Page 22 of Heirs of the Cursed

She lifted a necklace of pearls from the confines of a jewelry box and delicately caressed them. Under her fingertips, their lustrous surfaces warmed.

“You should put that back where it belongs,” a voice warned Naithea. The necklace slipped from her hand and fell to the floor with athud. “You don’t want to know what will happen if you’re not careful enough.”

Naithea kept her eyes open, scanning the store, which was considerably larger than it appeared at first glance. With an unsteady breath, she knelt to retrieve the necklace and carefully placed it back into the jewelry box.

“What is it?” she dared to ask.

“The pearls of Kazaris. Word has it that she enchanted them with ancient magic,” the voice explained and footsteps echoed so close to her ear that Naithea turned on her boots to find only darkness. “Whoever counts the pearls shall make a wish and the goddess of destruction will grant it.”

“And what’s the price to pay for her blessing?”

Noises of movement carried on around her, until it revealed the figure of an older man. The little hair he had left was bristly, of an orange-blond color, and where one of his eyes should have been, there was a large lump. Someone had sewn up his eyelid and burned the skin with hot wax. The other one was deep green, which resembled the woods that surrounded the city.

The man seemed to be in the last quarter of his immortality, his back hunched over with the weight of years. He rested his body on a curved staff with a sort of sphere in the center.

“Clever girl.” A yellowish grin reached his remaining eye. “Those who touch the necklace and make a wish will lose what they love most.”

“Why do you have it in your possession if that’s the case?” Naithea asked curiously.

The gaunt man kept such a disturbing answer to himself. She didn’t insist for one. Instead, Naithea’s boreal eyes shone with approval. One had to be cautious when revealing secrets . . . and certainly not trust anyone.

“What are you looking for?” he asked instead.

Naithea shrugged. “Can’t a simple hetaira be curious about dark artifacts?”

“You broke into my store in the middle of the night. Curiosity never leads that far.”

“I was informed that you prefer to attend to your customers under the protection of the moon.”

“My clients know how to find me, and you’re not one of them. I would remember a woman who hides her essence behind a boreal gem.”

Naithea’s hand flew to the necklace hanging around her neck and held the six silver-tipped star between her fingers. The borealis gemstone embedded in the center pulsed against her palm in warning.

The necklace was her most valued possession, a treasure Iseabail had discovered clasped in her little hands, the chain wrapped protectively around her. From that moment on, she’d never taken it off. It was the only link to the home she’d wondered about so many times. Yet her sadness had been replaced with resentment.

“Don’t think you can take advantage of a decrepit old man like me,” he warned her. “I may seem insignificant, but I see more than you think.”

“Then you know exactly what I’m looking for, Dyron Selmi.”

The man frowned in reflection, and Naithea wondered if he was pondering whether he should accede to the young hetaira’s wishes and answer her questions. The wisest choice was to banish her from his store and his life before she drew unwanted attention.

“Information. Is that what you crave?”

“Yes,” Naithea replied with a short nod.

“The same information you so effectively extracted from Soldier Ramsdean,” he guessed.

The hairs on her arms bristled with icy dread. It wasn’t just that she’d discussed such information only with Jehanne; it was his choice of words, as though he were aware of her magic.

“I need to know why the Royal Army is in Bellmare. There are many places in Lên Rajya, each more powerful than the last. What has brought them here?”

Dyron took a step to approach, and despite her wariness, Naithea didn’t back down. “King Kirus didn’t only lead his army here, but also to the rest of the cities.”

“Why?” she asked again, intrigued.

“I thought that information was already in your possession.”

Naithea thought about her next move. There was nothing she wanted more than to return to the safety of the brothel. But no place was safe anymore. Not when the Royal Army prowledthe city with an air of entitlement, aware that they wielded the weapons capable of killing them all, almost yearning for a reason to do so.

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