Page 1 of Between These Broken Hearts (Cursed Stars #2)

They don’t fear me in this body. Obedience comes with hesitation. With doubt. So I teach them the cost of their uncertainty, burning their fields and their homes with the flames that should be mine to command,

burning it all to ash and painting the horizon in the reds and oranges of my rage.

She locks her power away from me, even now. Even weak as she is. But I will command it when the time is right. The seers have

foretold this. They think they can steal my destiny. They think they can keep me away from my rightful life, my rightful court,

my rightful throne.

I will take it all back or I will burn it to the ground.

“Princess. Pretty, pretty princess. Wake up now, you foolish girl.”

The words are too far away. A shout from a distant realm. A call from the shore to my submerged body.

Sleep has me in its grasp. Weakness weaves around my bones, worming its way into my muscles, forbidding me to do so much as

open my eyes.

The ring. I know it’s the magical ring that is stuck on my hand making me so useless. Pushing me closer and closer to death. I’m teetering on the edge, peering into the abyss, craving the relief from this whole-body ache.

“Come now. Enough of this.”

A cup is pressed to my lips—cool ceramic prying them apart before something hits my tongue. Thick, warm, and sweet.

My eyes flutter open to see the faerie leaning over me, a steaming mug in her hand. “I need to go to Feegus Keep,” I tell

her. Tell myself . I shouldn’t need to be reminded. Mordeus is using me—to kill hundreds, to bring himself back to life—and I won’t be the

reason he returns for good. Kendrick thought Feegus Keep might hold the Sword of Fire, a sword that he says will open a portal

to anywhere you want to go, a sword that can kill anyone . I need to find it and end Mordeus. I can’t undo my mistakes, but I can do this.

I look around the room. It’s not too dark to make out the silhouette of the short, stout female at my bedside, but it’s dark

enough that I never would’ve chosen this place to rest if it weren’t for the ring’s magic weakening me.

I pick through the cobwebs of my thoughts, trying to remember how I got here. I was staying with Kendrick and his friends

at Ironmoore, an Eloran settlement, when the town was attacked by a wyvern. That night I dreamed the most awful thing—about

Kendrick being someone else, about him working with Mordeus.

Then I found out that every session of torture Mordeus made me endure in his dungeons was blood magic, and that now, because of that and this ring, Mordeus has some level of control over my consciousness.

He used me to do horrible things. This ring makes me a murderer with death’s kiss, and some of those deaths I chose.

The people who worked for Mordeus and tortured me in those dungeons? I wanted to watch them die.

I never would have guessed that I was personally resurrecting Mordeus with each life I took.

The female snaps her fingers in my face. “No more sleeping. You’ve done enough of that.”

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice raspy from lack of use. “Where am I?”

She flicks her fingers and the lantern at my bedside flames to life. “Climb out of this bed now,” the faerie commands, yanking

the piles of blankets off me. Her thinning gray hair is pulled into a knot at the crown of her head and her pale skin has

a yellow undertone. She flicks my arm with her thumb and forefinger.

“Ouch.” I rub away the sting, but I do feel a little more awake. Is this her house?

When it became clear that my horrible dreams were actually Mordeus’s memories, I left Kendrick. I climbed into a farmer’s

wagon and was far from Ironmoore when I remembered my goblin bracelet and asked Gommid to take me somewhere I could sleep.

Somewhere I’d be safe. Where did he bring me?

“Now.”

My mind is too fuzzy to piece it out and I’m too tired to argue, so I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

I vaguely remember Gommid grumbling about my foolishness, about how he warned me about the ring. The last thing I remember

is ignoring his rant and crawling into a soft bed. This soft bed? Maybe, but I was too feeble and sick to pay much attention to my surroundings.

How long did I sleep? I feel better than when I called for my goblin, but weakness still nips at my heels. Maybe I just need

some food. It’s been too long since I’ve eaten anything.

You need the Sword of Fire. You need to find Mordeus and fix what you’ve done.

Coffee. Food. I just need something in my stomach, and I’ll be okay. Then I can find my way to Feegus Keep and hunt down the sword that legend says can kill anyone.

Food. Sword. Mordeus .

I still have the ring. I can do this. I meet the elderly faerie’s eyes and let the Enchanting Lady’s thrall fill my voice

as I say, “Could I trouble you for some dinner?”

She shoves the steaming mug into my cold hands, ignoring my request. “Hurry now. Drink more of this.”

