Page 26 of The Cursed and the Broken
Lavender, rose, and bluebell ribbonswhispered in the light breeze, streaming down from trees dotting the village. Flowers in lemons and reds and whites curled around maypoles, and petals crunched under bare feet as women danced.
Eszter grabbed my hand with glee, giggling as she pulled me along the path, winding under arches and around girls as they laughed and made merry. Earth witches weaved their magic, sprouting new life in green vines and smiling flowers.
It felt surreal to be here after last night. Life and love and unhindered happiness—the very things those cultists sought to steal from us. I’d barely slept a wink, instead curling up on my bed, shivering not from cold, but shock, and the realisation I’d killed someone, no matter that it was self-defence. I could still see the blood on my hands now, despite having scrubbed them red, raw, and squeaky clean.
I’d almost let the monster inside me loose and I could still feel the pull of my darker power. It was like a low ache in my chest—like an itch I couldn’t scratch—begging to be released. I wondered what I’d become if I gave in to it. Would I lose myself to its pull? Would it change me at my core, take me on the path that the Dark Queen went down?
My skin prickled at the thought and I shuddered as a cold draft wrapped its hands around my shoulders. The thought of becoming anything like Sylvieterrifiedme and the mere idea of it sent spiders crawling down my skin and my heart galloping.
Am I being paranoid? Would it be so bad to try to harness that power? If I did, I might be able to use it to protect my people. Use it for something good.
I gritted my teeth. More questions I didn’t have answers to.
Surprisingly, Mama had said nothing when I’d told her what happened with the cultists last night. She had only sat quietly after ushering me into a warm bath, soaping the gore from my hair, the blood on my skin and under my nails. Erika had been right. She didn’t berate me for disobeying her rules, didn’t scream or shout. Instead, she seemed resigned, sorrowful.
Did she judge me?
Last night changed me. I had killed. I would never be her little girl again. And perhaps that was a good thing. Too long had I suffered the ills of others, the reprimand of my elders, the gossiping of my peers. I was a warrior. Last night had proved my gifts were not to be squandered or laughed at and I had to believe I could use them for the greater good.Yes.My magic was protection. Power.
My lips lifted at that. Caitlin begged me to be a sheep, but I was a wolf, and I would howl loud and proud.
Eszter nudged me from my thoughts, her brown curls gleaming with gold beneath the sun streaming down on us. She was so beautiful. Lips painted red, a flower crown in her hair, white dress flowing to reveal slender legs and bare feet.
Mama dressed me similarly. I wore a fitted bodice of white, sage coloured thread weaving intricate patterns lining the seams and tying the corset at my back. Mama had washed my hair with lavender-scented water last night and curled my hair until it damn well obeyed. She had finished with crushed rose petals, painting them upon my lips and adding a gentle blush to my cheeks. Kohl lined my eyes and, when I’d looked upon my reflection in the mirror, I hadn’t recognised the girl looking back.
A pleasing reflection. Even if my muscles held a tightness, my eyes were a little darker than usual. And though a sadness still glimmered in Mama’s eyes when she gazed upon her work, there was pride there, too, as she looked upon me this morn. She had leaned in close, placing a kiss upon my brow. “Do you know what today brings, my child?”
I had nodded slowly before raising my chin high. “I am to meet my suitor. Today shall mark the first step towards our marriage.”
Mama had smiled then. “I’m proud of you, Kitarni. I know this isn’t what you want, nor what you would have chosen for your future, but this matrimony will bind our peoples together. You honour your father by continuing his legacy with a táltos.”
I had stayed silent then, let her preen over my appearance as I’d mulled over my future. Marriage.
Arranged.
Fucking.
Marriage.
To someone I’d never met. Someone who might be as awful as Erika’s now deceased bag of bones. Perhaps I’d do him in the same, I’d thought with amusement. But that had quickly fizzled, curdling deeper in my gut as the memories of last night once again flashed before my eyes.
Shaking myself of dark thoughts, I let Eszter drag me towards the dance and I could do naught but smile as she tapped her feet and clapped to the music, revellers around us lost to the sound of freedom. Golden balls of light twinkled around us, conjured by witches to suspend us in a cloud of golden dust. My worries fell away as the rhythm found my feet, climbing up my bones, my soul clinging to the joy of that pagan beat. These could well be my last days as a free woman.
So I allowed myself permission to enjoy.To live. And we danced. Me, wild and free, Eszter, graceful as a dove as she twirled and twirled until we were dizzy and laughing, hearts in our throats and fingers clasped in each other’s.
When my temple beaded with sweat and I could bear the endless whirls no more, I stumbled off the grassy knoll to fetch a drink. Witches raided the inn and wine flowed freely today, everyone’s cup filled. After a quick glance to ensure no one was watching, I sculled the contents of my cup and I wandered.
The day was still young, the weather sun-kissed but crisp. The smell of poached fruit climbed my nose, accompanied by the sweet scent of sugars and pastries. Treats lined stalls dotted through the town square and I busied myself with one of each, stuffing my face with sticky fingers.
Despite the merriment, I found myself atop the hill overlooking the town. I’d always welcomed the quiet, found peace in nature’s gifts. But today, surveying the groups of girls laughing and dancing, the comradery on their faces, I’d never felt so alone. Were it not for the guards patrolling our village in droves, I might have ventured into the woods in search of the fae. Creatures who accepted me as I am. Who welcomed individuality and all kinds of magic.
“Not one for the crowds, I see.”
I nearly shed my skin at the sound of a deep voice, one I recognised immediately. A thrill coursed through me as I turned and there he was. Brown eyes encircled in gold, dark hair that glimmered red in the sunlight, his face and jawline a sensual tapestry of sharp planes. My eyes lingered on his mouth as he smiled, a predatory gaze as he sized me up. “Hello, Freckles.”
He dressed finely today—a white shirt beneath a black doublet, a silver brooch embellished with the symbol of the táltos clan clasping a fine grey cloak about his shoulders. Silver wrist guards encircled his arms and a silver spaulder hugged one shoulder. But it was his blades that captured my attention.
Twin long swords were sheathed at his back, the steel covered in scripture too small for me to see from afar. The hilts held snarling wolves—a testament to his clan. Either the táltos had a highly talented blacksmith, or this weapon was a nod to a great man and perhaps an even greater house.
