Page 56 of The Curse of Ophelia

I laid my blanket next to hers, as close as possible, and curled on my side to face her, supporting my head with my arm. I was careful to avoid the central point of the Curse where the pain was the deepest, but I was growing used to the ache.

“I don’t know.” Something in my gut curled when I repeated the faerie’s warning to myself. It will come for you—for all of us. “But I have a feeling we’ll know before long,” I whispered into the night.

Rina remained on her back, the moon above us reflected in her wide eyes. She was purely human, yet she fought by our side on this journey, stepping into conflicts that were not her responsibility. For so long, she had shouldered so much more than she should have to.

“Rina?”

“Hm?” she hummed.

“If you weren’t here, if the war hadn’t happened and”—I took a breath—“your parents were alive…” She inhaled sharply. “What would you be doing with your life?” She was twenty-one with endless opportunities.

She turned her head to me and swallowed visibly. “I don’t know.”

“What did you want to do—before?”

I listened to the sounds of the forest, punctuated by the deep breathing of our friends while Rina considered her answer. I loved this time of night—when everything was still for a moment. Like the earth held its breath.

“Sometimes I thought I would become a healer. My mother loved it.”

“That would be nice to honor her,” I agreed, remembering her mother’s gentle hands tending to wounds and how her daughter mimicked it.

“But when you all started the more rigorous training schedule, I wanted to do something physical, too.” Her eyes searched the stars for an answer. “I started taking dance lessons. I think I’d like to do something with that.”

Santorina had always been graceful, but I remembered that summer when the boys and I had been thirteen. We had been required to attend longer days of training and had hardly seen Santorina. It was the first time I’d truly felt the differences between our kinds.

Though I regretted never inquiring into her hobby before, I liked knowing that she had something she loved.

“That would be perfect for you,” I said, rolling onto my back. “I’d like to see you dance sometime.” I could picture her on one of those large stages in Palerman’s arts district once repaired fully, spotlights gilding her. Leaping, twirling, every move controlled yet effortless, like she was floating. She’d be beautiful.

And if I did not live to see it, I’d guide her as a Spirit should, ensuring she found all the happiness her heart deserved.

After a beat of silence, Rina muttered, “I’m sorry about today.”

I looked at the white light across her face and something warm flooded my chest. Similar to the feeling of a large sip of rum, yet different. More…peaceful, less blurry. I nuzzled into the sensation, letting it spread through my tired body.

“None of it was your fault. It was the damned fae male.” The words were ash in my mouth as I watched the slight pink line on Rina’s neck bob with each swallow.

She nodded slightly. “I need to train. I never want to be caught unaware again.”

“Of course,” I answered, guilt slicing through me at her fear. Why had I not insisted on this before? I had always strived to protect my friends, not considering that maybe they could protect themselves. “We can start tomorrow.”

She reached beside her and handed me the dagger I’d lent her for the duration of the day. “This is yours.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You can keep it.” It was one of the set Cyph had given me, but I had a feeling he would not mind us sharing them.

She nodded a second time, tucking the weapon to her chest. “The next time our paths cross with that faerie, he’ll bleed.”

I smiled at the steel glint in her eyes, the image and warmth in my body pulsing as I drifted to sleep. “That he will.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Why had I hated spears my entire life, when fighting with Malakai’s in my hand felt so right?

Each time my arm slashed, I barely felt my conscious decision to make the maneuver. Like the weapon was an extension of myself. Even Jezebel could hardly keep up with me as we sparred, the sun beating down on us high in the sky.

“Don’t look where you’re going to strike before you do it,” my sister coached, using the sleeve of her leathers to wipe sweat from her brow. “It’s the only way I’m stopping your attacks right now. They’re otherwise undetectable.” Pride seeped into her words. Pride and a hint of relief as she caught glimpses of the side of me that she missed.

And I felt it, too, watching her in her element after such a perilous journey thus far.

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