Page 122 of Heirs of the Cursed

With difficulty, Darcia rose to her feet.

“Where are you going?”

“To find my sister.”

“What?” Alasdair moved quickly toward her. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“If Conrad was being honest, her life is in as much danger as mine. I can’t let that happen.”

“Don’t you realize that’s just what they expect you to do?”

Darcia faced him, her tear-filled eyes a reflection of how broken she was.

How broken she felt.

“I’m not going to let Conrad get away with it. After what he’s done to me, after taking away my . . .” Her voice broke. “I’mgoing to find my sister, and then I’m going to kill him, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Alasdair hesitated. He set the ointment down among his few belongings and stared at the wolf, who was curiously and patiently waiting for his next move.

“All right, then, let’s pack up,” he said in a soft, cautious voice. “We’ll leave in fifteen minutes.”

“Weare leaving?” Darcia asked in confusion. “Together?”

He walked over to the satchel and shook off the fragments of leaves that clung to it. “Since they’re looking for both of us to kill us, it’s a little wiser to have some company to drown our sorrows with.”

“Even if the company is insufferable?”

Alasdair smiled again. “I heard those are the best kind.”

As rain washed over Lên Rajya hours later, Darcia and Alasdair found an inn hidden among the trees to spend the night. The innkeeper asked no questions, merely accepting the gold vramnias Alasdair handed him before providing them a key along with a candlestick to guide them up the stairs.

She’d never slept anywhere other than her bed, the stables, or the circus. Being so far away from everything that was familiar to her was unsettling. It wasn’t freedom, but some of those chains had broken somehow.

And that had cost her everything.

Alasdair filled the brass tub with hot water for Darcia, in which she stayed for what felt like hours, inspecting the number of bruises in her skin. A vague and ghostly reminder of all she’d suffered, and a promise that they would be the last she’d ever receive.

In the comfort of the small chamber, she held her girlfriend’s bracelet between her fingers and allowed herself to cry. She didn’t want to say goodbye to Caeli and to that part of her that had tended her soul. It had all happened so fast, and she was now forced to come to terms with it. But not everyone had the ability to understand loneliness.

Darcia looked at her dress hanging on a chair. The light green color had become a scarlet garment that exuded pain, loss and guilt. It had been her fault. Everything that had happened to Dawnfall, what had happened to Caeli . . .

Her fault.

As she emerged from the bathroom, Darcia’s eyes were still puffy. Alasdair was waiting for her, laying in the only bed in the room. He’d gotten her some black slacks and a baggy, frayed shirt. Darcia was grateful that he had. She wouldn’t have been able to put that dress back on no matter how many times she washed it to erase the remnants of blood.

She walked over to the bed and, before she sat down, Alasdair pushed the covers aside for her to climb in.

“Would you like something to eat?”

Darcia shook her head. She tucked herself in and rested her head on the pillow, staring at the rain pattering against the thin glass. A repetitive, endless sound. Alasdair lay down as well.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She closed her eyes tightly. If she spoke, she’d cry, and she didn’t want to break down again.

Minutes passed, but Darcia still couldn’t fall asleep. The darkness in her mind attracted all the traumatic events of that night. The fire, the blood, the loss . . .

But she had to face it.

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