Page 128 of Heirs of the Cursed

Alasdair reached for her hand and handed her the dagger, the familiarity of his touch making her skin tingle. She looked up to meet his mesmerizing green eyes.

“From this moment on, this is your life, and you must protect it. You’ll have to make hard decisions, some worse than others. The world is cruel, especially when there are people who decide whether you deserve to live in it.”

“I’m very aware of my decisions,” she said.

“Good. Because fate has granted you back the power of choice. If you really want to be free, you’ll have to be the one to dictate the course of your own story. Not your stepbrother, not your father, not the family you’ve never known . . . But you.”

Darcia looked down at the dagger again, where Alasdair’s hand lingered dangerously close.

“Don’t let them take your future away from you, gorgeous. It’s the only thing that truly belongs to you.”

“You speak of it as if your life is no longer yours.”

Alasdair’s gaze suddenly turned glacial, as though Darcia had struck a chord. The thief pulled his hand away.

“There are many things that don’t belong to me anymore,” was the last thing he said, as he laid back on the bed with his back to her.

Alasdair’s survival instincts woke him with a jolt. He sat up in the stiff mattress where Darcia still slept beside him, ragged breathing marking the rhythm of her racing heartbeat. She hadn’t wanted to get in his mind to rest, nor had he forced her to. She seemed willing to overcome her nightmares on her own.

Darcia was broken, but she was good. She was brave, stubborn, beautiful, and good despite everything that had been taken from her.

Careful not to wake her up, he climbed out of the bed. Drops of sweat trickled down the back of his neck and his forehead,stirring his brown hair. He approached the window with silent steps, only to pull away as distant noises that mimicked the cold wind whipping through the branches of the ash trees reached his ears.

Followed by horses’ hooves and iron armor.

Alasdair rushed to the bed, shaking Darcia to wake her up.

“We have to go,now!”

She didn’t ask any questions. Darcia stood up with a pained grimace and hurriedly grabbed all her belongings before throwing her cloak over her shoulders and covering her face with the hood. Alasdair soon did the same.

“We’ll have to go out through the stable,” he informed her before looking at her again. “How do you feel about climbing?”

Darcia shook her head, lowering her eyes to her injured arm. “I don’t think I can.”

“Then we’ll have to run.”

With no time to waste, Alasdair grabbed her hand and guided her toward the door. He reached for the pommel, the hinges of the door creaking as he opened it. A dimly lit hall greeted him, offering them a secure passage. He urged her to move and they hurriedly walked through the darkness, out into the cold night and into the vastness of the forest.

Alasdair moved forward first, securing each step so that Darcia was safe.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

“Yes,” Darcia said.

Liar, Alasdair thought to himself.

He led her through the trees until they found a path covered with moss, rocks and frost. They slipped a couple of times on the icy mud that lined it, but Alasdair moved faster with the horse hooves at their heels.

At the sight of a shadow approaching, Alasdair and Darcia ducked.

“Shit,” he cursed.

“Little princess,” a deep voice crooned. “Come out, wherever you are.”

Darcia trembled with trepidation. “They are looking for me.”

“Quiet, gorgeous. If her Royal Highness doesn’t want us to be found, we won’t be,” Alasdair whispered, teasing her with her title.

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