Page 30 of Heirs of the Cursed

Naithea didn’t hesitate. Barely covered with a silk emerald robe, she dashed toward the hall to witness the hinges of the main door splintering apart. The soldiers burst inside the brothel, arresting the hearts of the hetairas. She wrapped the necklace in the palm of her hand, taking a step forward, to stop them from harming her sisters.

A brown-haired man pushed his way through his companions, his black eyes set on her. It was Fawke, the soldier who had called her ‘whore’ as if it were an insult rather than her job. Naithea tried to back away, but he was faster. The soldier grabbed her by the wrist forcefully, before dragging her along with him.

“Do you think you’ll get rid of me that easily, darling?” Soldier Biceus asked her with a devilish grin.

“Sometimes you just have to ask nicely,” she growled back, fighting against his grip.

“I thought whores liked it rough.”

Naithea resisted. “We have done nothing wrong.”

“Thea!” yelled Caisen in despair, as one of the soldiers lifted her off the ground. Her green eyes brimmed with tears that reflected nothing but fear for the fate that awaited her.

Naithea was overcome with panic as she watched each of her sisters being dragged out of the brothel in a whirlwind of screams and cries.

She needed to reach them.

Savethem.

“Let them go!” She stirred in Fawke’s muscular arms. Naithea gazed into those abyss-black eyes. “Our mistress won’t be happy when she learns what you have done. I want to speak to Leonel Ramsdean at once.”

“Oh, you will hear from him soon. Now, be obedient and move!”

Fawke Biceus dragged her all the way out, his strides so long that Naithea was barely able to keep up with him. Her boreal eyes burned with imprisoned fury when his free hand set on her ass, urging her to move faster. She could be an hetaira, a whore as he’d called her, and yet she’d never been so repulsed by a man’s touch.

By the time she found herself in the chaos of the streets, Naithea wriggled out the soldier’s grip to search for the other ten hetairas, replaying their names in her head. Grunts, screams and sobs reached her ears as she made her way through the scared citizens.

The soldiers had darkened the beautiful city of Bellmare. And despite that fire that burned inside her chest, wanting to punish them all for doing so, the citizens were right to be frightened. The army’s reputation followed them everywhere, regardless of the duration or purpose of their stay.

Naithea made her way through the people, linking arms with each of the hetairas she found disoriented and sobbing to make sure they stayed united.

Because they would face this together.

As they always had.

“Everything will be all right.” She heard Kaenna assuring her sister.

Naithea wanted to believe her.

A sigh left her lips as she found Jehanne holding Tanea, who was shaking uncontrollably. In her best friend’s amber eyes, she could see the answer to her unspoken question . . . Tanea was in bad shape, devoured by the demons that had taken her life before it had even begun.

“Do you think they will finally leave?” Jehanne asked in a whisper so that the hetaira she embraced wouldn’t hear.

Naithea shook her head. “Something tells me this is only the beginning.”

The trumpet echoed through the streets again, followed by the clattering of twenty horses kicking up dust particles behind them. The royal crest of Camdenn was carved on the black leather saddles and fluttered on the golden flags held aloft by the riders.

Three of them descended from the horses. The blades of their swords clashed against their armor, a constant clicking that reminded the citizens of their silent threat: any false move and they would lose their heads.

The bonds of Naithea’s power implored within her to be wielded.

“We bring important news from the capital!” a soldier shouted.

A wave of whispers rose, with doubts, questions and worries in every word that quieted the sound of the waves lapping the harbor. Like the hetairas, the rest of the Bellmarians were frightened by the presence of the soldiers and worried about what it might mean for them.

“A great danger lurks in our kingdom,” he proceeded in a hard, sharp voice. “A dark, ancient magic that will bring destruction to the world as we know it.”

The soldiers at their sides moved forward, all the way to the new wooden structure that hadn’t been there the day before. Jehanne held her breath, one of her hands flying to her lips, and Naithea’s boreal eyes grew wide.

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