Page 16 of Between These Broken Hearts (Cursed Stars #2)

The feeble old crone who occupies the chambers in the southernmost tower of the Midnight Palace doesn’t rise when I enter

the room. I grit my teeth at the insolence but don’t let myself lash out against her. Good seers are hard to find, and Karmyn

is one of the best. In return for her skills, I allow her to march to her own beat. Even when it makes me want to break her

neck and watch the life drain from her eyes.

“It’s taking too long,” I say, fighting to keep my voice down. “Abriella should’ve brought me the book by now.”

“She will,” Karmyn says. “You simply need to be patient and she will bring everything you ask right to your throne.”

I clench my fists at my sides. The human peasant brought me the mirror already, just as Karmyn said she would. She took the

bait when I bought her sister, just like Karmyn said she would. Now she will bring me the Grimoricon , and after that the crown. “Patience. Fine. If I can finally rule this court from the throne, I will find some patience.”

Her blue-gray eyes go unfocused and she slowly shakes her head. “No. You don’t live to rule from the throne.”

“What?” I throw my power out at her and lift her from her chair. “What did you just say to me?”

Only when she claws at her throat do I loosen my magical hold, allowing her to draw in breath. “I told you before I cannot

control whether you will like what I see. You made me promise to give you the truth regardless.”

I did. I’ve executed half a dozen seers in the last year alone after discovering they were telling me what I wanted to hear

instead of the truth. When I brought in Karmyn, this was the promise I asked. In return, I released her son from my dungeons

and provide a meager allowance to feed her grandchildren. I release my magic completely and she sags , her body going limp with relief. “Tell me. When did you first see this?”

“Only now, Your Majesty.”

“Why not before? What’s changed?”

“The fate of a whole realm can change on something as small as a shift in the winds. I cannot tell why I get visions when

I do.”

Death. Death before I claim what is rightfully mine. Death before I come into my full power by wearing my brother’s crown.

“I won’t have it.”

I lost three more days to sleep before Fherna woke me again, or so she told me. This time, she dragged me to the dark forest

while I was still groggy with sleep, the memories of my dreams making me feel like I was seeing the world through Mordeus’s

eyes.

“I can’t keep breaking the rules for you,” she mutters as she leads me deeper into the trees. “Risking everything for a fool

who would give in so easily to a bargain that’s still incomplete.”

“What rules? Bargain with whom?”

She jerks to a stop and turns her glare on me. “Bargain with that Eloran witch. Did you forget what you traded for that cursed

thing?” she asks, waving to my hand.

“I can’t forget that,” I answer in a whisper. I want to know more—about what she means by “incomplete” in regard to the bargain,

about what she knows about the witch. If the bargain isn’t complete, does that mean I can find the witch and get back what

I traded?

My mind is swimming with half-formed questions, but it takes all the strength I have to follow her, and part of me already

knows she’s right. I need to hunt. If I’m too weak to ask questions, I’m too weak to find Mordeus.

The forest is thick and not even the night’s bright moon can break through the tree cover. I pull a glowstone from my pack

and let its light seep from between my fingers as I clutch it to my chest.

“I can only take you a little farther,” Fherna says. “You must trek through the forest alone and find the wolpertinger. Drink

the blood from its beating heart and you will have the strength to do what needs to be done.”

The darkness of the forest feels like it might swallow me whole.

She holds aside a cluster of branches and turns back to me.

“Just beyond these trees, you’ll find a grand redwood.

She soars higher than any other tree in this forest, and at her base is the entrance to the wolpertinger’s burrow.

The creature sleeps. When you reach it, make haste, for it will sense any hesitation.

If it wakes up before you grab ahold, this hunt will turn much more difficult.

Just remember: With your blood you can overcome the flame. You are built to wield the sword.”

“You’ll show me?” I ask, but then she’s gone. The branches she moved for me remain parted, as if the forest itself is inviting

me to come deeper.

“Go, Jas,” I whisper. “Just go.”

Each step is a battle with my body and my mind, but I put one foot in front of the other until I’m standing before a soaring

redwood, the promised burrow waiting at its base.

I slide my iron dagger from my side and fall to my knees.

Dropping my glowstone in the leaves, I take a breath, brace myself, then plunge my hand inside the burrow until it collides

with a mass of soft fur.

