Page 55 of Heirs of the Cursed

“I accept your apology, General. Enjoy the party.”

18

Bellmare

A month had passed since the Royal Army troops had deployed across Lên Rajya with clear instructions to find the cursedprincesses, even if it meant tearing down everything in their path.

Ward wasn’t surprised by the way the citizens avoided his gaze and shrank in his presence. He’d made a name for himself, and as the Commander of Death, he would descend upon anyone who dared challenge him. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to save the kingdom from the cursed fate that loomed nearby, poised to devour them all.

The screech of a hawk echoed above his head. Ward turned his gaze away from the fighting arena, where two of his soldiers trained, and strode through the forest toward the cages of his messenger birds. There, Soldier Edgerton stretched out his arm, reaching for the bag hanging from the hawk’s leg, but Orion nipped his hand for his audacity. The rest of the soldiers laughed at such a foolish decision.

The army’s hawks had been trained to fly tirelessly, regardless of long distances and harsh weather conditions. Ward had grown up alongside these magnificent birds, the noblest and most loyal of species. Together with his general, Harg Koller, they’d trained this particular hawk to ensure they could communicate discreetly, without anyone else intercepting their messages.

The Chaser’s silence had begun to worry him, but the hawk’s arrival could only mean good news.

Or what could be called good news, given the circumstances.

Ward stroked the bird’s feathers, before untying the rope from its leg and taking the bag in his hands. The first thing he pulled out was a short note with explanations about the object that lay inside.

“Any news from the Chaser, Commander?” a soldier asked as he swept a hand through his sweaty hair, pushing it back from his eyes.

“The Chaser is always effective at his job.” Ward grinned with satisfaction. “Learn and perhaps, in a century, you can be half the dryad he is.”

“What is that?” someone asked.

The commander picked up the small object in his hand. “The answer to all our questions.”

It was a compass, crafted from gold and adorned with red rubies arranged in a circular pattern. The needle spun endlessly, restless in its motion.

Another soldier, Jacke Pyre, made his way among his comrades to examine the compass. Years before being recruited into the Royal Army, he’d been an apprentice to a powerful wizard in Camdenn, where he acquired experience with artifacts of dark magic.

The commander handed him the compass without hesitation and Jacke’s lips parted in amazement as he registered the light weight of the device.

According to Harg’s letter, a ruthless general had sought a way to drain the immortality from the daimonas, rendering them as vulnerable as the dryadalis. By summoning the goddess of preservation through ancient runes and blood rites, the general deceived Gimmera into revealing that the answers to his questions lay within the souls of the daimonas. However, during that time, the citizens of Ro’i Rajya hid from their enemies, making it nearly impossible to find them. In response, the goddess created an object capable of detecting the presence of a daimon and guiding him to them.

And now, the compass was the only object that could help them find the princesses that threatened to destroy their world.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, Commander, but it seems to be broken,” Eames warned, noticing that the compass needle was still moving uncontrollably.

“It’s not broken.”

“The commander is right,” Jacke Pyre confirmed. “The needle will stabilize when it senses the presence of dark magic and will light up upon encountering a daimon.”

One of the soldiers folded his arms. “It will take us days, if not weeks, to scour the lands of Bellmare and rule out every citizen.”

Ward knew that, but he had to make the most of every advantage they had if he wished to return to the capital before the curse claimed Princess Davinia’s life. When she had shown the first symptoms of the disease, he’d shared his suspicions with the king, which turned out to be correct. Apparently, the curse attacked in a specific order, starting with the youngest heir and moving up to the firstborn son.

It would kill them all if they didn’t get rid of those bloody princesses in time.

“I want eyes on every corner of Bellmare. Any suspicious activity will be questioned until proven innocent,” Ward declared and his soldiers stepped toward him, attentive to his new orders. “Don’t go easy on them either. Who knows what information we can get if we push hard enough to break them.”

“What about the rebels, Commander?”

“If we haven’t rid the city of them already, I don’t want you to show even a shred of mercy to those damned wretches. If their treason to the Crown is an undeniable truth, take them to the gallows,” he replied without a hint of doubt in his decision. “Let their rotting bodies be a reminder of what happens to traitors.”

“That will make any Bellmarian who knows of the princesses’ whereabouts step forward.” Fawke gave his commander a knowing smile. “Information in exchange for their lives. Sounds like a good deal to me.”

Some of the soldiers nodded in agreement.

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