Page 81 of The Cursed and the Broken
He grinned. “Naturally. Should they not be?”
“It’s not that,” I said slowly. “It’s just … until I met Dante, I’d always thought about my gifts as a curse, not a blessing.”
“All magic is a gift. It’s up to the host how they use it. Why do you use your power, Kitarni?”
I blinked. No one had ever asked me that before but, as I thought about it, I realised I’d only ever used my fire and blood magic in times of need. Fire was dangerous, but it was necessary, too. Fire meant warmth, comfort and full bellies. And my other magic?
I lifted my chin with conviction. “I use it to protect the ones I love. To keep my family and my people safe.”
András leaned back in his chair, resting his boot over one knee, a sad smile on his lips. “You proved that before you even stepped foot in Mistvellen. You gave yourself to the cause without a moment’s hesitation. What could be more honourable than that? Your magic is a gift, Kitarni. One you’re worthy of.”
I settled into my chair, feeling that warmth spreading in my stomach. He’d put it so simply, but it was perhaps the biggest compliment I’d received in a long time. More of a lesson—a reminder that I had the power to make change.
His expression drifted and I wondered what had caused the haunted look in his eyes as he lapsed into silence.
“Do you have family in Mistvellen?” I blurted, wishing I hadn’t been so forward, but András didn’t shy away.
“Not in the way you mean,” he replied, his demeanour darkening. “My mother died giving birth to me and my father abandoned me to sail the seas. Lord Sándor took me in when I was just a squalling babe. Dante’s been like a brother to me ever since and Margit a big sister, though certainly not a safe one to have.”
I smiled, imagining them playing as children. András with his golden locks and bright smile, Dante with those big brown eyes and air of haughtiness about him. Margit, of course, would have been the one getting them into trouble.
“Are you still spinning that sob story? You were such a sensitive child, you balled at every little thing,” she said, swishing into the room with a teasing grin. “Someone had to forge you into stronger stuff.”
“You shoved me off the wall and broke my arm and leg,” András said with a glare as she sprawled over the couch.
“Nudged,” Margit said innocently, batting her lashes. “You were just too slow and chubby to move fast enough.” She turned to me, a knowing grin on her face and a dangerous glint in her eye. “He had a fondness for sweets, it was a vulnerable time for him.”
“The cooks used to give me extra treats,” András whispered behind his hand with a wink. “I was the apple of their eye, even then.”
“Yes, and I’m sure everyone’s had a taste since,” Dante smirked as he strolled into the room.
I laughed, letting myself fall into the ease of their company, the gentle teasing and jokes. Dante settled on the arm of my chair, his presence warm and comforting beside me. I watched the group eagerly, feeling drawn to the soft tug of happiness pulling at my heart.
They were a strange lot, but they were family in all the ways that counted. It made me miss Mama and Eszter even more, but it also gave me hope that one day soon I might find my place among this pack.
Dante was the leader, the foundation that made them strong and united; Margit was the clever one, sophisticated and unyielding; and András was the hope and adventure, the light that guided their way.
So where did I belong?
THIRTY-FIVE
Dante and I made loveagain that night, just as rough and passionate as before. There was no denying how much we wanted each other—how much we needed each other’s touch. I was fire and brimstone, Dante was smoke, shadow and warmth.
Perhaps it was the unspoken fear that we would find more than we bargained for after setting out tomorrow, but it made the sex even wilder. He was unchartered territory, an adventure?and I planned to explore the whole map.
Margit had given me a tonic to prevent any accidents. So long as I took it once a month on a full moon, I would not be with child. The time would come where I would do my duty and honour my agreement with Farkas, but not until the dust had settled and we were all safe.
When at last we’d flopped onto the bed in a tangled, sweaty mess of limbs, I turned, gazing into his dark brown eyes. They were clouded with concern, something unfamiliar flashing in those depths.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
He hesitated, his face falling blank as a mask slid into place. “I can’t stop thinking about Margit’s vision. Please, Kitarni. Don’t go tomorrow. It’s too dangerous.”
I sat up, gaping at him. At the wall he’d just erected. “Ever since we met, we’ve been facing all kinds of monsters. Now, you’re doubting my abilities?” I elbowed him playfully at an attempt to lighten the mood, but he sighed.
He shuffled up the bed, leaning against a bundle of pillows. “It’s different this time. Margit said the cultists would capture you …” He shook his head. “We can’t allow that to happen.”
I narrowed my eyes, studying his face. “You knew it would come to this eventually. Did you really think I’d stay home while you risked your neck?”
