Page 23 of Heirs of the Cursed

“What do you want in return?” Naithea offered, even though experience had taught her that deals were a dangerous thing.

“Neither you nor anyone else has what I want yet,” the man replied, taking another step toward her.

He paused to touch the rectangular iron frame of the painting hanging on the wall, which glowed under his touch. Naithea watched as the light slipped through Dyron’s fingers and drew the silhouettes and shadows of the artifacts around her.

“However, what are you willing to give me? Your voice?” he asked with a wicked grin tugging at his broken, blackened lips. “That dangerous power of yours that you fear so much?”

“Never,” she uttered.

Apart from the necklace, her magic was the only thing that belonged to her. The only thing that no one had managed to take from her in all those years of suffering, pain and loss. The only thing that would be hers for the rest of eternity.

“Don’t worry, child. I need your gift exactly where it is.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, shielding herself from the sudden chill that seeped into her bones. Naithea’s heart skipped a beat at his response. His statement contained information woven between loops of secrecy, but she wasn’t certain if she wanted to ask questions about the meaning behind it.

“Then why did the king deploy his armies?” she questioned.

“As you well know, he seeks two souls that were stolen before the curse doomed Ro’i Rajya,” Dyron provided a truthful answer.

“Why is he so interested in those two souls?”

“Wouldn’t you be interested if it had taken the life of your newborn child?”

Naithea’s eyes widened, and the rest of her body froze. But her mind raced as she searched through her memories.

The news of Queen Demira’s pregnancy and the seventh heir to the throne had been a great cause for celebration throughout the cities. She remembered making more money than she had in years due to the presence of the king’s heralds in Bellmare. Still, she didn’t recall hearing about the child’s birth or the announcement of his name.

Naithea drew calculations, trying to remember the season in which she’d heard about the queen’s pregnancy.

And then, she knew.

King Kirus’ child should have been born around this time.

Ideas began to sprout in her mind, some more disturbing than others, but all plausible. What Leonel had witnessed in Ro’i Rajya had been so dreadful that the king had opted to send his most lethal warriors throughout the kingdom. The expression on his face as he relived those terrible moments in the Fallen Kingdom should have been all the warning she needed.

“The holly of death,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen it with my own eyes, but its presence can only mean that something bad looms ahead.”

“There are many hidden curses in the world, some more dangerous than others. The fate of this one in particular is intertwined with the power held by those souls you have heard so much about.”

Her heart echoed in her ears as she commanded, “Tell me who they are.”

From the look on Dyron’s face, Naithea deduced that revealing that information was dangerous, and that the wizard had worked too hard to jeopardize everything. It was the hetaira’s impatience, or perhaps the benevolence of the goddesses, that compelled him to respond.

“The Dark Twins.”

“That . . .” Naithea shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. “That’s impossible. If the cursed princesses of the Fallen Kingdom aren’t locked up, that would mean . . .”

“That they’ve been missing for the last twenty-one years,” Dyron finished for her.

“Where are they?”

The old man turned his back to her. “Have a good night, Miss Utari.”

9

Dawnfall

Circus shows rarely opened with fireworks, but that night, with the presence of the king’s soldiers, Conrad would spare no expense.

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