Page 53 of Magic Cursed

I search his gaze—it’s full of conviction, and I see the truth in his words. Daimis has grown into a man I’m proud of, and my heart fills with joy as I realize that not only do I trust him, but I believe in him.

I set my jaw and steel my voice. “And I vow to you that I am done being selfish. I will do everything I can to help that future become a reality.”

He swallows, and when he speaks again his voice is low and thick. His thumb caresses my cheek. “In that case, I think I’ll take over being selfish about your safety for you.”

I hadn’t realized that I was leaning so much into his touch, into him, until he releases me and steps back. “You should get some rest, Demon-slayer. It has been a long night.”

I recover quickly and nod. I really am exhausted.

Daimis closes the hidden door to his armoire and we both walk back into my rooms, shutting my armoire. He starts to walk to the door, but then turns back to me. “Don’t tell Kellan anything about tonight. We can’t risk him confronting his father with what we know.”

The mention of Kellan is like a bucket of ice water over my head. “Do you think Kellan knows what’s going on down there?” I ask, hating the way the words taste in my mouth. The thought of Kellan being a part of Baxon’s torture makes me nauseous.

Daimis shakes his head. “No, he’s too noble for what’s going on down there. He’s not perfect, but I don’t think he would cross that line.”

Relief eases some of the tension in my shoulders.

“And if anyone asks, tell them we were sparring again tonight. It will explain our weapons and our state coming back, in case anyone asks the guard if we left our rooms. The good news is, we both have an alibi with one another.” Daimis opens the door. “Sleep well,” he says and disappears into the hallway.

I strip out of the cloak and dress and burn it in the fire. I’d rather Mrs. Dower think it lost than wonder about the creature’s blood splattered on it. After I wash off in the basin, I crawl into bed. I sleep with my father’s journal under my mattress, not ready to face his words just yet.

Chapter15

Harvest Moon

For the next couple of weeks, I use all my free time to go through the magic book Daimis and I found in the cavern. We also spar every night, and I finally feel like I’m back to the strength I had before the incident with the shadow demons. It’s the day before we leave for our quest and I’m frustrated that I can find nothing that will give me any clue about the shadow demons, where they came from, how to defeat them, or about the power that brought them here; my father’s power—my power. I put the magic book into the hidden chamber and head back into my rooms.

I know exactly which book has the best chance of giving me the information I seek, and yet I’ve been avoiding reading it. My father’s journal. I pull it out from under my mattress and stare at it. Our family symbol on the front is burned into the deep brown leather, forever branding it. The words within will be burned into my mind in the same fashion. I absently trace the tip of my finger into the grooves of the intricate knot design.

I’ve pushed so much of the days before the Blood Moon out of my head. It’s much easier to think of my father as the evil sorcerer. I can hate that man. It’s infinitely harder to face the loving father he was before. If I’m being honest with myself, I miss that man every day.

“Ugh, just read it, coward,” I murmur to myself. I take a deep breath and slump into the chair by the bed. I tentatively unlatch the small book. On the first page, he wrote the year of the Blood Moon. Staring at the handwriting, I feel a fist tighten around my heart. As I read the entry, I blink back the tears threatening to fall.

Today Sahra learned how to cloak herself. She’s a natural magic user. Got it on her first try. When I was her age, it took me several attempts before I had it. I worry about the strength of her magic at such a young age. The burden may be too strong for her little mind. I may have to put a block on her magic for a time. She’ll still be able to access it, but not all at once. As she gets older, I'll slowly release the block.

A block? Is that what kept my magic from surfacing all these years? He wasn’t here to slowly release the block. But the dragon. . . the dragon did it all at once. My mind goes back to Hydenglen. To Desmira not wanting me to go to the dragon cliffs. She must have known. She probably couldn’t release it, but she knew the dragon could. Is that why she didn’t want me to go to the Southern Isles? Because she knew I would have a hard time controlling my magic? The thought brings anger and resentment, and I squeeze the journal in my hands. Why didn’t she just tell me? What other secrets was Des hiding from me? I tuck the thoughts away for later and skip a few pages.

The magic block was successful, though others have already started murmuring about Sahra’s incredible ability after an incident when she and Daimis were playing. Humans fear what they do not fully understand, and I worry about Sahra’s safety.

I turn to another entry.

Sahra and Daimis’s friendship continues to grow. I am grateful they have each other. They are stronger together than apart. They already have fierce protectiveness for one another. But more than that, they laugh together and challenge each other. That will be good in the coming years.

As I read on, I quickly learn this entire journal is about me. There are no ravings of a madman about to lose his mind to the burdens of magic. He sounds like a father who was worried about his daughter. Who loved her. Like wisps of fog creeping into the cracks of a room, grief wedges its way into my heart until everything is shrouded in it. Until it settles like a weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I feel like that lost little girl on the run again, begging for the Gods and Goddesses to just bring back her daddy so he can make everything right again. Hot tears fall down my face and I suck in ragged breaths. According to this journal, the most hated man in all of Thaaryn was undoubtedly a loving father. How do I contend with that? How do I hate what he did and love who he was? I allow myself to cry, to mourn once again, but only briefly, because I’ve learned if I give grief too much time to settle, it’ll become viscous and paralyzing.

I dry my tears and take in steadying breaths. I need to focus on what my father wrote means. It sounds like he thought Daimis and I would be facing something in the future. Was I being groomed to be Daimis’s First, as my father had been the King’s First? I turn more pages and continue reading, now immersing myself in the passages.

There are many more of the same. My father writing about Daimis and my friendship. There is even mention of Kellan and my father’s concerns that the boy was bullying me. My father didn’t have any proof to bring to the King and he had to tread carefully because of Kellan’s father’s prejudices toward magic users. Toward the end of the journal, he speaks of Daimis’s and my fight.

Daimis overheard Donavan and me talking last week, and he now knows of our future plans.

What future plans?

He was angry and ran off. Since then, he hasn’t spoken much to Sahra. I can see it pains her more than she lets on. The boy suffers as well, but he is too stubborn to let go of his anger. We will be leaving and heading home soon, and Daimis does not want to come with us. I just hope Daimis and Sahra mend this rift before we leave. I may have to talk to the boy soon.

The passage ends and the next one is dated a month later.

I received a letter today threatening Sahra’s safety. It wasn’t signed, but I suspect Galen, the King’s third.

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