Page 9 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

Isaiah chuckled and kicked his feet up. “Speaking of which? Where are those two?”

Nismera shrugged her shoulders, her eyes still on the blade. “Busy. I have them taking care of something.” And that was that. We continued to talk, but not of war or plans of siege, just a recollection of our time apart. Laughter filled the battle room until Nismera yawned and excused herself.

Isaiah whistled low through his teeth as he leaned back, his boots resting on the table. “I have to say I’ve never seen you this enamored with another.”

I said nothing as I reached into my pocket and took out the bloodstained coin. I flipped it between my fingers. A thousand years I had with Dianna, and that damned part of me that still hoped and cared wished I had more. I thought I would have forever.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I whispered to Isaiah. “They weren’t supposed to find one another.”

“How did they? Mera never really said. She just threw a table through a stone wall and squished a few guards to death when you told her. I didn’t press any further after that.”

My lips pressed into a thin line, and I met his eyes. “Truthfully, fate, probably. The plan was for Samkiel to come back after the weapon was made. Dianna would help me kill him before she ever felt the bond and knew what he was to her, but I was wrong. Maybe she was seeking that connection on some level. She killed Zekiel, which brought Samkiel back. They hated each other, and by the time I realized they had teamed up and were looking for that book, it was too late. They have been inseparable since.”

Isaiah glanced at the coin in my hand before meeting my eyes. “What’s it like? To love?”

I swallowed and clenched the coin in my hand. Isaiah always asked me for guidance as if I were the oldest and he was the youngest. We were all we had. We spent eons trapped in Yejedin, locked away by the one person who was supposed to love us no matter what. Love to us was deadly, powerful, and, above all, something we would rip to pieces to keep.

“Being around Dianna was the first time I truly felt anything besides anger or hate or bloodlust. For us?” My eyes held his. “Love is a terrible, cruel thing.”

Isaiah finished his glass in one long gulp before placing it on the table. “Very well then. How exactly will we find her?”

“I have an idea.”

FOUR

CAMERON. ONE WEEK LATER

A fist made of sharpened bone hit the side of my head so hard I face-planted on the floor. I felt the blood leak from my gash before my skin tingled, and it healed.

Cheers rang out, a thousand voices screaming as the ghastly beast stomped around me. He tossed his massive arms in the air, all four pumping wildly, encouraging the crowd. The bands strapped around his biceps carried small bone fragments of his last victims.

“Puny celestial scum,” he snarled as he turned toward me.

I spat at his feet and pushed myself up, every muscle aching. The floor shook as he walked toward me. The screaming of the crowd grew tenfold, row after twisting row of armored beasts and beings from every walk of life. Some seemed to be on a break, puffing smoke from the cigars that hung from their mouths. Others slammed tankards of shimmering liquid against each other, toasting as they watched the fights. A few beings skulked around the edges, trying to blend in. Regardless of who they were, they were all here for the blood sport.

“Your precious World Ender’s remains float amongst the stars now.”

He kicked the side of my head hard enough that my vision blurred. Flashes of Rashearim burned behind my vision. Images of all of us sitting around laughing, Samkiel’s face the brightest.

“You all thought you could best us!” he roared.

Another kick had me spinning through the air, my back hitting the rusted, mangled fence surrounding the arena. I crashed to the floor, my ribs cracked, and my back screaming. I suppressed the healing of my wounds a little longer just to feel the pain.

“War songs were made for you and your ilk. Now look at you. Pathetic.”

His foot slammed into my back hard enough to crack the ground beneath me. Even that pain didn’t slow the memories of that damned council room. I again saw the symbols etched into the floor, and chains strong enough to hold the god I knew wouldn’t last much longer, and it was all because of me. One glance and I hated myself, hated as I turned away and followed after Xavier, the entire time knowing the consequences.

“No more protector for you.” Another kick to the face, the crowd growing hungry for more bloodshed.

He was right. There was no one, not anymore, not for me or them. This was Iassulyn.

I tried to push myself up again.

“I think when I am done with you, I will find the rest of your precious Hand brethren and finish them too.”

I coughed a laugh as he knelt and grabbed me by my hair, ripping my head back.

“Maybe I will start with the dark-haired one. What was his name? Xavier?”

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