Page 80 of Heirs of the Cursed

She lowered her gaze to the Chaser’s hand and placed hers upon it in solidarity.

“Only one dance, my friend.”

Harg smiled, as if he were the happiest man in Laivalon.

Up on the stage, Alasdair couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He knew he was taking too great a risk. When he joined the band on the streets of Dawnfall, they played at night, the shadows concealing his features. Yet, driven by an inexplicable force, an overwhelming urge to search for Darcia overtook him.

Alasdair had ventured to her house, dodging the soldiers until he reached her window and had asked her if she’d attend the stupid ball. His curiosity knew no bounds, leading him to expose himself again for the purpose of talking to her. The wall he’d built around himself should have been enough to stop the feelings he entertained; an effort that had taken years for the ice armor to prevent any feeling.

For once, the goddesses had surprised him.

Perhaps that was what it was all about, a necessary balance: the boy who cared about nothing and the girl who cared about everything.

He should have left Dawnfall once he’d gotten what he’d long been looking for and carried on with his plans. Still, there he was, standing on an absurd stage with a violin in his hands as he watched her walk toward the dance floor.

The music pulsed through his veins, but his attention was focused on the woman who had taken over the ballroom. Not for dancing with Harg Koller, nor for the beautiful dress that enhanced her curves or for the halo of mystery that her boreal eyes delivered even while caged by a silver mask.

It washer.

Alasdair had come to the conclusion that he wanted to know her. That he wanted to be a part of her life and understand how a heart could continue to beat with such goodness despite being so shattered. He wanted to understand her out of intrigue, or maybe, deep down, he needed to.

With a promise in mind, he pressed the violin beneath his chin and played, letting the music isolate his thoughts. And all that time that Darcia was dancing, Alasdair Hale kept his eyes on her.

Darcia was grateful that Harg guided her through her clumsiness. The dance wasn’t complicated, but she hadn’t attended a highborn ball in a long time, and while she was a skilled trapeze artist and illusionist of renown, dancing had never been her thing.

Harg spun her around twice before he spoke, “I didn’t want you to feel threatened,” he confessed, locking his hazel gaze on her. “It would have seemed rather unfair.”

“And isn’t it unfair to threaten the rest of the women in this city?” She raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“We haven’t threatened anyone. As I told you, we have been careful.”

“That word isn’t very common among soldiers, am I wrong?”

Harg evaded the question masterfully. “I preferred to be the one to ask you the questions.”

“Fine.” She spun around and let the Chaser catch her in his arms. “Then ask.”

“What can you tell me about your life?”

Darcia analyzed him slowly. She remembered nothing of her childhood until she was four years old. As Gion had told her, she was found in the forest, in the company of two wolves, and brought to the hut. She had no injuries and didn’t seem ill. They’d asked her several times about her parents and all she’d been able to do was gesture to the woods.

Left to her own fate, a lost cause.

“I grew up in Dawnfall for as long as I can remember. My father raised me in the cabin you visited.”

“What about your mother?”

“I never knew her,” she replied, a surge of revulsion rising within her. Lisabetta didn’t deserve to have her name tarnished by being called the mother she never had. “According to my father, she was an animal caretaker. People in the village would come to her when their chickens were sick or when the mares gave birth. She was the only person who could get along with any creature.”

Harg smiled kindly at her. “Your parents have very common magic in the world of the dryadalis. Yours, however . . .”

Darcia bit the inside of her cheek, nervous. As comfortable as she felt talking to Harg, he was still loyal to the Crown. Since she’d lied about her supposed mother, she had to be convincing, for a girl found in the middle of the forest was suspicious enough.

“Father told me that she had family in Ro’i Rajya. My maternal grandfather was a daimon, so that would explain my rare magic.” She took a breath and paused. “As far as I know, her family died long before the curse spread.”

One day, Darcia asked her father why her magic was so dark. She’d been too young to understand, but still remembered what Gion had told her. Love between dryadalis and daimonas wasn’t uncommon and, from those forbidden unions, many half-breeds were born. Not as dangerous as the daimonas, the Two Bloods had always been shamed and viewed as a disease too difficult to eradicate.

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