Page 132 of Heirs of the Cursed

Upon returning from her failed mission, she’d been locked up under the Fiend’s orders.

Wanting to look for her sisters, she’d snuck out of the bedroom, only to be stopped by men in dark uniforms with dozens of weapons hanging from their belts. The same men who now stood outside her door. Naithea was disturbed to see their gaunt faces, as if they’d survived combat after combat and hundreds of swords had cut into their flesh until it became jagged and misshapen. The foul stench coming from the rashes spreading across their skin churned her guts.

Her gaze lingered a little longer on the crystal necklaces that tightened around their throats: menessbane necklaces, a magic that hadn’t been seen—nor heard of—in decades.

The sound of footsteps prompted Naithea towards the door to see who it was. She dropped to her knees, ready to use the hairpins in her hair to undo the lock, just as Regnera had taught her when they were the youngest hetairas in the brothel. Yet, herhope died when she noticed through the small gap that a chain had been set in place.

“Were the chains necessary?” Madame Dimond asked with a snort. “Do you know how many vramnias those doors cost? They are made of the finest oak in all of Laivalon.”

“The Fiend’s orders.”

“If you’re going to destroy my property, I at least deserve to know why.”

The men looked at each other. “Our master is on his way from Dawnfall.”

“That’s months before the scheduled visit. We won’t get the money he wants on such short notice. Much less if you have my best hetaira locked up!”

“You can keep the money, Madame Dimond,” one of the men said. “But the hetaira is coming with us.”

Naithea’s body boiled with warning.

“Yourmastermust be out of his mind if he thinks I’ll allow it.”

“Do you know what the king would do if he found out that you had given refuge to a traitor?”

“And what would the king of Lên Rajya want with a whore from Bellmare?” Madame Dimond asked in confusion.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” the mistress growled.

“The princess the army has been looking for all along has always been right under your nose. And the other, well . . . She attacked our master and escaped. The Chaser and his army are looking for her, and so are many others whose existence you are unaware of.”

The other one.

Her sister.

Meissa.

She didn’t know her, and yet she couldn’t help but be relieved to learn that she’d accomplished what Naithea had been unableto do: escape. She’d even attacked the very man who was traveling to Bellmare to do who knew what with her. Well, Naithea hoped he had a scar on his disgusting face for what he’d done to Jehanne.

And when she found Meissa Boreaalinen, they would do so much more. Together, they would bring the world to their knees and end those who had wronged them.

The creaking of the windows in Madame Dimond’s room caught Naithea’s attention, who was still lying on the floor with her back pressed against the door.

She’d been unable to get up. Not after hearing about her sister, how their lives were in danger and about the imminent doom that would befall Laivalon if they were delivered to Kirus Allencort.

For they could be its salvation or its doom.

Naithea’s fingers trembled around the hilt of the sword as she rose from the floor to face the shadow that moved across the room. When she spotted the figure, she swung her weapon, ready to kill whoever had dared to come after her. Yet the man moved quickly, avoiding the sharp blade descending upon him.

The melodic sound of metal against metal flooded Naithea’s ears, one she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed until now. The man took a step forward and allowed her a glimpse of his face.

“Leonel,” she gasped. “Have you come here to finish what your commander started?”

“No, Thea.”

“I find it hard to believe you, if not impossible.”

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