I bring it to my lips, greedy for more of the sweetness she used to wake me. “Thank you.” I sip, and this time I’m awake enough

to identify the flavors dancing on my tongue. Warmed chocolate spiced with cinnamon and clove.

The concoction soothes my riotous stomach as it goes down.

She studies me. “I trust you slept well.”

“I—” I shake my head. Who is this female? She called me princess . How does she know who I am? “Yes, thank you. Could you please make me some food?”

She rocks back on her heels and frowns as she looks me over. “Stick with the drink for now. It’s too soon for food.”

I frown at my ring. This ring makes everyone do my bidding. The only ones who have been immune are Abriella and Kendrick. And now this faerie. “You don’t want to make me food? Even if that’s what I want?”

She props her hands on her hips. “You should consider yourself lucky I didn’t kick you out of my house. Ungrateful child.”

Her house. Does Gommid know her? Did he know he was bringing me to her house? “I’m sorry. I thought...”

“You think I should be bowing at your feet because of that ridiculous ring. I know.”

I instinctively check my mind for the shields Misha taught me to hold in place before realizing it shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t

need my shields when I’m wearing my ring.

“If you hadn’t noticed, goblins are immune to that particular enchantment.” She sticks out her hand. “Fherna, pleasure to

meet you.”

I blink at her as I take her hand. A goblin. Of course. I should’ve realized sooner. “I’ve never met a female goblin before.”

“You probably have. You just weren’t paying attention. Just because our male folk spend their time escorting ungrateful creatures

around doesn’t mean there are no females. Didn’t your mother teach you about the birds and the bees, my girl? About how babies

are made?”

I bite my bottom lip to hold back a laugh before I realize—I feel like laughing. The cloying sickness from wearing the ring

during the day has dissipated.

“It’s the drink,” Fherna says. “It mutes the pull of the magic.”

My heart sinks and I put down the mug. “I need my magic. I need—”

“Don’t be foolish,” she says, nudging the mug back toward me. “Your enchantment is intact. The drink mutes the magic’s ability to draw from your life force.”

I glance down to my mug and then back up at her. I don’t know anything about this creature, so I’m not sure I should trust

her so readily, but I’ve already come this far—sleeping in her bed and drinking her offering. I might as well listen to what

she has to say. “Explain?”

“Magic is life, my dear. Life is magic. A ring that powerful was brought into being only because you sacrificed so much of

your life to have it, but magic takes on the qualities of its creator. A magic like this is hungry . It takes and takes. It will draw from you until there’s nothing left.”

I shake my head. “I have until my eighteenth birthday. I have—”

“Don’t misunderstand,” she says, “that ring won’t kill you. He’s worked too hard to let that happen. But he wants it to keep

you hovering around death until your bargain is complete.”

I set the mug down on the bedside table and gather my thoughts. It’s getting easier. Whatever she put in that drink is allowing

me to think clearly for the first time since leaving Kendrick and the others. “Why are you helping me?”

Her face goes solemn. “Because if I don’t, everything changes.” She nods to my cup. “If you plan to find a way to defeat Mordeus,

you best finish that.”

My breath catches. “How do you know all this?” This is why Kendrick never wanted to use the goblins. They know too much, he

said. It seems they do.

She narrows her eyes. “I understand your exposure to goblins was limited when you were a child, but nearly four years you’ve lived in this realm. How do you understand so little about the creatures around you?”

I know that goblins are always collecting information. I know that they are the keepers of the history of the realm. “Then

tell me, will I find what I’m looking for—will I find a way to defeat him—at Feegus Keep?”

She barks out a laugh. “We know facts. We know history. We aren’t seers.”

“You just told me everything changes if you don’t help me.”

“That’s not seeing. That’s logic.”

Nonsense. Why do goblins always speak in nonsense? I take another sip of the warm chocolate and reframe my question. “Is the Sword of Fire at the keep?”

“It was once, if the rumors are true. Mordeus was said to have used great magic to shield the sword from anyone but himself.”

“And I can use it to destroy him?”

“The girl asks so many questions but has given me nothing in return.”

I turn up my palms. “What do you want? My hair? Nail clippings?”

She wrinkles her pointed nose. “I cannot be bought with such tawdry scraps.”

“Then what?”

“I want you to wake up,” she snaps. “To fight .”

“I’m trying . I’ve only just found out about Mordeus using me to come back. I came here only to rest before I leave to retrieve the sword.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “If you want me to fight, tell me how. Tell me my plan will work.”