Page 40 of Heirs of the Cursed

Harg’s imposing eyes rested on the man. “Are you questioning the king’s authority, Rogen?”

The question hung in the air, cold, ruthless.

“No, sir.”

“Then your questions are exceedingly foolish.” The group of soldiers burst out laughing, and Rogen’s cheeks reddened. “But you may ask your questions until I finish my second tankard of ale. After that, anyone who dares to question me in the slightest will suffer the consequences.”

A shudder made Darcia shiver. She took another sip of the bitter ale, asking the goddesses to give her enough strength not to run away in terror. Yet the liquid settled heavily in herstomach as her body assimilated the general’s not at all innocent threats.

One of the soldiers at the far end of the tavern cleared his throat.

“Tell me, Thomwell.”

The soldier looked at his companions, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, before asking, “How is Princess Davinia?”

An uneasy silence prompted the few Dawnfallians present to slip out of the tavern, leaving Darcia alone with the soldiers. Soon, the only sounds that accompanied them were the persistent squeak of a rag against the glasses being polished by the tavern keeper and the crackling of flames in the chandeliers.

“The princess is being cared for by Laivalon’s best healers.”

“Does that mean she’s going to heal soon?” the same soldier asked.

Heal.

Darcia blinked in confusion. Was there another sick royal heir? And Princess Davinia, of them all. She was the youngest of the king’s children—no more than thirteen years old—and the most loved by the people. Darcia couldn’t imagine how painful the sickness caused by the curse must be as it slowly turned her body to stone.

Still, that would explain the sudden aggressive attitude of the soldiers.

The king was desperate.

“Soon,” Harg said.

But Darcia knew the truth: he was lying.

She’d been extremely careful, subtle and elegant in getting into the Chaser’s head. She wouldn’t stay long enough for him to feel something was odd.

Darcia wasn’t stupid, but she craved answers. And she’d gone there to get them.

“There are rumors spreading through the slums of the cities that the Council has come to a decision in their last meeting,” spoke a very old man. Time had lightened his bristly beard and sparse hair. He swirled his wine jug several times before continuing, “They say that Prince Killian must find a wife.”

In Harg’s mind, alarm bells went off. His mental threads, glowing in blue hues that conveyed a strange calmness, now flickered with a violent red. Still in her seat, Darcia jerked in pain as she noticed his hands clenching on the wooden table.

There were warnings that she shouldn’t overlook. She should have left his head immediately, but she remained cornered among his memories, calming her erratic breathing. Darcia wasn’t sure how long she could hold on; her magic wasn’t only aware of Harg’s mind, but also of the lingering thoughts of the rest of the soldiers.

The soldier savored his wine calmly, showing no signs of perturbation. His face radiated serenity, and his eyes held a deep, patient gaze that revealed the wisdom gained over the years. Still, Harg appeared to struggle to maintain his composure, visibly agitated by the situation.

Why did it affect him so much?

“I’m going to see if the storm has subsided. We need to start interrogating around the east of Dawnfall at once.”

Darcia shuddered at his terse reply. Her eyes snapped open, and the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. To keep up the pretense, she stepped back with her head down to let the Chaser pass, and continued to drink absentmindedly, while her heart beat erratically in her chest, threatening to give her away.

“Well?” John Galver asked. “Who told you that, Odraval?”

The old soldier cocked his head slightly. “The important thing isn’t who said it, but rather what they said, John. It’s not the first time such disturbing rumors have spread. But it’s the first time they have begun to shake the kingdom.”

“Are you talking about the rebels? About the raid on Mubarak Forest?” Galver muttered.

“Rebels!” Rogen burst out laughing. “Those are nothing but absurd myths.”

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