Page 10 of Cursed (Wicked Heirs #2)

I was desperate to tell someone about what our father had done— but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to Titus.

Not yet.

My older brother was unpredictable at the best of times, and when it came to Avril, I knew I had to tread carefully.

But Valen, he might be able to help me decide what to do. Or at least how to approach it.

We were close enough in age that we should have been the best of friends… but he was a bastard.

I’d spent most of my life hating him, especially when Lucian brought him to Withermarsh and pushed him between Titus and I.

Now he was an heir to the Romano legacy, just as I was.

Valen was always in the garage. If he wasn’t in the garden with his cursed plants, he would be buried to the elbows in his project motorcycle.

The garage rose before me, a shadowy cavern where the air was thick with the scent of oil and metal, a mixture that clung to my skin like an unwelcome embrace. I didn’t enjoy fixing my bike—I only wanted to ride it. Valen mocked me for my carelessness, but I didn’t give a shit. I had more important things to do than tinker like an old man.

My boots echoed against the floor, each step deliberate, but I wasn’t even sure that Valen could hear me over the thud of his music and the metallic cranking that echoed over the space.

Valen knelt beside his motorcycle, hands deep within the engine’s guts. His tousled brown hair obscured his eyes, and concentration etched his expression. The tension radiated off him, and for a moment, I pondered whether that focus stemmed from the task at hand or from something else— Had Avril stolen away his quiet moments, too? I didn’t want to admit how completely she’d captivated me.

And that little interlude in the shower had only sharpened my cravings.

“Hey,” I called out, “got time?”

Valen’s hands stilled immediately, suspended in the grimy depths of the engine. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just us and I wasn’t sure if he’d snap at me to fuck off or if he’d be willing to talk. Everything had been balanced on a knife’s edge since Avril and her mother had come to Withermarsh. Now only Avril remained.

Valen’s brow furrowed and the lines on his face deepened.

“Time for what?” he replied. He didn’t look up, and there was irritation in his tone, but I didn’t care. Valen was more honest when he was pissed off. His fingers gripped the wrench with a white-knuckled intensity as he remained hunched over the bike.

“Avril has the Bloodstone Grimoire,” I said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather.

Valen’s expression sharpened. “How— How did she get it?”

“How do you think?” I snapped. “Lucian gave it to her.”

“Fuck.”

I flicked a piece of metal off the workbench and watched it bounce along the concrete floor. “I guess that answers that question—”

“What question?”

I leaned against the bench and crossed my arms over my chest. “Titus thought it was impossible— that Lucian was actually going to go ahead with the marriage— I have to admit, I doubted it… but now—”

“How do you know she has it?” Valen snapped.

“I have my sources,” I replied vaguely. “And before you ask… They’re very reliable.” I relished the way Valen’s mouth twisted. He focused on the motorcycle again, but I knew I’d hit a nerve. There was no reason for me to be an asshole, but it came naturally and there was no taking it back now.

“What would she do with it, anyway?” Valen growled without looking at me. “She’s not strong enough to use it properly. She’ll probably end up hurting herself before she figures it out.”

“Maybe,” I said. “She definitely would have wasted a lot of time if someone hadn’t shown her how to open it—”

The wrench slipped out of Valen’s hands and clattered to the concrete floor. “What?”

“She’s quite taken with it,” I said, letting the insinuation hang tantalizingly in the air.

“What have you done?” The accusation in his tone was clear as he stood and glared at me. I didn’t answer. After a moment of silence, he pushed a grease-stained hand through his hair and swore as he realized what he’d done.

Valen’s anger simmered in the grimy air of the garage. His glare pierced through me, but I couldn’t flinch. We were well matched when it came to our magic, so I wasn’t afraid of him, but I couldn’t afford to fight him—not now. The grimoire had taken more from me than I wanted to admit.

“Bastian,” he started, his voice low and dangerous. “Tell me this is one of your sick games.”

I lifted my chin in defiance and met his gaze evenly. “Why would I lie about something like this?”

