Page 127 of Heirs of the Cursed

Killian cursed under his breath.

That damned bastard’s dogs were known as monsters with amplified abilities. How many were there? Two? Seven? It didn’t matter. Not even all the men of the army who had accompanied him to Bellmare would be enough to fight them.

“We must hurry, then. I’ll deal with the princess myself. And then, we’ll put Amira Boreaalinen’s head on a spike for her sister to watch it burn in flames before we go after her as well.”

35

Saevus Forest

A week had passed.

A week in which Darcia was a fugitive from the Crown.

Darcia and Alasdair had to leave the inn the next day. The thief made use of his delinquent skills to ‘borrow’ a few articles of clothing and food for their journey. At first, she looked at him with disapproval, but eventually realized that, whether she wanted to or not, they needed those provisions to survive. And there was still a long way ahead of them before they reached Bellmare.

With each passing day, nature changed and the temperatures dropped at the soon arrival of winter’s solstice, known as the Night of the Fallen Stars. Despite the cold, they didn’t light any bonfires to avoid being seen. They slept in the forest, hidden by low bushes. But on the days of freezing storms, they paid for a room in discreet taverns to protect themselves from the weather.

“I have begun to loathe the rain with every fiber of my being,” Darcia said as she admired the storm through the small window in the room, which had delayed their journey.

After finding an inn in the town of Icemire, Darcia had kept the dark hood of her cloak in place to cover her features. It was Alasdair who paid for the room with the last of their vramnias. But as the rain dampened the earth, she’d focused on the simplicity of the stale food and sour ale to keep her mind off the torment that plagued her at night.

Alasdair silently fiddled with the dagger he’d stolen from Darcia after one of the first encounters.

“They say that snow is a symbol of good omens, fortune, and a better future.”

Darcia snorted. “But it’s raining, not snowing. Which makes me think things aren’t going to get better any time soon.”

“To know that we don’t need the rain either.”

“Any news?” she asked, plopping down by his side on the rickety bed.

Alasdair turned to face her and set the dagger on his lap. He’d been out a few nights to gather information from the villagers, tono avail. By the sparkle in his eyes, Darcia wondered if perhaps he’d been lucky this time.

“Apparently, the Chaser is already looking for us with the help of your stepbrother’s dogs.”

Darcia looked at him with a frown. “Dogs?”

“The Fiend’s dogs,” Alasdair explained, leaning back to look at her. “They are said to be the men he entrusts with his dirty work. They aren’t mere dryadalis, not since he has turned them into monsters. They are recognizable by their disfigured faces and their insatiable thirst for blood.”

A shiver ran through her body.

“That isn’t comforting at all.”

“It isn’t. Let’s hope your sister is smart and stays hidden until we get there.”

“I didn’t know where I came from, so what makes you think she knows who she really is?”

“Well, if she doesn’t, I hope it remains that way. At least until we find her.”

“She’ll probably call us crazy,” she sighed. Alasdair looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“You do realize you’re twins, right? It’ll be like looking in a mirror. She’ll have to believe us.”

“Even if she doesn’t believe me, I won’t leave her on her own,” Darcia admitted. “She may only be my sister by blood, but her life is also about to be destroyed.”

“Conrad said she was a hetaira,” he reminded her.

“All right, maybe her life is horrible! But she must have something good in it. Something to fight for.” Darcia shook her head. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

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