Page 38 of The Curse of Ophelia

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Jezebel swatted us away.

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“I mean it.” She flashed us the cut on her shoulder that was already healing thanks to her warrior blood and shoved herself to her feet. “Let’s just get out of here before that thing returns. Or its pack shows up.”

She marched away from us to where Elektra pounded her hooves in the dirt. I watched her go, unease creeping through my stomach at her unusual avoidance.

“What do you think it was?” Rina asked.

Cypherion shook his head, wiping sweat from his face. “I’ve never seen a thing like it.”

“It felt ancient,” I said, remembering its stare and the way it felt familiar. “Powerful.”

“Well, whatever it is, let’s leave before it returns. We’ll never find out if we’re dead.” Tolek didn’t take his eyes off the path when he spoke, but once Cyph and Rina turned away, he put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I looked him over, ensuring he was in one piece before I answered. “I’m fine. No more midnight swordfights, though.”

He smirked as we turned toward our horses. “That’s for the best. I’ll find another way to win against you.”

Once we were marching to a new camp, senses alert after the attack, I looked at my sister from the corner of my eye. Her tawny eyes were bright in the darkness, wariness and confusion still stuttering behind them. She was shaking, but something else swam to the surface of her gaze: a burning desire that I wasn’t sure even she understood.

*

By the time the others settled down to sleep, dawn was quickly approaching. Too anxious to rest, I volunteered to keep watch. I had a feeling no one would find peace, though. I couldn’t get the vision of the winged beast from my mind.

And its claws—as sharp and deadly as both its dagger-like teeth and the look in its eye. A shiver went down my spine as I imagined its gaze traipsing over me again. Whatever it had been, it was cruel and ancient.

I inhaled, flooding my lungs with much-needed crisp air, and wrapped my fingers around the pin my grandmother had given me. Its presence calmed me, guided me.

When my lungs felt full to the point of bursting, I slowly released the breath through my lips, a nearly silent hiss following the motion. Then, I repeated the pattern five more times, trying to release the image of that beast and my sister beneath it with each breath.

I reached a hand up, toying with the leaves on the hanging branches that draped to my chin. They were unique, the color of fresh apples. Vibrant and unmarred, as so much of the nature in our lands was. It was ironic that the people could suffer so severely, but magic kept the world pristine. I guess in people, the power only healed our external injuries. It left those on our hearts and souls to bruise.

Even then, there were some things that magic couldn’t heal. I ran my thumb across my wrist, thinking of one.

The green-gray pattern continued to grow slowly. In the heart of the Curse, the spot where I could feel it burrowing deepest into my blood, the veins darkened to an onyx. That root crawled deeper within me, making itself at home beneath my skin.

As I sat there, looking intently at my wrist, I felt one of the Curse’s extremities wrap itself around a vein, claiming me. My stomach rolled with nausea, and I braced my forehead against my knees.

You will not take me, yet. I repeated the affirmation to myself, thinking of Damien’s prophecy. I had a job to do before I could die, and after tonight, that task felt so much harder.

Footsteps sounded behind me, muffled by the soft grass.

“Santorina,” I muttered, straightening my spine and pulling the leather of my sleeve down, pretending the pain on my wrist wasn’t excruciating.

Rina folded her legs beneath her in the grass next to me. “How did you know it was me?”

“Louder footsteps,” I answered without looking at her. No warrior blood.

“Right” was all she said.

“Thanks for helping her,” I whispered, looking over my shoulder to where Jezebel lay curled in the grass, Tolek and Cypherion on either side of her. We left our sleeping mats when we fled the beast, but they had given her the one blanket that made it out of the camp with us.

“She’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” And I did—but I couldn’t forget the fact that there was a moment when I thought she might not be. I didn’t voice the guilt that ate at me every time that image flashed to my mind. It had only been one Spirit-forsaken day on this journey, and already I felt like I was unraveling. I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

“You cannot blame yourself.”

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