“You shouldn’t have involved her with that damn book,” Valen snarled, his hands clenching and unclenching as the tension between us escalated.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her struggle with it until Lucian got tired of her and—”

“Don’t fucking say it,” Valen cut me off, rounding his motorbike and coming towards me. Anger radiated off him, but beneath it was a worry that I hadn’t seen before. An edge of fear that had nothing to do with the grimoire and everything to do with Avril.

“Valen,” I began, but my attempt to calm him was met with a glower that could have shattered stone.

“You don’t understand,” he growled, fists clenched at his sides. “You’ve handed her a weapon she doesn’t know how to wield! It’s not like teaching her how to ride a damned motorcycle, Bastian! This is the Bloodstone Grimoire!”

“If she doesn’t know what she’s doing, then it’s not going to be dangerous,” I said, brushing off his concerns. I knew better than anyone what the grimoire could do… “She’ll read it, nothing more. She’s not strong enough— the grimoire won’t want her the way it wanted—” I let my voice trail off.

Valen stiffened at my words. His eyes narrowed as he studied my face, searching for some hint of deception. But he wouldn’t find it. I had a reputation for spinning tales and playing games, but when it came to Avril… Well, things were different than they used to be.

“Bastian,” he pleaded, “tell me you’re lying.”

I looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not.”

For a moment, he just stood there, silent and tense as a predator readying for a strike. Then, with a string of curses hanging in the air between us, Valen spun on his heel and strode out of the garage.

“Where are you going?” I called after him.

“To talk to Titus,” Valen growled.

No, not yet.

“Hey!” I pushed away from the workbench and ran after him. I grabbed hold of his elbow and yanked him back, but Valen let out a grunt of surprise and lashed out with his magic to knock me back.

My boots skidded on the stained concrete, but I didn’t stumble.

“We need a plan,” I said. “You can’t just… march up to Titus and tell him—”

“Can’t I?” Valen shot back.

“No!” I snapped, losing patience. “You do, and he’ll go straight to Lucian. And then all of this,” I gestured vaguely to the surrounding darkness, “will go up in fucking flames.”

The lines on Valen’s face deepened as he turned from me and brushed a hand through his tangled hair. He was silent for a long moment before finally turning back to me. The anger had faded somewhat, replaced by something more akin to desperation.

“Then what are we supposed to do?” He asked, his voice hard but not hostile. It wasn’t an invitation for a fight, it was a genuine question. And that worried me more than anything else.

For once in my life, I didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t know,” I confessed quietly.

“Then we’re fucked,” Valen growled and kicked at a piece of gravel bleakly.

“And Avril?” I dared to ask.

There was silence for what felt like eternity before Valen spoke again. “We have to protect her from that book— and from Lucian.”

I nodded, although I couldn’t figure out how we would do that—or what it would cost us. Lucian seemed to know everything before it happened—and if he knew we had planned to undermine him, there was no telling what might happen.

“But how are we supposed to do that— I don’t know how Titus is going to react… How do we plan for something like this?”

Valen snorted. “Great, so we’re just gonna wing it? I can’t believe you don’t have a plan. You always have a plan. I thought you’d come here to gloat—”

I shot him a glare, and my patience thinned. “If you’ve got a better idea, feel free to share.”

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the occasional rustle of nocturnal creatures within the forest that crowded the borders of the estate. Valen stared back at me defiantly, but offered no suggestions.

“Well?” I challenged.

“Alright,” he reluctantly admitted after a while. “We have to talk to Avril—”

“About what?”

Valen shook his head. “She’s not stupid, Bastian. If she’s aware of the dangers....”

“You think she’ll willingly give up the grimoire? She wouldn’t just… hand over that kind of power.” I folded my arms over my chest skeptically.

“If she knows that it will put her in danger?” Valen shrugged. “Yeah, I think she would.”

A humorless chuckle slipped past my lips. “You have a lot of faith in her.”

“She’s not like us,” he insisted. “She’s innocent.”

“Nobody is innocent, Valen. Not in this world.” I looked out at the dimly lit estate and the shadows creeping up on us from the surrounding forests. “Especially not when they get tangled up with the likes of us.”

He didn’t argue this time. Perhaps he was finally beginning to understand the reality of the situation.

“What about Titus?” I pressed.

