Page 23 of Cursed

I wrenched open the door and bit back a cry of surprise as one of Lucian’s bodyguards glared down at me.

I smiled weakly.

“I’m ready—”

He grunted in response, an unpleasant, guttural sound that sent a shiver down my spine. Despite the hint of spring in the air and my undeniable eagerness for what lay outside, his icy gaze made me feel small and helpless all over again.

Wordlessly, he turned on his heel and led me down the grand staircase and through winding corridors that seemed to stretch on endlessly. I followed in silence, and my pulse kept time with my steps.

As we exited the house and approached the threshold of the garden, a sense of serene calm washed over me. The tension wedged firmly between my shoulder blades loosened slightly as I took a deep breath of the rain-soaked air.

The guard allowed me to walk ahead of him, and I meandered through the winding pathways with a sense of relief in my chest, even though he followed close on my heels. The twisted branches of the sculpted trees were still bare, but every so often I glimpsed the evidence of the approaching spring. Beside the path, a patchwork of vibrant greens and pinks sprang forth around each bend. My body moved autonomously, more familiar with these paths than I admitted even to myself. Every once in a while, I’d glance back just to see the guards standing close by; watchful, silent—a grim reminder of my reality.

I also wasn’t sure if he was there to protect me—or to keep me from doing something I shouldn’t.

If any of Lucian’s sons were to come to the garden, would he keep them away from me? Or was I still in danger?

I wandered deeper into the garden and stretched my hands out into the flowerbeds to let the vibrant petals brush against my fingertips as I searched for a sliver of peace.

The twisted ivy spiraled around the gnarled trees, and their dark beauty was both alluring and foreboding—I suppressed a shudder as my vivid nightmare sprang back into my mind. The vines—

I remembered the way they had burned as they tightened around my wrists and ankles—

I shook my head, trying to dispel the vision, but it clung to me like smoke. Those vines, dark and coiling, tightened around my thoughts and I shook my head to try to force them to dissipate. I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on the garden, but the plants seemed to twist around me, the flora becoming more grotesque with each passing moment. Shadows danced in the corners of my vision; I was convinced they were watching me, waiting for the moment when I would falter.

Tears pricked at my eyelashes, but I blinked them away.

As I turned a corner, my breath caught. A figure leaned casually against a gnarled tree, half-hidden by the shadows—Valen. He emerged from the gloom like a phantom and his tousled hair caught the dim light, framing a face that was both familiar and unsettling. The sardonic smile that tugged at his lips sent a shiver down my spine, an instinctual reaction that screamed danger even as attraction flickered to life within me.

“Who let you out of your cage, little bird?” he taunted.

“What do you care?” I snapped. Despite the unease that pooled in my stomach, my chin lifted defiantly. I stepped back, wary of the unpredictable energy that radiated from him.

I glanced over my shoulder, but the guard was nowhere in sight.

Damn him. Of all the times to abandon me…

His stained hands—darkened with what I could only assume to be dirt—clutched a bundle of delicate flowers. Their leaves and pale petals curled just a little, as though in agony. He noticed my distraction and held one flower out to me, and then he seemed to reconsider and tucked it back into the bouquet before I could take it from his hand. “Picking flowers in this garden is a dangerous game.”

I didn’t want to be curious, but I was. “Why?”

His smile was brief. “They’re more than a little poisonous.”

“Then why do it?” My voice wavered just a little, and I hoped he wouldn’t notice my nervousness. “Won’t you— won’t you— Won’t they harm you?”

“No one else will do it,” Valen replied with a shrug. He pulled a small vial from his pocket and the glass caught the weak sunlight in a flash that blinded me for just a moment. He uncorked it with a practiced flick of his wrist, and my heart raced as I watched him bring it to his lips.

The liquid inside shimmered like liquid night and my instincts screamed at me to stop him, yet I remained rooted to the spot, captivated by the recklessness of his actions.

“An antidote,” he explained before he tilted the vial back and swallowed the contents in one swift motion. His gaze locked onto mine, searching for a reaction as I swallowed hard.

“I can’t decide if you’re brave or insane,” I choked out.

“Maybe a little of both,” he said. He stepped closer, and the shadows enveloped him like a cloak. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “You don’t look well, sister— haven’t you been sleeping?”

His question echoed in the empty spaces of my mind and sent another chill racing down my spine. What did he know? Was he the one who had been invading my dreams? Or did he simply enjoy toying with my fears?

“What— what are the flowers for?” I blurted out.

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