Page 8 of Heirs of the Cursed

The crowing of a rooster woke Darcia from a restless sleep.

A stabbing pain shot through every bone in her body, her head clouded with fog. She turned her head to see Bassel’s emptyflask resting on one of the wooden planks that kept the straw from toppling. She’d drunk more than she should have, and now regretted it.

Darcia squinted her eyes as she thought of last night’s events. When she’d walked back to her family’s hut, she’d been determined to knock on the door for her father to let her in. But the sound of voices inside had warned her of her stepbrother’s presence.

Every part of her body had trembled with fear, aware that, were she to enter the cabin, Conrad would punish her for disobeying his orders. Although she didn’t remember when the beatings had started, her stepbrother had made it clear to her time and time again that she wasn’t welcome. Darcia had lived in fear ever since—a price she’d paid to leave behind the icy forests that could have killed her long ago.

Some feared the monsters under the bed, others the ones the world created with its cruelty . . .

Darcia feared the monster she lived with and couldn’t get rid of. It was that fear that prompted her to sleep in the stables next to the cabin and get up early so Conrad wouldn’t notice her absence.

With her muscles half asleep, she grabbed her cloak and shook out her clothes and hair to remove the remnants of straw. She hid the flask and descended the wooden stairs of the stables, clutching the vramnias Bassel had given her the night before. Once her legs steadied beneath her, Darcia broke into a run toward the city.

Dawnfall awoke to a quiet sunrise. The empty streets still bore the echoes of the previous night’s revelry, as well as some gnawed food on the ground. Darcia wandered among the wooden houses, her eyes flicking between the closed shops. Vendors made the most of the mornings after the festivities to rest, for once the capital sent new orders their way, theDawnfallians had to return to work and pay tribute to the Crown if they wanted to stay alive.

A group of children playing marbles in the square greeted her energetically. Darcia smiled at them and walked down the main street until she reached the market area, where Sadira’s bakery, her best friend and Bassel’s twin, was located.

The smell of powdered sugar and freshly baked bread hit Darcia as she opened the door, the sound of tiny bells hanging overhead announcing her arrival. A beautiful dark-skinned girl with light brown eyes emerged from the kitchen, shaking her flour-stained hands on her apron.

“Darcie, my dear!” Sadira greeted, excited. Her smile turned into a grimace as she studied her. “You look awful.”

“It’s always a pleasure to come and receive compliments as a greeting, Sadie.”

Her friend gave her a gentle, comforting hug. “I’m very happy to see you, it’s been a while since we last met. I’ll prepare some coffee!”

“Actually, I was just coming for bread,” Darcia said. “My stepbrother is back.”

“That damned bastard . . .” Sadira let out an angry sigh. “Let me prepare you something to eat. I can tell you’re hungover from afar, and I doubt your father will be happy about it.”

Darcia wanted to object, but Sadira didn’t give her time to do so.

“I’ll bring today’s baked goods along with fresh bread!” Sadira exclaimed as she led the way to one of the tables. “Besides, everyone is sleeping and I need my daily dose of gossip to stay alive.”

“So that’s what this was all about.”

“Don’t blame me.” She raised her hands innocently. “I’ll be right back!”

Darcia stirred in her seat and sighed. Having Sadira by her side was like a breath of fresh air. She’d always treated her kindly and comforted her in the worst of times; she’d even helped her win Caeli’s heart. Yet solitude was a faithful companion, and when Conrad was in Dawnfall, it was the only company she wanted.

The chirping of birds and the gentle blowing of the wind was suddenly drowned out by the unusual sound of horses’ hooves. Darcia turned her head in confusion and leaned with her forearms on the table so she could see beyond the window.

The empty streets had been replaced by a troop of thirty soldiers.

“By the Triad . . .”

Both the coffee mug and the plate of sweets Sadira was holding hit the floor, and Darcia gasped at the sound of the porcelain shattering into pieces.

“What’s the Royal Army doing so far from the capital?” Darcia asked.

The king only sent a group of his large army when there was a trail of rebels to follow, insurgent enemies of the Crown who wanted to overthrow the Allencort family.

“I wouldn’t worry about the soldiers, but him.” Sadira looked at her, uneasy. “You don’t know who that is?”

Darcia accepted her friend’s outstretched hand and they both moved closer to the glass, where they could get a better view of the soldier riding a blonde horse with dark mane. The man’s face was menacing; not only because of the scars on his face, his shaved hair and his intimidating hazel eyes, but because of his aggressive expression and his fearless stance.

Danger, her mind warned her.

“Someone who looks like he’s got a stick up his ass?” Darcia joked.

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