Page 141 of Heirs of the Cursed

Naithea turned around, shaking her head. “Je . . .”

“You can’t make this decision for me.”

“It’s not safe,” she remarked in an attempt to convince her to stay on the ship.

“You’re not doing this alone, Thea. I refuse to let you!”

Naithea looked at her sisters, who clung to each other as they watched one of their own make her first decision as a free woman. There was both pride and fear in their eyes.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Blood or not, you are my best friend.My sister. You won’t be left on your own.”

They cast one last glance at their sisters before departing, mingling among the lights and shadows of a city that would soon drown in the stench of death.

With dawn nipping at their heels, Naithea and her friends slipped through the streets of Bellmare to evade her enemies, until they reached the store of black magic artifacts. Dyron Selmi’s store was the safest place in the city for them to gathersupplies and later on depart for Hamleigh. And, from there . . . they would head to Dawnfall.

Naithea’s chest rose and fell in agitation by the time they stopped in front of the tall doors. Beside her, Jehanne gripped her bag tightly as she scanned the surrounding streets in search of voices from those who were after them.

“We split up here,” she said.

“No, you need me!” Leonel argued.

“I need you exactly where you are. If you come with me, you would be deserting the position the Crown has bestowed upon you and only the goddesses know what atrocities they would do to you.”

Leonel took a step toward her and held her face in his hands. “Promise me that you will find a way to communicate with me. No matter the danger, no matter the cost, come to me and I’ll protect you.”

“You’re a good friend, Leonel,” Naithea whispered as she embraced him, unable to promise him such things.

She broke away from him and nodded towards Jehanne, who pushed the door open before disappearing inside. She followed her shortly after without looking back. If she did, the weight of all those she was trying to save by keeping them away from her would bring her to her knees.

When Naithea closed the door, her throat tickled with the smell of smoke that had choked the cool air, followed by a sour taste of burnt flesh and blood. She walked around the store, alert and silent, scanning through the unusual blackness. Dyron always lit candles to illuminate the rooms, but yet as she paced, she feared treading upon something of great value.

“Je?”

Silence responded to her, but it was soon shattered by Jehanne’s screams.

Naithea ran toward her sister, shards of broken glass crunching beneath her boots. The pungent stench of decay halted her at the archway, where Jehanne stood with her hands clasped over her lips. She stifled her own scream, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat at the sight of the source of the stench.

There, among the artifacts, hung Dyron Selmi’s body.

His hands were tied to the wooden beam supporting the ceiling, blood dripping from his wrists and throat until every inch of his clothes were stained with it. There were cuts on every part of his body—even in his one healthy eye.

His skin was burned, scorched . . . The soldiers had burned him alive.

Because ofher.

She took a trembling step forward to cut the rope that held him. The hiss of her dagger echoed in her ears as Dyron collapsed lifelessly to the ground. It wasn’t pain or tears that burned in her eyes, but a searing fury coursing through her veins at the unspoken warning that his death conveyed.

The Commander of Death was after her and would stop at nothing until he found her, even if it meant burning the world to ashes.

39

Saevus Forest

Though they’d planned to reach Bellmare in a week and a half, they didn’t resume their journey until the soldiers and Conrad’s dogs were far away.

For the next three days, Darcia prepared another ointment that Caeli once taught her with flowers and plants from the forest, helping him exercise his torso to improve his mobility. Eventually, the wound became a horrible scar and Alasdair felt strong enough to keep moving.

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