Page 42 of The Lost Child

A … a blood curse?

“Like, from a witch?” I asked sharply, already berating myself for letting my guard down. We’d been here only one night, and I’d just run into these witch’s arms like a lost child, forgetting all of my training and instincts! Just like pirates, I should have known! I let me guard down, and now Canavar was suffering.

Alkdama’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t deviate her attention from Canavar, her hands still floating up and down his body.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “This curse is a decade old. Now sit down and be quiet.”

I paused. A decade old? That would be around the time he first came to the island as a young boy, or just after. I felt relief knowing no one here had been the cause, pushing back the slight twinge of guilt.

When has there ever been a witch at the pirate cove? None of it made sense.

I couldn’t summon the courage to ask Alkdama, and she was busy with Canavar anyway. She frowned over him a bit more, then snapped her hands over his face. His eyes shot open, panicked and wide. I grabbed his hand and squeezed, hovering over him as Alkdama moved away.

“Canavar, it’s me. Don’t freak out. You fell to the ground. Do you remember?”

Alkdama rolled her eyes as if I was an imbecile for expecting him to answer me. I ignored her. Just because Canavar hadn’t really talked to me yet didn’t mean hecouldn’t. I helped him sit up gingerly, but his head whipped around and trained on Alkdama, a growl rumbling in his chest.

“She was helping you. She said you’re under a blood curse. Do you understand?”

Slowly his head turned back to me, hurt and confusion in his bright blue gaze. “Master …” he rumbled out, one hand on his chest as if in pain.

I blinked. He just spoke. To me! His voice was rough and low like gravel scraping under my boot, but I understood him.

“Cutthraw has his hooks in him. He’s calling his monster back to him,” Alkdama noted dispassionately, but with an odd flare of emotion in her eyes.

“It makes him this sick just to call him back?” I asked, incredulous.

Alkdama’s mouth thinned into a single, tight line. “No. He’s making himself sick because he’s refusing to return.”

My head whipped around to stare as Canavar flinched slightly, his head ducking down as a dark flush crept up his neck. He was blushing! This large, intimidating draken was blushing!

“Canavar! What are you doing? You were supposed to return with me, weren’t you? Why did you come here?”

He got to his feet slowly and with a few winces, ignoring my question as he stretched his body and fluttered his wings to ensure everything was in working order. He didn’t say anything further, but the pointed look he gave me made his point clear: he was staying for me.

To protect me.

I crossed my arms over my chest. Foolish man. “It’s going to get worse until he returns, isn’t it?” I asked Alkdama.

She shrugged. “It’s his choice. No one is forcing you to be here, though I admit I enjoy teaching the craft.” Alkdama paused. “Technically, you could learn on your own. Other creatures need to be told and shown how and where to make each cut, what knife to use, and how deep to penetrate. Drakens, lycans, vampyres, and the like,” she said dismissively, waving her hands in front of her. Her eyes practically glowed as she grasped my hands in hers. “For us blood witches, the art is instinctual.Trust your heart, and it will guide you.”

She released me with a final pat on the top of hand. “Though don’t try anything too complicated or requiring multiple rituals. You will likely blow yourself up,” she finished cheerfully, practically skipping down the cave path and up toward the tree entrance.

I frowned, remembering the young girl seeking the advice of the older witch on her diagrams. The woman had been frustrated with her student, but hadn’t beat her for her mistakes. What would it be like to live here, among other women who could make me a better version of myself? Could one truly improve with only harsh glances and reprimands instead of bruises and welts?

“Others you said. Does that mean Canavar could learn blood magick as well?”

Alkdama rolled her eyes. “What would be the point?”

To protect himself and become stronger,I thought. Wasn’t it obvious? I didn’t say it aloud though, not wanting to anger the only person who’d been willing to answer my questions thus far.

“Could I learn to break this curse?” I asked instead.

Canavar’s eyes shot to me, tracking my movements. He could understand what I was saying well enough. He just didn’t talk much. That was fine.

“Curses can only be broken if the subject is willing,” Alkdama stressed, turning back toward the trunk of the tree. “That’s enough for today.”

My lips thinned, but I dutifully followed behind her. Canavar automatically fell in line behind me as we ascended back up toward the sunshine. I couldn’t help but run Alkdama’s words over and over again in my mind. She was clearly implying that Canavar served my father of his own will—but I knew that wasn’t true. Canavar’s will had been subjugated as a child.If he wanted to serve, he’d return at once,I thought.

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