Page 3 of The Fated and the Damned
“Duck,” András yelled. I didn’t hesitate, sliding my leg out and crouching as he parried with a cultist. The ring of steel clanged in my ear, and I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a sword that glided beneath András’s guard, dipping right where my head had been.
Adrenaline sluiced through my stomach, and I focused my attention elsewhere, shaking my head to clear it. A deep voice grunted with pain, and I snapped my eyes to the source. Dante. His arm was bleeding, and before my body could register it, I was moving. Running towards him with my sword raised and all my weight behind it as I shifted.
Damn it, even my body defied my determination to ignore the man, acting on pure instinct.
My blade connected with bone, and I grunted with effort, severing a clean cut through until a head thumped to the ground and rolled. When it finally came to a halt before a less than amused András, silence enveloped me—us.
I stared into Dante’s eyes, searching for … for only the gods knew what. My heart thudded erratically in my chest, and the hopeful girl in me longed,ached, to reach a hand out, to trail that stubbled jaw. To feel his arms around me, his lips upon my own.
Even after what he’d done, there was no denying how much I yearned for what was or what could have been. But the lies and deceit had opened a rift between us. Even if his reasons were valid, even if I’d have done whatever it took to save his brother, just like I’d have done anything if it was Eszter that Sylvie had been ransoming.
As if reading my mind, he lifted a hand and my heart galloped in my chest, anticipating his touch, needing to feel his flesh upon my own. Instead, he changed course, gripping his injured arm instead.
He cleared his throat. “It’s only a flesh wound,” he declared softly, daring a step towards me.
My walls built before my mind’s eye, solid as stone, unbreakable as iron. And I hated that feeling,hated myself,for stepping away from that one small gesture. I swallowed the stupid lump in my throat. “Good. Get cleaned up, we need to move.”
I turned away from him, feeling the distance widening that hole inside me even more. The hole that was growing to a chasm day by day by day. The wound I filled with anger and destruction and hate instead.
Two months had passed since Sylvie’s resurrection. I’d almost died on that stone slab as Dante’s mother—that vile, wretched creature—had fed from me, stolen my power and blood to bring the Dark Queen back from the dead. And Dante … I hadn’t been able to forgive him. Honestly, I’d been dealt some shitty cards and wasn’t quite ready to face them yet.
Instead, I’d focused all my efforts on finding the crown Death had tasked me with hunting. A symbol of sovereignty in the Under World. The problem was, I had no clue where to find it, and hours spent researching with Margit in the castle library had amounted to nothing.
When my brain grew too tired to take in information, I dedicated every spare moment to training. If we stood any chance of killing Sylvie, I needed to be strong. Body, mind, spirit. And hell, I could see the gruelling sessions paying off in the sleek new muscles of my body, though the latter was wanting. My heart was empty, just a blank slate wiped clean.
But these depressing thoughts were better spent with a drink in hand or a sword, and my blade had done enough damage for one day. There were witches needing help. My stomach churned as I gazed upon a line of four women bound by rope. They ranged from teens to a similar age to me, huddling together like sheep. I stalked up to them and swore at the sight of mottled bruises in purples and yellows lining their skin. Fucking cultists.
“It’s okay,” I said gently as I cut their bindings. “You’re safe now.”
Their eyes were wide, gleaming partly with relief and the haunted look of fear. To their credit, they raised their chins, seeming to find their bearings. I recognised a couple from the village. Hanna’s friends.
A blonde witch—Elisabeth, I think her name was—walked forward and, to my surprise, knelt before me. “Thank you.” Then again, quieter, tentatively, “Thank you.” She looked up at me, one eye swollen but imploring all the same. A plea for forgiveness.
My heart panged with sorrow for what my kith had been through—what many would likely go through yet. I’d been joining the hunting parties for weeks now, scouring the woods for signs of the cult and cutting them down before they could advance to the village or Mistvellen.
Mama had informed us that more witches were disappearing, no doubt as sacrifices for whatever horrible rituals Sylvie required to return to her strength. We’d saved many girls, but there were always cracks in our defences, always loose threads the enemy had cut.
Most of our army remained in Mistvellen, training, scouting, protecting our greater city. All witches had been offered sanctuary should they want it, but many remained in the village. I suspected Caitlin had much to do with that, but there were some, like my mother, who refused to abandon any that would stay behind.“We are all sisters,”Mama had said fiercely the last time I saw her.“I will fight for them until the end.”
I glanced at the girl before me. I still recalled the feeling of wet mud clinging to my skin after she’d pushed me, laughing alongside Hanna and her other friends. I still remembered the vines that held me down and lashed at my skin time and again as they cackled over me. Each time I could have burned them to cinders, but I’d been too scared, not knowing how far I’d go.
But that was long ago now. Inconsequential.
Despite our differences, the horrible ways she’d treated me in the past, she was a witch. And we protected our own. I held out a hand in supplication, and she took it with a steady grip as I pulled her to her feet.
“It’s forgotten,” I whispered for her ears alone. “All of it.” We both knew what I meant. How far back that forgiveness went.
She nodded, relief easing the taut lines of her face. Her pretty features only hardened as she took in the slaughter around us. “The cultists have been attacking the village for weeks now, pressing in small waves and blocking our routes to the human towns. They take witches from their beds, somehow surpassing our defences. Without supplies and manpower, I fear we will not last the summer.”
I sighed, sweeping a hand through my unruly hair. “We can send more soldiers, but Lord Sándor won’t risk leaving Mistvellen unprotected against a greater force.” I chewed my lip, my nerves writhing with anxiety. “Are the witches still in training?”
Elisabeth cringed. “Erika is doing her best with the time she has, and the táltosok are assisting when they can, but Caitlin has …” She swallowed, looking away.
“She’s done what?” I growled.
The witch’s hands curled into fists. “She’s agreed to meet with the Dark Queen to come to a mutual agreement.”
I blinked.What. The. Fuck.“I’ll burn in hell before I allow that to happen. Sylvie is murdering our people day by day, and Caitlin is considering a meet?No.”
