Page 135 of Heirs of the Cursed

Alasdair nodded. “And rags. They’re in the small pocket.”

Lykeios handed Darcia the satchel with his paw. With trembling fingers, she carefully separated the linen rags and laid them on her lap, washing her hands with rainwater before rubbing the ointment between her fingertips. When she looked up, she saw Alasdair’s emerald eyes watching her closely.

“What?”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Darcia rolled her eyes. “The wound must be infected.”

“Maybe.”

She ignored him again, carefully pulling his clothes away from the wound until his torso was completely exposed. Darcia noticed the ink marks that decorated his body. The drawings were slightly smeared with blood, but she could still make out each one of them: a snake on his left side rising up to his chest, a howling wolf on his right, and some sort of beam balance with two skulls on his left shoulder.

With precious care, she began to stroke the wound, frowning ruefully each time Alasdair gasped in pain.

Alasdair began to relax as the tingle of the natural clay soothed the burning wound. Lykeios moved to his side, lying down next to him and resting his head on his thigh. The rest of the wolves stayed near the entrance, watching for the arrival of any danger.

“I need you to stand up straight,” Darcia said when she finished. “I’m going to put the rags on you.”

“You’re good at giving orders,” Alasdair sneered. “You were certainly born to be a princess.”

“Are you really going to make jokes when you’re in this state?”

“I told you it wasn’t that deep a cut.”

“That’s why you have blacked out all the way here, isn’t it?” Darcia ironized, crossing her arms over her breasts.

“Maybe I planned all this for you to touch me.”

“I should have let you bleed to death,” she threatened him.

“I’m sure you would have.”

Alasdair remained silent as she bandaged him. Darcia noticed his eyes droop with fever and the redness of his cheeks. No matter how bad he felt, he wouldn’t protest. He was a proud man, with a strong will to stay alive.

She’d once considered him a mystery, but Darcia had been observant. She’d become aware of how he swirled the rings on his fingers while he thought in silence, as if the movements cleared his mind. He had a habit of sleeping on his side, his handclutching his dagger so tightly Darcia wondered if he’d ever felt safe. Whenever he got angry, his lower lip slightly twitched and his fists clenched involuntarily.

Darcia finished putting the bandage on the wound and helped him lie down. He settled back against the cloak she’d laid out and sighed with exhaustion.

When she looked down at her hands and saw the blood, her mind tortured her with images of Caeli lying on the stage floor as the circus burned around them. She’d learned to hold back the tears, even when they were willing to bring her down. But a colder and stronger feeling kept her moving, and that was the desire of revenge. When she found her sister, they would join forces and face whatever fate the Triad had planned for them.

One of the wolves stood up with a yawn and approached Darcia. She looked at the animal with confusion as it sat down next to her.

“If they wanted to hurt you, they would have done it by now,” Alasdair told her in a breathy whisper. When Darcia dug her hand into the shiny brown fur, the she-wolf allowed her to pet its back in silence and Alasdair smiled. “Protected by wolves . . . Surely, goddess Kazaris stands with you.”

Darcia looked into those familiar emerald eyes that made her feel safe. “How do you know that?”

“The legend tells that Kazaris fell in love with a wolf shifter. An impossible love.” Alasdair stirred and winced, but his mouth produced no complaint. “The laws of magic couldn’t allow a goddess and a dryad to be together. But Kazaris, with the help of her twin Kuheia, did everything she could to break those laws and be with the man she loved.”

“And could she?” Darcia asked.

“She could, for a while. It’s said that the Anam Cara bond was born from them. That she created it so as not to be separated from the love of her life. No one knew what really happenedbetween them. Rumor has it that it was a curse of nature itself, or perhaps imposed by someone else. The shifter was doomed to be a wolf for all eternity and the goddess had to say goodbye to him forever.” Alasdair gestured toward the wolf pack. “Somehow you and I were destined to meet.”

“It seems to me that meeting me has only cursed you.”

“My life was already cursed, gorgeous. Being here, with you, is my choice.”

Before Darcia could say otherwise, Alasdair fell back asleep. She curled up next to him, attentive to his breathing and the way his chest rose and fell heavily, hoping tomorrow would be a better day.

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