Page 80 of The Cursed and the Broken
I nodded. “These will be my people soon, too. I want to protect them as much as you do.”
Surprise flickered over his features and he glanced between Dante and me carefully. “There is much to lose in times of war. As commander of the Wolfblood army, my son will fight beside me in the days to come. Every day he rides to battle, my bloodline is at risk—my son—and it is every father’s fear to lose their child.”
He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I would sleep better knowing you weren’t out there too. As Nora would.”
I stared at him, a little bewildered at the sentiment. My heart warmed as I glanced between him and his son. Farkas was an honourable man, but I had my own honour to uphold. Placing a hand on his arm, I offered him a grim smile. “I can’t sit by while the men go to war. I am a witch and I will not cower behind stone walls while the táltosok fight. Not when there is so much at stake and certainly not when I have the power to defend our people.”
He leaned back in his chair and, to my surprise, cracked a smile. “You are your father’s daughter,” he chuckled. “Nora said you wouldn’t listen.”
I raised a brow. “I’m a Bárány. Stubbornness runs in our blood.”
“Do your mother and sister share your temper and charm, too?” Dante drawled.
I kicked his feet under the table and Margit snorted into her cup as she feigned drinking wine beside me, but I ignored her.
“My mind is made up,” I said to Farkas, my tone turning serious. “I will join the scouting party tomorrow, but you should know, events are set in motion that cannot be avoided.”
“Margit has had visions, Father,” Dante added quietly.
She stiffened beside me, casting her blue eyes on the lord. “It’s true. Sylvie will return. Whether Kitarni seeks her out or waits for the cultists to come, they will take her. It is written in blood. But know this, my lord. Kitarni is all that stands in the way of the Dark Queen’s reign.”
Farkas swore, spouting a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. He glanced at his niece, his jaw ticking. “Is there no way to prevent this from happening? No means of altering the vision’s outcome?”
“It’s possible, but highly unlikely,” she replied. “My visions aren’t set in stone but it’s more a glimpse of the future. They haven’t failed me yet.”
“Yet,” Dante said, grasping at the word. His eyes gleamed with a kind of desperation I hadn’t seen from him before. “So there’s still a chance we can stop this?”
Margit said nothing and my heart sank. He really believed we could. I wanted to hold him to my chest, to tell him everything was going to be all right, but it was a lie?a damn lie?and Margit knew it as well as I did.
“Dante,” I began.
“You can’t go,” he said abruptly, the muscles in his face tensing. “If there’s even a small chance that we can keep you from her clutches … we’d be fools not to be cautious.”
Despair settled in my gut, curdling like dated milk. I wanted to believe there was another way, but I knew it wasn’t so. I took a deep breath, feeling myself breaking apart inside. “Before I ventured to Mistvellen, you agreed I would be included in this war, that my choices are mine to make. I hold you to your word. All my life I’ve felt useless compared to my witch kith. Now, I have the chance to do something with my power. Don’t take that away from me.”
My last words almost broke and Dante’s face fell as he took my hand. He understood me better than anyone—perhaps even myself—and he would never,neverask me to make myself smaller or to hide from my worth. He’d taught me to embrace who I was, helped me understand how strong I could be, how powerful. He’d been right.
The darkness inside me had terrified me at first, but I finally realised it’s what makes me stronger. We all had monsters under our skins, but my anger, my sorrow, my past?and even my blood?made me who I am.
I reached out to the beast inside, stroked its black scales, didn’t shy from its talons. It was just a piece of me?a lonely, misunderstood creature. But if I fed that power, showed it its worth, I could be even stronger.
And that was empowering. Freeing.
When the cultists had attacked us at Mistvellen’s gates, I had trusted myself enough with that power and I would do so again.
THIRTY-FOUR
“You’re too easy to read,” András said with a cocky grin as he watched me mulling over my next move. “Like an open book.”
I studied the chess board, scowling at the wooden figurines carved in the likeness of wolves, táltosok and witches. “This is my first time learning the game,” I groaned. “You set me up to fail before we even began.”
He laughed, his blond curls dropping over his face. His green eyes flashed, reflecting the fire from the hearth. “It’s a game of strategy. You have to think several steps ahead, rather than charging into battle with fire blazing and no thought for the outcome.”
I raised a brow. “I recall my tactics having served me well in battle so far.”
A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Fair point. Unfortunately for a grunt like me, I wasn’t born with the power to decimate my rivals.”
He said that like I should thank my lucky stars and I plucked the wine goblet from our table, hiding behind it as I took a sip. “I suppose everyone has been talking about my magic? What happened outside the gate?”
