Page 21 of Heirs of the Cursed

He tugged hard on her hair, making Darcia stifle a scream. “You got inside my head,” he hissed. “I told youneverto do that in your miserable life!”

“There was nothing really interesting to see either,” Darcia said, still half choking.

When Conrad raised his hand violently, she had three seconds to brace herself before the blow came across her face, leaving a large mark and a cut on her lower lip.

“Remember your place, Darcia.” His hand gripped her throat, his fingers pressing into her skin until the air rushed out of her lungs. “If it weren’t for the money you earn, I’d have killed you long ago. And you can’t even imagine how much I would relish watching the life drain from your eyes.”

Darcia held back the plea that rose in her throat.

When the corners of her vision turned blurry, Conrad released her. She fell to the floor on her knees, where she whimpered from lack of air. At the sight of her stepbrother kneeling in front of her, she tried to recoil, to lean against the wall to protect herself . . . But Darcia barely had the strength to breathe.

“I hope this reminds you of who you are. If you keep trying to play me, I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” Conrad’s hand traveled to her hair to stroke it with a deceitful gentleness. “You know what you have to do.”

“I’m sorry,” Darcia muttered, tears of helplessness soaking her cheeks.

“That’s the way I like it.” Conrad stood up. “This month, you’ll be working double shifts at the circus for your impertinence.”

Darcia didn’t answer.

“You don’t want to know what I’m capable of if you make me lose money.”

She watched him walk out with the stealthiness of a ghost. Darcia had been carried away by reckless curiosity, forgetting his constant warnings.

When she was alone again, she finally managed to stand up. Her hand kept her lips closed together, silencing the sobs that burned her chest so that her father downstairs wouldn’t listen and find out his children’s enmity.

Yet, as she cried, Darcia vowed that one day she would take revenge on her stepbrother. When she was strong enough, she would force him to face the consequences of all the damage he had caused. She swore before the goddesses that Conrad would pay for his actions.

About to head to her bedroom, a glint outside the window caught her attention. There, where a dark shadow loomed in the first line of the woods. A jolt of fear spread through her veins, but as the moonlight revealed two green eyes, catching her in their spell, something soothed within her.

Two eyes that felt no pity, no fear, bathed in mystery.

It was an illusion. As she drew nearer to the window, desperate for a clearer look, the figure melted into the darkness, leaving nothing behind but a cold emptiness.

8

Bellmare

Through the desolate streets of Bellmare, Naithea’s heels echoed, eachclicka solitary punctuation in the empty streets. At night, most people loitered near the harbor, where taverns andinns were still warmly lit, inviting them to succumb to their most forbidden desires.

She couldn’t help but enjoy that sense of short-lived freedom. If only she were brave enough to grab her things and escape, she’d run away from the woman who held the leash around her neck.

Madame Dimond hadn’t forced her to sell her soul. She hadn’t kidnapped her in the middle of the night and made her sleep with so many men she’d lost count. Instead, she’d protected her from the debt collectors and given her achoice: to work for her in exchange for a warm bed and three meals a day.

She’d endured Madame Dimond’s punishments for years, watching her friends sob at the harsh blows of the whip as her blood soaked into the leather. Every bone in her body begged her to leave, but she hadn’t had the courage to abandon the city in which her mother had grown up, in which she’d grown up . . . To walk away from all the memories she had of her childhood and let them die for the idea of a better life.

Love was a weakness, she’d realized.

During the dark nights, Naithea wondered if love was more than that: something vulnerable to the ravages of fortune, something too fragile that could break if not cared for delicately.

She shook her head and quickened her pace, trying to escape from her own mind. The pressing need of unraveling the mystery behind the Royal Army’s presence in Bellmare urged her onward.

The farther she walked, the darker the city became, and the flickering flames of the hanging oil lamps warmed her skin against the chill of the night sky. The phantom caress of sweat slid down her spine, but Naithea ignored her feelings and followed her friend’s instructions faithfully.

Her breathing grew heavier as she noticed the small store a few steps away. There were no windows to reveal its interior, andsomething inside her stiffened at the impending darkness she glimpsed through the lock.

The door opened with a sharp creak as Naithea pressed her palm against it, upsetting her balance. Yet, with a swift adjustment, she steadied herself and scanned the quiet street for any prying eyes. Her heart raced within her chest, but she refused to let its echoing rhythm drown out her resolve.

Once she closed the door behind her, she was plunged into blackness, with only glimmers from the moon and stars creeping through the roof of the store to guide her. She wandered amidst the shelves adorned with contrivances, each one brimming with enchantments capable of unraveling the world. Conflicting emotions stirred within Naithea, but her curiosity rose above her fear as she moved forward, staring at her surroundings in awe.

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