Page 49 of Heirs of the Cursed

Naithea trembled. It was her fault. For lying to her about her whereabouts, for dragging her sisters into her deception . . . For believing that Madame Dimond wasn’t witty and clever enough to notice her absence for several consecutive days. For betraying her after all she had done for her.

You’re an ungrateful wretch.

Those words, which her mistress kept repeating over the years, were pierced into her soul, and Naithea had begun to believe them to be true.

“I was taking a walk.”

“You’re lying,” she snarled.

Naithea swallowed. “I swear by the Triad.”

Madame Dimond grabbed her jaw roughly and dug her nails into her cheeks. “Where’s my goddamned money, Naithea?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my mistress. I gave you everything I have collected the last few nights.”

The madam sneered, and all the hetairas shrank back. “Do you think that I don’t know that you take some silver vramnias to satisfy your filthy pleasures? Do you think I’m foolish enough not to have spies all over this damned brothel?”

“N-No,” Naithea responded, cursing herself inwardly for not being careful enough.

“Tanea, step forward,” she ordered.

The hetaira’s brown eyes were wet with tears and her fingers tore at the skin surrounding her worn fingernails.

“I’m sorry,” she gestured with her lips so that no one would hear.

Naithea gave her a reassuring smile. She was aware that Tanea had had no choice. Her boreal eyes scanned the exposed parts of her friend’s pale skin and sighed upon seeing no wounds or bruises.

“Repeat the story for me, will you?” Madame Dimond said with a viper’s kindness. “From the beginning.”

“I . . .”

“Now!”

Tanea closed her eyes tightly. “A few weeks ago, Naithea came to my room with a gift,” she said in a trembling voice.

“The whole story,” she demanded.

“It was a vial that contained a herb so I could rest. She said it had cost her four silver vramnias, my mistress.”

“And where did she get that money from?” she asked, though there was no answer. Madame Dimond released Naithea’s face and turned to strike Tanea. “Where did she get the bloody money!”

The hetaira sobbed and shrank among her sisters. “When I asked her how she could afford it, Thea admitted to having a stash of vramnias hidden in the straw of her mattress. To pay off her debt to you and be free.”

“Free,” Madame Dimond repeated, savoring the word on her lips. “I gave you a roof to sleep under and food to feed your bony ass, whore. And this is how you repay me?”

You’re an ungrateful wretch.

The words replayed in her mind as the belt lashed her ribs. Naithea fell forward and brought a hand to the spot where the blow had pierced her flesh.

Madame Dimond grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back for Naithea to meet her enraged brown eyes.

“You may dream of your freedom, but in this world you belong to me and always will,” she growled against her black hair. “Do you know what they do with thieves like you?”

Through unshed tears, Naithea caught a glimpse of men lurking in the shadows at the entrance. She noticed the gleam of unyielding armor and sharp swords. Six soldiers of the Royal Army watched her intently, but only two midnight-blue eyes glowed with conflicted feelings as Naithea sank into them.

With each blow that fell upon the hetaira, Ward could feel his blood boil with the voracity of a sword being forged.

That morning, the commander had given specific orders to split into small groups to cover as much of Bellmare’s territory as possible in order to return to the capital before it was too late. Before Princess Davina died in the clutches of a curse that had taken root in Lên Rajya.

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