Page 31 of Heirs of the Cursed

There were stairs leading up to a small platform with a hollow square in the middle. Two wooden logs stood up and were held together by a third log that had been nailed over them. From it, four ropes hung, their ends forming an adjustable circle.

They had built agallows.

A collective gasp rose in the air. Some citizens recoiled, meeting the hard chests of the soldiers who shoved them back into place. Others, trembled nervously, their eyes steady on the ground. But all Naithea could do was watch the machinery.

“In the name of the king, those who harbor the Dark Twins will be sentenced to death for treason against the Crown!”

Naithea barely heard the soldier reporting that several platoons of the Royal Army would investigate the main cities until the princesses were found. She only had eyes for the gallows, and the man that stood beside it.

Dyron Selmi raised a wrinkled hand and brought his index finger to his lips, but there was no fear on his face. Only amusement, as if the presence of the soldiers was the most entertaining thing he’d witnessed in years.

When the announcement was over, the citizens scattered, taking their children in their arms before running to the protection their homes offered. Still, no wall or gate would stop the soldiers from breaking in and hunting down anyone who posed a threat to the Allencort empire.

“Ausra!”

Naithea wiped away the icy sweat that trickled down her neck, convincing herself that it was due to the temperature of the late summer and not her fear. Jehanne, who was walking away from the square alongside their sisters to put distance between them and the instrument of death, gave her a sidelong glance for her to follow them back to the brothel. But Naithea couldn’t ignore the summons of a soldier.

She pressed her hand against her chest to keep the robe in place, feeling vulnerable and exposed with every step she took toward the soldier. The weapons hanging from Leonel’s waist, like those of his companions, reminded her that she cherished her life despite her best attempts to be fearless.

“Soldier Ramsdean.” She made a small bow and forced a tight-lipped smile. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“I was hoping to see you again,” he said kindly, offering his hand.

Naithea extended hers, and the soldier kissed the back of it.

Behind him, someone laughed dryly at his response. Of all the soldiers she’d had the displeasure of dealing with, Leonel was the kindest, so different from the rest of the king’s legion of assassins. Naithea swept her gaze over the four men waiting at a short distance.

“So you’re the hetaira Leo has been occupying his time with,” one of them pointed out. His brown eyes admired her. “She’s pretty, I must admit.”

“Thank you,” she said with hidden sarcasm.

“My pleasure.” He winked. “My name is Eames Cranner. In case you ever get bored of Leonel and want to be with a real man.”

Leonel’s cheeks flushed, but she did nothing to contradict the soldier. It could be a ploy to test her and see if she’d react to his comments. She wouldn’t. She’d learned to deal with men whoseegos were bigger than their heads and with dark intentions in their hearts.

“Since we’ll be staying for a longer time than I expected, I thought . . .” Leonel began, after pushing his comrade away.

No.

Rejection formed on her lips almost instantly. Naithea had no intentions to spend another night with any of the soldiers after witnessing the way they treated innocent people.

Before Leonel could continue the proposal, the sound of a throat clearing interrupted him.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The soldiers shifted into formation, moving with the practiced precision expected when facing superiors.

It was him. The man who had smirked at her before seeing her off with Leonel. He wore no armor, as if the goddesses knew he didn’t need it to protect himself. Yet the emblem of Camdenn was carved into the center of his black leather suit to honor his king.

Naithea swept her gaze over the soldier’s body, just as Eames had done with hers a few moments ago. A lump rose in her throat at how tall he was, much more so than any of the other members of the Royal Army. Thick, muscular legs pressed against leather pants, accentuating his masculine frame. His arms, equally strong, looked capable of overpowering anyone who crossed him. His entire build was both solid and streamlined.

But it was his face, with angular features and a strong jaw, which bestowed an expression of power and dominance that Naithea had never seen before. She tilted her head back to stare at him, finding white hair, as neat as snow, perfectly combed back.

“No, Commander Ward,” Leonel stammered at his unexpected presence. “Miss Ausra and I were talking.”

Naithea swung her gaze around both men, intrigued. At Leonel’s words, her curiosity for the stranger was soon replaced with anger and loathing. He was the leader of the army, the one who made the rules and decisions. It was under his command that the soldiers had taken her sisters out of the brothel with no remorse or care.

“Commander.” Naithea bowed her head in a curtsy, pretending to be pleased with his presence. “You look well rested despite leading such an important mission.”

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