Page 115 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

I pulled him into an embrace as he sobbed. “You don’t hate me too?”

I shook my head. “No, never.”

He’d locked us in the realm we used to run with vile beasts and creatures he deemed beneath him. Like them, we were nothing but inconveniences to him. So, we had built our own home from the ground up in that prison realm, and it had turned our hearts as jagged and brutal as the landscape. He never came back, never checked on us. I knew he had replaced us with that squealing runt of a child that had been born.

Unir had never cared and had used us as weapons until we’d outlived our usefulness. Once we were no longer needed, he’d tossed us aside without an ounce of care. That was when hate bloomed in my heart and the moment I had grown into a man. I sat on that throne in Yejedin, vowing, above all else, to make him suffer in ways he’d only dreamed of.

I spent years with Isaiah, training the prisoners we could, readying them for the war I craved. It wasn’t until the world shook and fractured that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that one of our siblings loved us. She had cared enough to punch her way through our prison to save us. Nismera made it possible. She cared, and she would have our loyalty until we were ashes and the realms burned.

The seat next to me creaked as Isaiah sat. The bar had gone deathly quiet. He and his lethal reputation were well known here, and it didn’t help he was wearing that damn dragonbane armor, either.

The bartender stepped forward, and I could smell the fear leaking from him. “Would you like the same, sir?”

Isaiah smiled and nodded before turning to me. “I was looking for you. Elianna said you stormed into the city, and I thought of this place.”

“Hmm, it seems Elianna is paying far too much attention to me.”

“What happened to your face?” he asked.

I groaned and waved off his question. “Doesn’t matter. Learned anything else?”

The bartender brought his drink back and then scurried away. Isaiah took a sip before placing his glass down. “Only that Vincent and a small unit are heading to one of her prisons to collect more prisoners, it seems. Nothing else. The Eye has been quiet.”

“Everyone is terrified of Nismera,” I said, lowering my glass back to the bar and running my thumb along the rim.

“Yeah.” Isaiah leaned forward. “They just don’t know her as we do.”

I scoffed. “They praise Unir as a hero, but he locked his very sons away for centuries, tossing us aside when that fucking brat was born. Nismera was the only one who gave a shit. She saved us. She broke through a realm for us, yet . . .” I stopped, raising the glass to my lips and taking a drink. “I hope she burns this world of the old gods. I hope no one even remembers their godsdamn names.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Isaiah asked. “I knew being back would stir old memories, brother, but we’re not there anymore. We’re free.”

He’d hit far too close to a nerve that still felt exposed and raw. Isaiah spoke of freedom, but my mind and soul still felt trapped there. Even though fresh air filled my lungs and heat did not mar my skin, a part of me was still waiting to be saved.

“You know I will protect you no matter what, right?” I said, lowering my glass. I didn’t look at him, but I felt his eyes on me.

His hand clasped my shoulder tightly. “I know, you always have.”

“War is coming, Isaiah. We need to be prepared.”

FORTY-FOUR

CAMERON

I tilted my head back, the bitter liquor hitting the back of my throat with nothing more than a slight sting. It stopped burning a while ago.

The stars above shimmered through the silver energy that swirled through the sky.

I raised my bottle high in a salute. “That’s all that’s left of you now, isn’t it, buddy?” I said to the light show above. I stared at the remnants of Samkiel, and my heart clenched, my vision clouding with tears. I’d lost him, my family, and Xavier.

“Okay, hear me out.” My feet shuffled as I tried to keep up with him. His armored boots were stained with red dirt. I knew he’d just returned from whatever assignment Unir had given him, but I couldn’t wait to ask.

“Another ill request for permanent room service and your own castle on a hill?” Logan said, shaking his head, his armor filthy.

“That was one time!” I snapped back, drawing a laugh out of Samkiel’s most trusted. “This is about The Hand.”

Samkiel’s dark braid bounced against his back with each step, his dented helmet held under one arm. The sash with the three-headed beast strained around one biceps. He turned and came to a stop, his guards nearly stumbling as they came to an abrupt halt.

“Cameron, for the last time, I merely mentioned tryouts. I haven’t had time to breathe, let alone think of when they would start.”

---