Page 35 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

“You say that like I know where it is.”

Cedaar sighed. “It’s at least a few hours from here, but with a portal, it would only take a few minutes.”

“Let me guess, we have to go get it?”

I nodded.

“If the queen wishes for us to be at dinner tonight,” Cedaar cut in, “I suppose we can go now and be back in time.”

“We?” Xio asked.

Cedaar rose from the opaque water, and even though he had clothes on, I averted my gaze, staring at Xio’s feet.

“Yes, we,” he said, stepping from the pool, water hitting the stone floor.

I watched Xio’s feet move toward him, stand close, and then back away. Material danced across the floor before wrapping around him and nearly covering his feet.

I glanced up then to see Xio shaking her head at him. He was sliding one arm, then the other, into his shirt. Concern scrunched my face when I caught sight of the wound across his abdomen. It was not healing, and now purple lines zigzagged from the edges of the slash.

“You,” Xio poked him square in the chest, “are not going anywhere.”

“And you’re not going alone,” he retorted.

“I won’t be alone. I’ll have my right-hand man, Reggie.”

Reggie made a sound somewhere between shock and denial. Cedaar whipped his head toward him and glared. “No offense, but what self-defense does Reggie have that I do not?”

“Well, first, there is no need for self-defense. I am only bringing him so that vein on the side of your head doesn’t poke out from worry when I leave, and two, do you really think I need someone to protect me?”

Cedaar made a face. “Yes. Have you met you?”

She swatted his shoulder, the slap drawing a smile from them both.

“I’m going. You are going to have your magical meeting with a queen.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close. She placed a kiss on his lips hard enough that it left a smack and stepped back. “And then I’ll be back to give you dessert.”

Cedaar’s eyes widened a fraction, and I wondered what the word dessert meant.

“What’s dessert?” I asked Reggie.

He only shook his head. “Some things are better left unknown.”

THIRTEEN

SAMKIEL

I stared at my reflection as I laced my pants. A sharp pain pierced my side, originating from the slash across my abdomen. I winced and pressed my hand over it, surprised at how much it still hurt. Not that I would tell Dianna. She was worried enough. She’d been asking often and always watching me. I’d been forcing smiles, pretending it didn’t ache every damn second. I felt weak and off balance, and my power still danced across the sky.

I carefully traced my fingers along the wound. The damn thing nearly split me in two. The purple lines along the edges were new and another cause for her recent hypersensitivity. I bit back a curse as I pulled the white tunic over my head, letting out a shaky breath as it settled. The laces that crisscrossed my chest stayed untied. The clothes were already a tight fit.

Turning from the mirror, I glanced at the empty room and prayed to the old gods the root Dianna brought back would help. I thought of last night and how I’d awakened in such intense pain that I had to run to the bathroom. A small smile curved my lips as she sat with me in there, her hand running across the back of my head as I expelled my previous meal. She talked to me, comforting me with stories of her past with Gabby and all the things she still wanted to do. Gods above and below, I loved her even more for that.

I was half afraid that if I didn’t heal soon, she would start threatening the healers or, worse, burn the whole damn place and send it to the seafloor. Although what the healers were doing didn’t seem to be helping. The only remedy that seemed to provide any relief was the tea Miska snuck off to make. I padded toward the edge of the bed, holding my side as I slipped my shoes on.

Someone knocked on the door, and before I could answer, it opened, and the healer named Killie entered.

“She will see you now.”

THE DINING HALL WAS OVERDONE, TO SAY THE LEAST. FLOWERS AND vines decorated the tables, and lillievines climbed so high they breached the open ceiling. Frilla sat at the head of the table, and one of her consorts leaned over, pouring a liquid of shimmering yellow into her glass. She stepped back, and Frilla took a sip. The cream garment she wore twisted and curved high on her shoulders, rising behind her neck and head in a mock crown.

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