Valen sighed heavily, leaned against the garage door, and rubbed at his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “We need to approach him carefully. Avril’s gotten under his skin—”

“No shit,” I grumbled. “But what if—”

“Bastian,” Valen cut me off sharply and turned to look directly into my eyes. His gaze was hard as steel. “Enough with the ‘what ifs’. We’re doing this.”

“But—”

“Shut the fuck up!” He thundered, silencing me with a level glare. “We need to show Avril what she’s dealing with and talk to Titus about how we’re going to handle Lucian.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know whether you’re being brave or stupid.”

Valen ignored me and started towards the manor with a determined stride. He paused, only to toss me a glance over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

With a sigh, I fell into step with him, and matched his slow pace.

The damp chill of Withermarsh wrapped us in its tight grip and shadows stretched around us as we neared the imposing structure that we called home.

“Remember,” Valen warned as we passed the wrought-iron gate, “we need to keep this quiet. Last thing we need is Lucian hearing about this.”

“You act like I’m new to keeping secrets,” I scoffed.

“You’re new to keeping secrets that matter,” Valen snapped. “We also need to play nice,” Valan added as if an afterthought, his gaze never wavering from the manor’s towering entrance. “Titus won’t be happy about this.”

“Was he ever?” I chuckled venomously. I received a warning glare from Valan in response. His sooty mood was contagious, but I wasn’t about to let foreboding dissipate my spirit—not here, not when what awaited inside was bound to be ten times worse.

As we neared the entrance, its grandeur did nothing to mask the sense of dread that hung like the scent of rotting leaves in the crypt-like halls.

“How are we going to get Avril to trust us?” I asked. “She hates us—”

“We need to convince her,” Valen interrupted. “She came to us for help once—”

“And we turned her into a bet,” I said with relish.

Valen shot me a look, but he said nothing. He’d been the first to take advantage of her—he just didn’t want to be reminded of it.

I shrugged and kept my gaze on the towering, foreboding structure of the manor. “It doesn’t matter how it happened—”

“No,” Valen cut me off again, and I heard the barely suppressed fury in his voice. “It matters , Bastian. We screwed up, and now we’ve got to fix it.”

“Says the man who loves playing the hero,” I shot back and rolled my eyes at his sentimentality.

“Says the man who cares about consequences.” He turned to face me, and his dark glare was intense under the silver glow of the moon. “You’re always so busy stirring up chaos, you never stop to think about what it costs.”

I wanted to argue and shatter his self-righteous demeanor with a cutting remark. But words failed me at that moment—because maybe he was right.

After what seemed like an eternity, I found my voice again. “We need a plan that doesn’t involve us dying or getting disowned—”

Valen nodded grimly. “Or Avril getting hurt,” he added.

“Or that,” I agreed, begrudgingly. We trudged in silence for a moment, each consumed by our thoughts, until we reached the double doors of the main entrance to the mansion.

“Side door,” I said. “We can’t go in the front—”

Valen paused for a moment and then nodded and changed direction to take a path that wound around the manor. “We can’t claim to be doing this for Avril while planning to protect our necks at the same time,” he said.

I looked at him incredulously, “What are you talking about—”

“We need to be willing to risk everything,” he said without looking back at me. “Lucian won’t take kindly to our intervention.”

Compromise wasn’t something that came easily to us Romans. Losing wasn’t something we did. Whatever the cost might be, someone else always paid it. That’s what had brought us to this point—and it was how our power had grown over the years… I didn’t know any other way to be.

But Valen was right.

“Alright,” I sighed after a lengthy pause, “I’m in.” Valen nodded once and then stopped short. The door was hidden, but not from us. He raised his hand and pressed it against the stone wall of the house. The pale blue smoke of his magic wrapped around his fingers and then worked its way between the stones. Mortar cracked and crumbled as the doorway revealed itself, and Valen stepped back as it swung inward.

“After you, brother,” he growled.

“Very kind,” I quipped as I stepped past him and ducked into the darkened hallway. I didn’t feel prepared to talk to Titus—but Valen seemed determined. If that’s how he wanted it to be, I’d let him do all the talking. Titus was more likely to lash out when he was angry—better him than me.