Page 106 of Heirs of the Cursed

Killian knew how she felt. He’d privately consulted the Healer of Weapons about her magic, and when Osmond had voiced the possibility of dark blood coursing through Naithea’s veins, he paced his tent, devising a plan to keep her safe—even if it meant a life on the run with her. His father could torture and punish him for the rest of eternity, but he wouldn’t let the same fate to befall her.

He wanted to murder Fawke Biceus with his bare hands for putting Naithea in danger because of his arrogance and bloodlust.

“It’s not uncommon, love. Many people have strange magic because of their ancestry. The fact that yours has never been seen before doesn’t mean anything. Only that your herseki, your light magic, hasn’t been fully understood yet. What do you remember of your parents?”

“Not much. My mother died when I was a child. She got sick until every bone in her body splintered.” Naithea’s voice broke as she averted her gaze to the powerful waves to soothe her thoughts with its roar. “I remember not being able to hold her.”

Killian wanted to ease the pain in her heart, in her soul. There was so much agony and guilt in those boreal eyes that he so admired. Yet the prince refrained himself from doing so, afraid that the mere touch would push her away. Naithea was determined, but also stubborn, and he knew better than most how much she hated to be seen as weak . . .

“The healers . . .”

She raised her gaze toward Killian, filled with undecipherable emotions. “They refused to save her. I sold some of our thingsso I could pay for their services and ease her pain, but even that didn’t help.”

“Where was your father?”

“He abandoned us,” Naithea said immediately. “I don’t even remember his face.”

“If he was a daimon, maybe his magic was powerful enough for you to inherit it. Perhaps that’s why you are unable to control it. Many of the Two Bloods born in Lên Rajya have been abandoned for that reason.”

It was also why they were taking so long to bring the Dark Twins out into the open, but Killian didn’t utter it aloud.

“If that’s true, he can have it back if he wants,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her body. “I don’t want it.”

“When did your magic first manifest?”

“In the streets. I couldn’t control it until it was too late,” Naithea admitted, trembling.

That brought a momentary relief in Killian’s mind, but even then he asked the question to which he was so afraid of the answer, “And before?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s strange,” he said. “Do you remember getting sick as a child, when your magic manifested?”

There was an eternal pause before Naithea deigned to respond.

“Is this an interrogation,Prince Killian?”

His body froze in place at the sound of his name in Naithea’s lips.

She knew it. Somehow, she’d figured it out.

The pain in Naithea’s face was worse than any stab wound. The tears that swirled in her eyes, the vein that throbbed in her forehead to contain her emotions, and the way her hands closed around her body as if she feared for her life, almost got him to his knees.

“Naithea, let me explain . . .”

But she was already gone, tearing down forever everything they had built.

29

Dawnfall

Darcia didn’t know how long she stood in front of the forest. Saying goodbye to Gion had been like tearing out her heart from her chest.

In another time, she would have wanted to be alone, dealing with her worst thoughts and emotions because she didn’t want to feel like a burden to anyone. But at that moment, Alasdair stayed, holding her tightly and stroking her hair in silence.

Her father was gone. Her stepbrother hated her. She couldn’t find her friends, or Caeli.

And Darcia was all alone.

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