Page 85 of Heirs of the Cursed

There was pain in Leonel’s eyes; a pain that he repressed and hid deep inside. Naithea noticed it and lifted the soldier’s chin so that he looked her in the eyes.

“I’m sure it’s not like that. She must miss you, you’re still her son.”

Leonel shrugged, wanting to change the subject. “You chose to join us. Why?”

Any normal person would wonder why a whore wished to train in the art of war without any prior training. In Kirus Allencort’s kingdom, women only served to breed, nurture and satisfy their husbands. And poor and penniless women like her, to sell their bodies in search of survival.

“Because when the time comes I want to be ready to fight for those I love.”

“Does it still hurt?” he asked curiously. “Not physically, but . . .”

Madame Dimond’s whippings came to her mind, as did the image of Ward defending her. She didn’t want to feel that desperate for someone to save her ever again.

“I’m glad you weren’t there to witness it,” she whispered.

Leonel rested his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I would have defended you, Thea. Even if my commander hadn’t.”

Naithea hugged him without hesitation. It was in moments like these that she needed to show Leonel she’d defend him with tooth and nail as well, no matter the consequences.

“Let’s go. We’re done for the day.”

“I think I need a moment alone.”

“I’ll wait for you at the camp, then,” Leonel agreed.

Naithea watched him disappear among the hazel and ash trees, leaving her alone among the peaceful nature where the pixies that still remained hidden resided.

The reason she’d needed time by herself wasn’t due to mere selfishness. Since she’d joined the soldiers’ camp, something inside her had changed. The magic coursing through her veins had grown like a dark shadow that was beginning to eclipse the light in her soul. She could hear the monster in her mind growling hungrily, wanting to take control.

Soon, Naithea wouldn’t be strong enough to keep it at bay, and that frightened her.

She didn’t want to hurt innocent people, people she loved. If she lost control, she’d lose herself utterly in that lust for power and blood.

‘Surrender to me.’

‘Give me what I desire.’

Naithea growled under her breath at that malevolent voice rumbling through her body and covered her ears with her hands as if by doing so she could silence it. She wouldn’t. The monster belonged to her; it was an undeniable part of her.

“These woods are dangerous for a woman to wander into on her own.”

The blood froze in her veins when she heard Fawke Biceus’ voice behind her.

“Unless you fear some small magical creatures, there is no danger at all,” she informed him as she spun on her heels to face him.

“There are far more deadly monsters than mere insect fairies.”

‘Enchant him. Sink him into utter blackness.’

She clenched her hands into fists and dug her nails into her palms to fight back the desire to devour the soldier’s soul.

“What do you want?”

Fawke laughed with murderous coldness. “What I want is beyond your knowledge of this world,” he revealed as he approached her with his hands clasped behind his back. “But to answer your question, I want you gone. For good.”

His revelation didn’t take her by surprise. Fawke’s distrust had been in evidence from the moment they met. The soldier hadn’t hesitated to take every possible opportunity to show her that he hated her.

“I have an agreement with Commander Ward and I plan to honor it until the day you leave Bellmare,” Naithea assured, without wavering.

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