Page 59 of Heirs of the Cursed

“Is that true, wizard?”

Between tears and rivers of blood, Dyron nodded. “Yes, Commander. Summoning the goddesses has helped me ease my sorrows.”

“Release him, then.”

“What?” Fawke questioned him.

“You heard me. Release him and escort him to the healers,” he ordered.

One of the soldiers nodded and lifted Dyron from the ground before the commander could change his mind. Fawke, on the other hand, resisted slightly, but followed his comrades when Ward stared at him in warning. All four of them disappeared into the darkness of the night, leaving a trail of blood behind them.

When Ward lost sight of them, he turned to face Naithea. To apologize. If his father knew he’d stooped so low as to justify his actions to a woman, he would beat him unconscious.

That wasn’t the monster he’d created. The monster that had uttered those hurtful words in the brothel while she lay on the floor, wounded and bleeding.

I would never sleep with a whore.

Ward called out for her as she walked away, “Wait!”

“I thought you didn’t want to associate with whores like me,” she spat, ignoring his gaze.

“Ausra . . .”

Naithea quickly turned on her heels. “Why do you keep calling me that when you know my real name?” she demanded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Stain it once and for all! We both know you want to.”

“It’s the name you introduced yourself with when we first met. That doesn’t have to change,” he replied, holding back his thoughts.

Naithea let out a sarcastic laugh that froze the commander’s heart as her eyes sought his; both a coalition of skies and stars. “It costs you nothing to belittle me like everyone else has. Don’t pretend to care now.”

The commander caught her small wrist before she could run from him. For some reason, he couldn’t bear the sight of her leaving without at least trying to explain why he’d said those things when his actions in the brothel had proven something different.

But why? What kind of feeling stirred in his chest when it came to her?

None,he tried to convince himself.

Yet the words that left his lips were ones he’d been thinking of for two long nights.

“If I hadn’t played her game, Madame Dimond would have kept punishing you and I . . .” he admitted aloud, unable to speak aloud the rest of his confession. He was a monster, a weapon. Ward’s veins tightened with disappointment of himself as he said instead, “I didn’t want to cause you any more trouble than you were already in.”

“You mean cause you trouble,” Naithea corrected him. “Ruin your image as the Commander of Death. Let me make it easier for you.”

Naithea broke free from his grip, resuming her march and leaving Ward confused, with the sole and cold company of darkness.

19

Dawnfall

As the bonfire flames died out, the ground beneath Darcia’s feet grew steeper and more unstable. Though too drunk to stand, she’d wandered off after stealthily stealing a bottle of wine. Thefirst sip seared her throat, but with each subsequent swallow, the weight of her worries dissolved, and her troubles faded into the fog of intoxication.

She drank to numb her mind from her own thoughts, to find solace in the comforting embrace of the wine . . .

To forget the pain of her existence.

Yet it had done the opposite. Darcia couldn’t quell the feelings that darkened her heart with hatred: for her stepbrother, for the fears that paralyzed her in a life she didn’t desire, and for her magic. There were days when Darcia despised the gift the goddesses had bestowed upon her. Invading people’s privacy and endangering them every time she performed wasn’t something she was proud of.

Darcia could blame Conrad and tell herself it was the price to pay for her own survival, but that would be a lie. If she were to kill someone or drive them to madness, the responsibility would be hers alone.

The thoughts of those near her grew louder and louder in her mind, making her head ache and her guilt swell. Darcia fell to her knees and covered her ears with her hands.

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