Page 142 of Heirs of the Cursed

The wolves, along with Lykeios, hunted for food, bringing back leftover deer or rabbit, which Darcia and Alasdair ate raw, unable to risk lighting bonfires that could reveal their position. Once the storm subsided, the pack watched them depart, remaining behind.

Saevus Forest grew denser with every step they took, and the farther she got from Dawnfall, a strange feeling of freedom washed over her. A feeling she hated, and yet she was strangely relieved by, for her home did nothing but remind her of what she had lost . . .

Darcia looked up at the night sky, her lips falling into a grimace as she noticed that the stars had disappeared. During the last few days, the cold had been frigid, almost unbearable, and even the trunks of the trees had frozen due to the low temperatures. She kept walking, raising her arms close to her chest to keep warm.

“They say that on the last night of the year, the stars disappear from this plane and shine brightest in the Fallen Kingdom,” Alasdair said.

In Ro’i Rajya.

The kingdom to which she belonged.

Her real home.

“And yet, we are still days away from it,” she said uninterested, cutting the lower branches of a bush to clear the path.

“We are. The Feast of Lights and Shadows announces the beginning of a new year, a new fate. And on the night of the Dark Twins’ birth, the goddesses doomed everyone with a curseof shadows and stone,” Alasdair explained, his attention fixed on her.

Darcia stopped dead in her tracks with a blank stare. “So tomorrow is my twenty-second birthday.”

Alasdair nodded.

She’d always believed that her birthday was in the ninth month of the year, around autumn, the characteristic season that filled the streets of the city in which she’d grown up with brightness. Her name, her lineage, her birthday . . . There were so many lies she didn’t want to face.

“When is yours?” Darcia asked him. She resumed her walk as Lykeios approached, offering her the comfort she needed.

Alasdair pushed aside a few branches and bushes. “If I told you, you’d laugh.”

“I promise not to.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said. Darcia urged him with her eyes. “The Night of the Holy Dead.”

She couldn’t help herself and let out a low chuckle.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh.”

“This has got to be a silly joke! The Night of the Dead, really?”

“What? Something good had to come out of a night where people dance in the name of lost souls and sad memories.”

“And you’re that good thing?” She fought the smile that tugged at her lips.

“Don’t you agree?”

“May the goddesses have mercy on me,” Darcia scoffed. Alasdair tapped her gently on the shoulder and she finally smiled. They walked a little longer in silence, until she added, “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday.”

“It was the night we met,” he admitted as they looked into each other’s eyes. “Though, at the time, all you wanted to do was slit my throat.”

“What makes you think that’s not what I want now?”

Alasdair spun with elegance, his imposing figure filling the space between him and Darcia until she could do nothing but look up to meet his eyes. The dangerous closeness made her hold her breath.

“Do you want to kill me, gorgeous?” he asked with a feline grin.

Darcia raised the dagger she held in her hand, her eyes locked in his. “Don’t tempt me.”

Taking a step back, she led the rest of the way as Alasdair told her amusing stories of his past to make her feel better. For a brief moment, the weight on her shoulders lifted. There was no pain, no guilt, no remorse . . . Darcia pushed all her fears and intrusive thoughts to the back of her mind, wanting to erase those feelings that tried to push her down.

Distant lights rose over the forest, snapping her attention away from the thief and onto the path ahead. Darcia sucked in air and a soft gasp rose in her throat as the scent of salty water washed over her, mingling with the wind.

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