falls into his bed. I expect him to tumble into sleep just as quickly, but instead he says, “I can’t imagine five hundred silvers all together.”
    I don’t need to imagine it, but I say, “I’ve been hearing about that all night.”
    “Do you think it’s heavy?”
    “Heavy enough to make you walk crooked.” This isn’t true, but it makes him laugh, and then he falls silent.
    I stare at the worn wooden rafters over my bed. The loft smells of hay and horses and holds the heat of the stable below, but I don’t mind. It’s warm and safe and dry here. I have nothing to fear from Tycho.
    “It would buy my freedom from Worwick,” he says quietly.
    I turn my head to look at him, barely a dim shadow in the midnight darkness. “Your freedom?”
    “I’m sworn to him.” He pauses. “Two more years.”
    “Why?”
    “Bad luck. Bad debts.”
    I’ve never seen Tycho gamble a single copper. “Not yours.”
    “My father.” He