Page 70 of Shattered Jewel

Axe shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They want the Heart. We’re going too slow for them.”

I nod. I’d hoped we’d have more time. Time to plan, to prepare, to find that goddamn other half. Time to find a way out of this hellscape.

I return to the mirror, my reflection a stranger’s face, hard and unyielding. The brand on my chest throbs in time with my heartbeat, a constant reminder of what I am.

“They’ve never marked you so visibly before,” I say into the mirror, watching him in its reflection.

Axe steps further into the light, and it’s even worse up close. The gash is jagged, deliberate in its cruelty, a clear message from our overlords. His one gray eye is stormy, flashing with the memory of their spite. He remains silent for a beat too long, and I know this is more than punishment. It’s a warning.

Axe’s jaw sets, his fingers graze the angry cut as if to confirm its reality.

“They want everyone to see,” he mutters, a dark edge to his voice.

I slow my breaths in an attempt to steady the rage. “Are they truly desperate enough to carve their impatience into your face?”

My hand unconsciously touches the symbol seared into my chest.

“Seems so.” Axe’s gaze falls away, and for a moment, he looks lost—a side of him I’m not accustomed to seeing.

An uneasiness stirs in the pit of my stomach, like a sleeping creature’s waiting there and wants to crack open an eye.

“Then we need to be quicker than their desperation,” I say, wrapping a fresh bandage around my torso. The Sovereigns have played with us like pieces on a chessboard for too long. But they’ve underestimated us. They always have.

Axe reaches out to help, but hesitates. His hand hovers in the air before falling back to his side. We’ve been taught to bear our wounds with stoicism because they are deserved.

Once finished, I reach for my shirt, shoving my arms through the sleeves with a grimace as the movement stretches my raw skin. Axe watches me, his expression unreadable.

Stepping away from the mirror’s accusing gaze, I move toward Axe. My hand comes up to touch his scarred cheek lightly. His skin is fever-hot beneath my fingers, but he doesn’t flinch.

“We’re not their slaves,” I say, my voice dropping even as the conviction within me roars like a beast unleashed.

Axe nods and then winces as the motion pulls at his wound. The sight reignites that flare of rage within me.

Rage at those who had hurt him; rage at myself for being powerless to prevent it; rage at our circumstances that have robbed us of any choice.

It’s the curse again. It’s come for Axe through the Sovereigns’ wishes, and if it’s anything like what befell my ancestors, my grandfather and father … I’ll lose Axe, too.

I button my shirt, each fastening a protest against my swollen skin.

“What’s our next move?” Axe asks.

There’s an insistent pounding at my skull—a throbbing reminder that we’re not safe here anymore. None of us are until we unravel this curse clinging to our lives like a malignancy.

“We need to get out of Thornhaven,” I say.

Axe breathes out a single, determined word, “Elara.”

“Yes. We’ll take her with us.”

I haven’t forgotten what Elara sacrificed to bring me back from madness, the way she sheathed my body and soul, guiding me to her light rather than raving in the dark. If we leave her anywhere other than by our side, we risk her dying next. But if I put her in our corner, fighting alongside us, the curse might find her, too…

“If we fail to bring the Sovereigns the Heart the next time we’re summoned,” I continue, staring hard over Axe’s shoulder, at nothing, at everything, “They’ll have our souls next.”

Axe’s forehead wrinkles, the gash on his face becoming more prominent and violent. “They can’t actually take our souls.”

“Yes, they can. The curse—” I pause when Axe pulls his phone from his pocket and searches for the relevant note to remind him of what I’m talking about.

I know he finds it when his forehead smooths and an emotion close to pity obscures his working gray eye.

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