Page 52 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

“She has Isaiah’s and Samkiel’s. I can smell it.” I took a shuddering breath. “She must have collected Samkiel’s when she killed him, but Isaiah’s?”

“Kaden.”

“What?” I snapped, turning toward her.

She stood there with an empty vial in her hand. “I think all she’s missing is yours.”

A SLEEPING SPELL AND A SLIGHT JOG LATER, CAMILLA AND I ASCENDED the stairs. A few generals and guards passed us but said nothing. I hoped our plan worked. We had both been gone for more than a minute, and I knew Nismera would have noticed.

“No one can know,” I whispered into her ear as I held her upper arm.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just put away the banner I was making where I tell everyone what we found.” She tried to pull away from me and failed.

My lip curled as I turned her to face me. “Camilla, I will—”

“I know, I know, threats, dismemberment. I’ve worked for you for eons, Kaden. But you need to watch after yourself. Nismera is doing something far more malicious than—”

Her words died as I slammed my lips over hers. Her body froze, and I felt magic swirl beneath her lips, ready to rip me to pieces.

“Well, I suppose it makes sense why you’d skip a meeting of importance,” Nismera purred behind us.

I pulled back and glared at Camilla, warning her to play along. Her lips thinned in displeasure, promising retribution before she faked innocence.

“Mera,” I said, turning to see her and her guards. Vincent was at her side, looking at Camilla with bewilderment, and Isaiah had a shit-eating grin on his face. “You talk too long. I was bored, so I found something far less boring. Besides, I assumed you’d still be blabbing. I was almost back.”

A cool smile formed on her lips as she clasped her hands over her sparkling, jagged dress. Her crown never even tilted. “Let’s not make this a habit, shall we? Maybe save your trysts for the evening, perhaps?”

“My apologies. Camilla is usually quicker than this.” I smiled, ignoring the sharp sting of magic that jabbed into my arm.

Nismera raised her hand. “Vincent, can you escort our lovely guest to her workroom, where she should stay with guards, yes?”

The last part made me wonder. Now that I thought about it, she never let Camilla go too far without Vincent or her guards. At first, I had assumed it was because she thought Camilla would flee, and Nismera needed her power to help the other witches fix Nismera’s medallion. But it had been so long now that Camilla wouldn’t run. She might snoop and be too damn nosy, but she wouldn’t run. What about Camilla had her so concerned?

Not glancing at me, Vincent stepped forward, completely focused on Camilla. They stared at each other as if it was I who had interrupted something. Neither of them said anything as they left.

Isaiah came to my side, shaking his head as Mera left with her guards. They turned the corner, heading back toward the west wing before Isaiah spoke. “Don’t shit where you eat?” He snorted, slapping a hand on my back. “Great advice.”

I turned to him with no comeback. I wanted to leave and process what I had seen, but worry for him stopped me. Why had Nismera taken his and Samkiel’s blood, and why did she want mine? What was she planning that she needed our blood?

NINETEEN

SAMKIEL. FIVE DAYS LATER

My side ached as I moved on the roll laid out in our tent. I was so tired of this constant pain. We were at another stop, only this time in the hills of Klivur, to pick up another set of prisoners and a huge crate. Sweat drenched my forehead as I rolled to my back and sat up.

A groan came from outside, one of pure pain. I turned, glancing toward the side of the tent where the elf stayed, and saw nothing but a tangled mess of worn blankets.

The grunt sounded again, only this time voices followed.

“Slimy bastard.”

Tossing off the blankets, I sat up. I headed toward the tent entrance and peeked out. Only a few small fires burned, and there were no prisoners or guards around. There was another grunt, and my head whipped toward the forest’s edge. I stalked forward, past wagons and the thick-maned huroehe that pulled them. I worried about their hooves with this terrain. Even as hard as they were, the jagged rocks could cut the soft underside after a while. They huffed, paying me no mind, the thick, long hairs of their tails swatting back and forth as they ate the wiry grass and herbs the guards provided.

I snuck past them, drawing closer to the noise. The light from the fires faded as I reached the front of two wagons and a sharp cry rent the air. I sprinted toward the noise as it grew more distant, my instincts screaming at me to hurry. The wind whipped over the mountains, rustling the leaves. I came to the second clearing and stopped just inside the tree line.

“That will teach you to be a fucking traitor,” a guard spat at the crumpled form he dropped. I saw the tail and knew who it was. Another guard lifted his arm, laughing as he pointed. “Drop him off the side of the cliff. No one will know.”

“What about Nismera?”

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