Page 139 of Heirs of the Cursed

She did so before settling into the proper position. Parallel feet, both pointing forward, right foot in front of the left.

Her boreal eyes glared at the man and he glared back at her, little threatened by the sword. Naithea slashed the air, aiming for his arm, but he moved before she could hurt him. And then the dance of attack and defense began.

The man lunged forward, ready to catch her.

Yet Naithea was quicker and cut his flesh with a simple twist of the wrist.

The man growled with rage. She dodged the first blow from his fists, the second as well, but it was on the third that the Fiend’sdog disarmed her and grabbed her by the throat, slamming her against the wall.

“You’re not laughing anymore, are you?” he asked with a cold laugh.

Naithea showed her teeth. “Bite me.”

“I’d be glad to, but I have more important orders to carry out.”

“What do you want in exchange for my release? Gold?” Naithea gasped. “I can get it for you.”

“The satisfaction I’ll feel when your body hangs lifeless on the walls of Camdenn is greater than any sum of money you can offer me.”

“Your loss, big guy,” a voice replied.

Then Leonel drove his sword through the dog’s chest.

Naithea’s eyes widened as she noticed the sharp point protruding from the man, threatening to cut her chin. Dark blood trickled down in thick streams and stained his attire, but there was no pain on his face.

He abruptly let go of Naithea, slamming her against a nearby wall until she felt her bones creak within her. She tried to get up, to attack again, to help her friend. . . Together, they should be able to beat him.

Her hands, stained the color of blood from scrapes and wounds, betrayed her. Naithea fell back to the ground in pain. She crawled across the gravel in search of her sword as she witnessed the fight between two different kinds of warriors: one created by a fraud, and the other, by the Crown.

The Fiend’s dog was bigger than any dryad she’d ever known. Not even Prince Killian was that tall. He rose above Leonel, fighting against him with his own hands, much more lethal than any weapon.

She couldn’t see her friend fall, not when he’d betrayed the kingdom to help her save the one she’d lost.

Inside her soul, that familiar warmth she’d worked so hard to repress tingled with warning. Her magic, one her sisters lacked, twirled inside her to fight her commands. The monster that had killed people to protect her, even innocent ones.

‘Release me.’

“Leo, cover your ears!” was all she said.

“What?” Leonel shouted, dodging the man’s attacks.

“Now!”

The soldier did as he was ordered, trusting his friend. Trusting the daimon who had managed to escape the curse of shadows and stone, the princess who was to reclaim her right to the throne.

Then Naithea closed her eyes and sang.

Each note broke through like a ribbon of blue, green, and purple smoke in search of its prey. It felt different from the other times she’d summoned her power. Perhaps it was because she now knew where it came from, or because the monster inside her was no longer feared.

‘Get inside his head.’

‘Kill him.’

A song of doom and death embraced the man, trapping him under its spell as his eyes turned white like hers.

At first, Naithea’s magic manifested so that people couldn’t flee while she stole the vramnias from their pockets. Before that, she’d killed three men without even lifting a finger, to protect her mother. Naithea didn’t know which one it would be: defense or attack. Let him live or kill him.

She pushed herself up from the floor, hands braced against the wall, and fixed her white gaze on Leonel. He rose from the ground, careful not to leave his ears exposed to the song of the Siren of Doom as he walked toward her.

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