Page 98 of Heirs of the Cursed

“By the Triad, be smart! If you go without a plan, they’ll tie you up without a second thought, and then there’s nothing you can do to help her.”

Despair grew in her body, mixed with fear. Fear of losing everything she had, everything she cared about. When Alasdair was sure she wasn’t going to run away, he released her but didn’t step back.

Something inside her beat unrestrainedly, and Darcia raised her hand to the necklace hanging around her neck, unsure if it was the boreal gem or her own heart.

“Darcia, you’re smarter than this.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Come to your senses,” he insisted. “For your sake and that of the people you love.”

The tension that coursed through Darcia’s body subsided as Alasdair stepped forward. His hands gently squeezed her shoulders and his intense emerald eyes held her for a moment. The knot in her chest almost caused her to fold from the pain, making her forget about the soldiers, Dawnfall, the goddesses, and Laivalon . . .

An archaic feeling coursed through her body and settled in her heart. A burning, dark and dangerous feeling that latched onto in her soul.

Darcia was the first to pull away.

“I must go.”

Alasdair snorted irritably. “Do you care that much about the purity of your heart?”

“That’s what makes us different,” she stated, but regretted uttering those words after seeing conflicted emotions in his gaze.

Through the city, an inhuman shriek rang out, catching Alasdair’s attention. A big mistake, for Darcia broke free from his grip and ran toward the city.

“Darcia, no!”

Despite the sound of his steps behind her, she didn’t stop. She broke through the edge of the forest and up the great slope that separated the lushness of the trees from the rest of the sandstone and weathered wood buildings. The streets were so empty Darcia feared the worst.

As she was about to reach the square, Alasdair grabbed her wrist once more and dragged her into an alley, where the shadows cloaked them. He was about to scold her, and she to insult him, but they both restrained their urge to pick a fight at the sight of Harg Koller strolling close by.

He was clad in silver armor, the crest of Camdenn sewn in the center of his bright cape. His sword was unsheathed, held low to the ground. The screeching sound the metal made against the cobblestones was the symphony of death, along with the unrestrained wailing of Dawnfall’s inhabitants.

By the fountain, many people stood in fear. There were trails of blood pooling on the floor, windows, and walls. A sob rose in her throat, but Alasdair was there to gently cover her mouth with his gloved hand to stifle her tears before they could hear her.

The Royal Army soldiers pounded on the doors and shouted. When they got no response, they broke the hinges, forcing their way in and dragging the people inside to the square.

“Someone in this filthy, rotten city,” the Chaser began, “is hiding a cursed princess.”

Harg, who had been kind, was now someone she didn’t recognize.

Witnessing the violence and suffering, Darcia whipped angrily and dropped to the ground when her eyes found a few children crying in the corner of the square. Instinctively, she reached for the thief’s grip and Alasdair held her in his arms.

“Stay calm.”

“They don’t deserve this . . .”

Alasdair held her tighter, as if that would keep Darcia from falling any further.

“An act of treason has been committed against the Crown and our king,” the Chaser resumed. “If you don’t surrender at once, I’ll take it upon myself to tear you apart and scatter your limbs all over Laivalon until the world forgets your names.”

A wave of murmurs swept through the square.

“You have two hours or else Dawnfall will burn. And I won’t leave any survivors.”

Harg’s words cut hard into Darcia’s chest.

A promise.

---