Move quickly. Do not hesitate.

I grip my dagger in my hand, preparing to strike, and grab the creature. I wrench it from its den, but as I hold it in front

of my face and prepare to plunge the blade into its chest, I freeze.

The wolpertinger is nothing more than a ball of fluff with a flat face, floppy ears, and a long tail that coils around my

wrist. Its tiny tongue darts out and licks my palm, and round, innocent brown eyes blink up at me.

A sob surges up my throat and I make myself shove it back down.

Life gives life. Do this for your sister. Do this for all the souls who would be tortured under Mordeus’s rule.

I ready my blade and the ball of fluff begins to vibrate in my hand, like a purring cat.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

It opens its little mouth, as if to beg for its life, and the purring vibration intensifies until I can barely hold on.

In the next moment, it shifts, and all the fluffy hair turns to spikes digging into my flesh, its soft brown eyes glow green and angry, and long fangs shoot out from its gaping maw.

It surges for my neck.

The spikes pierce my skin and my grip goes slippery with my own blood, but I hold tighter, bring my dagger to its throat,

and slice, hard and fast.

The creature goes limp in my hand, soft and furry again. Was it ever anything else?

I can’t let myself wonder. I need to finish what I’ve started.

I drag the blade down and rip the creature’s tiny heart from its chest, thrusting it to my lips before I can think better

of it. The first taste of its blood—coppery and salty, with an underlying sweetness too much like decaying fruit—is almost

enough to make me abandon this mission, but I force myself to bite into the tough muscle. Blood squirts hot and viscous onto

my tongue, and I gag.

Drink. You have to drink.

The words sound like they’re coming from Fherna. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or my memory or if this horrible act

has made me lose my grip on reality, but I obey. Every swallow is easier as the weakness and misery of the ring’s curse ebbs.

I need this strength. I need to find Mordeus.

Only when I’ve sucked the gristly muscle dry do I let myself stop. I drop it to the ground and then lie down beside the soft

carcass of the wolpertinger, and I cry, big, jagged sobs that are gobbled up by the trees around me.

I’m stronger, and I’m not afraid of anything in this forest as much as I am of myself, as I am of what I’ve become.

I want to see Kendrick.

It’s risky and pointless, but I don’t care.

I don’t know if Death’s coming tonight—when I intend to get that sword and use it to kill Mordeus—or in a week, when my bargain

for the ring will bring me to the end of my life. But I feel her hovering, her fingers a handsbreadth away, ready to steal

the very breath from my lungs.

I ask Gommid to take me to Kendrick. I just want to see him one more time. I just want to say goodbye.

“He’s here?” I ask when the world materializes around us again. We’re in the gardens behind the Midnight Palace.

“Kendrick the Chosen is inside. He’s taken the chambers next to yours, but you’ll have to take yourself there. As threats

have escalated, your sister has warded the whole palace against goblin travel.”

I knew Kendrick had spoken with my sister, but I didn’t expect he’d be staying here. “Thank you, Go—”

But he’s already gone.

The palace is buzzing tonight, the doors to the ballroom stand open and torches glow on every terrace, revealing the partygoers

who mingle and sip on faerie wine. Something tugs hard in my chest at the normalcy of it all. This is what my sister’s life

should look like—palace balls and hundreds of guests who adore her.

Every pair of eyes locks on me as I head inside.

Gommid said she warded the palace against goblin travel.

He didn’t say anything about her warding against me.

She said she wouldn’t, and yet as I head into the palace I find myself hoping that she did more to protect herself than she promised when I woke up in her chambers.

I don’t reply to any of the fawning compliments or meet any of the longing stares of my sister’s guests. I head straight for

the stairs, stopping only briefly at the landing that overlooks the ballroom.

My heart aches as I stare at the gathering below.

I spent three years dreading or outright avoiding my sister’s balls, and now I would give anything to stand by her side through

just one. When the female at her side turns, my breath catches. A shifter pretending to be me? Would they dare around so many

people? Or did they find Felicity?

Felicity makes a better princess than I ever did. I take a step back from the rail, not wanting to risk any of the partygoers

seeing two princesses in one night. Not that it would matter for long, since they would forget as soon as I left their sight.

The halls seem bigger than before as I navigate my way through them toward the chamber next to mine. When I get there, I enter

without knocking.