Page 81 of Heirs of the Cursed

Out of fear or hatred, Darcia had come to believe that the power coursing through her veins was the reason her birth family had abandoned her.

“You certainly have a good relationship with Gion Voreia,” Harg stated.

“My father is my family,” she offered, a genuine warmth softening her features at the thought. “I don’t know what would become of me without him.”

“Family is important.”

After a quick set of feet, Harg took Darcia’s hand above her head and tilted her to the side, supporting her body to keep her from falling to the ground. The general led the dance with grace and experience, as if he’d participated in them more times than he would like to admit.

“You don’t have a family?” she asked.

“I have a brother. My commander.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “The commander of the Royal Army is your brother?”

“Not by blood, but we grew up together. We trained, played, and suffered the king’s punishments side by side. He helped me in difficult times, when I had nothing to fight for. I owe my whole life to him.”

Darcia detected a deep affection in his voice. It was very strange for someone like Harg not to have had something to fight for at some point. Still, she was too familiar with that sentiment to doubt it.

“It must be hard to be separated from a brother.”

“How do you feel about being separated from Conrad?” At his words, Darcia stopped dancing. The general regretted it as soon as he noticed the expression on her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s all right,” Darcia interrupted him with a soft smile. “I’d like to have a drink, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Allow me.”

She accepted his outstretched hand and let him guide her through the crowd to one of the tables. By instinct, Darcia searched the room for the violinist who kept staring at her. A shiver rippled through her body like an energetic caress and faded as quickly as the Chaser handed her a glass of champagne from Hamleigh.

She took a tiny sip.

“When I’m around Conrad, I feel like a caged dog,” Darcia admitted, providing him with the answer to his question. “I guess not all families are meant to love each other.”

“Has it been that way all your life?”

Darcia nodded. “When my magic first manifested, he saw a great opportunity. We’re twelve years apart, so by the age of sixteen, he was already capable of deceiving even the smartest of men with just a small trick. That’s when he came up with the idea of setting up a circus of freaks, as he calls it.”

“And you’ve been working there since you were four?”

“At first they were easy illusions, especially with kids my age,” she explained, unable to look him in the eye. “I knew what they liked because I had fun showing it to them, too. It started out as a game I had to play every day, but it wore me out and my father began to wonder if I was sick. It was from the age of twelve when it became an obligation. Either I did it or I suffered the consequences.”

Harg placed the crystal glass on the table, before his hand burst it to pieces. “What consequences?”

The faint sting of tears burned her eyes. Darcia wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Not now, not ever.

“All the people in that circus are my family, just like the people in this city. I grew up amid the smell of freshly baked bread, the ink of the scribes in the square and the depths of Drych Lake. I have explored Mubarak Forest with my father and admired the Gilded Peak Mountains from afar.” Darcia could almost feel the sense of freedom caressing her soul. “It may be a small, secluded city, but as far as I know, there’s no one dangerous here. Everyone has a good heart and fights hard every day to survive. They don’t need more fear and terror.”

Harg was silent, reflective.

Darcia didn’t expect the general to understand; Conrad had never understood either. Her life might have been hell in many ways, but her heart was still beating. The world had failed to bring her down, for the people of Dawnfall had rallied to her aid. That made her indebted to them.

She took another sip from her glass of champagne, feeling bubbles pop in her throat as exhaustion shook her violently.

“I’m afraid it’s late. If you have no further questions for me, I think we can consider this party over.”

“One more question.” Harg stepped closer, his tone light. “When you were little, did you used to get sick a lot?”

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