Page 5 of Cursed (Wicked Heirs #2)

Pacing wasn’t going to solve anything.

Neither was sitting on the window seat chewing on my fingers or picking at my nail beds.

The blanket-covered grimoire lay on the floor at the end of my bed, and even though it was shrouded, its whispers still clawed at the edges of my sanity.

When one of the silent servants came to deliver my breakfast, I took a chance.

“Please,” I begged the woman, whose eyes darted nervously around as if she feared that we would be overheard or interrupted at any moment. I wondered for the hundredth time what they had been told about me—were they even allowed to speak to me? “Could you ask— Could you tell Lucian that I would like to walk in the gardens? Just for a little while?”

She hesitated, and desperation burned in my chest. Being confined within these walls was suffocating— but even worse, I was trapped in here with that… thing.

I needed air, sunlight—something to distract me from the dark thoughts that coiled in my mind. “It won’t take long,” I added eagerly. “Just a quick walk to clear my head.”

With a reluctant nod, the servant set my breakfast tray down on my vanity and left the room at a quick pace.

I slid off the window seat and tiptoed toward the bed. I paused in front of the fireplace and glared at the lump under the blanket.

My stomach growled.

I pressed my lips into a thin line.

It’s just a book, just step over it.

But the thought of getting near it was too much.

Instead, I set my knee on the end of the bed and crawled across it. I kept my eyes on the book as I moved and slid off the bed on the other side. I walked toward the vanity with careful steps and pulled the lid from the covered plate that had been brought for me.

The scent of freshly baked bread made my mouth water, and I grabbed for the pastry and pushed it into my mouth without taking my eyes off the book.

What if Lucian said no?

I chewed on the pastry and fretted. If he said no, there was nothing I could do. I’d just have to wait.

I wondered if he was doing it on purpose—to force me to open the book. Force me to give in.

This house.

The men in it…

They all wanted my submission.

But they couldn’t have it.

I’d rather die than—

A knock at the door made me whirl around, and then the door creaked open. A different servant stood in the doorway, her voice a stiff mask. “Master Lucian has agreed to your request,” she said sternly. “A guard will accompany you when you are ready to leave.”

A shape loomed behind her. My escort.

I swallowed my mouthful so quickly that I almost choked.

“Thank you—” I said between coughs.

The woman’s eyebrow rose, but she didn’t comment. Her smile was thin as she stepped back through the door and pulled it closed behind her.

I didn’t care about the guard; the mere thought of stepping outside filled me with hope.

I dressed quickly and slipped into a pair of black velvet ballet flats.

I wrenched open the door and bit back a cry of surprise as one of Lucian’s bodyguards glared down at me.

I smiled weakly.

“I’m ready—”

He grunted in response, an unpleasant, guttural sound that sent a shiver down my spine. Despite the hint of spring in the air and my undeniable eagerness for what lay outside, his icy gaze made me feel small and helpless all over again.

Wordlessly, he turned on his heel and led me down the grand staircase and through winding corridors that seemed to stretch on endlessly. I followed in silence, and my pulse kept time with my steps.

As we exited the house and approached the threshold of the garden, a sense of serene calm washed over me. The tension wedged firmly between my shoulder blades loosened slightly as I took a deep breath of the rain-soaked air.

The guard allowed me to walk ahead of him, and I meandered through the winding pathways with a sense of relief in my chest, even though he followed close on my heels. The twisted branches of the sculpted trees were still bare, but every so often I glimpsed the evidence of the approaching spring. Beside the path, a patchwork of vibrant greens and pinks sprang forth around each bend. My body moved autonomously, more familiar with these paths than I admitted even to myself. Every once in a while, I’d glance back just to see the guards standing close by; watchful, silent—a grim reminder of my reality.

I also wasn’t sure if he was there to protect me—or to keep me from doing something I shouldn’t.

If any of Lucian’s sons were to come to the garden, would he keep them away from me? Or was I still in danger?

I wandered deeper into the garden and stretched my hands out into the flowerbeds to let the vibrant petals brush against my fingertips as I searched for a sliver of peace.

The twisted ivy spiraled around the gnarled trees, and their dark beauty was both alluring and foreboding—I suppressed a shudder as my vivid nightmare sprang back into my mind. The vines—

I remembered the way they had burned as they tightened around my wrists and ankles—

I shook my head, trying to dispel the vision, but it clung to me like smoke. Those vines, dark and coiling, tightened around my thoughts and I shook my head to try to force them to dissipate. I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on the garden, but the plants seemed to twist around me, the flora becoming more grotesque with each passing moment. Shadows danced in the corners of my vision; I was convinced they were watching me, waiting for the moment when I would falter.

Tears pricked at my eyelashes, but I blinked them away.

As I turned a corner, my breath caught. A figure leaned casually against a gnarled tree, half-hidden by the shadows—Valen. He emerged from the gloom like a phantom and his tousled hair caught the dim light, framing a face that was both familiar and unsettling. The sardonic smile that tugged at his lips sent a shiver down my spine, an instinctual reaction that screamed danger even as attraction flickered to life within me.

“Who let you out of your cage, little bird?” he taunted.

“What do you care?” I snapped. Despite the unease that pooled in my stomach, my chin lifted defiantly. I stepped back, wary of the unpredictable energy that radiated from him.

I glanced over my shoulder, but the guard was nowhere in sight.

Damn him. Of all the times to abandon me…

His stained hands—darkened with what I could only assume to be dirt—clutched a bundle of delicate flowers. Their leaves and pale petals curled just a little, as though in agony. He noticed my distraction and held one flower out to me, and then he seemed to reconsider and tucked it back into the bouquet before I could take it from his hand. “Picking flowers in this garden is a dangerous game.”

I didn’t want to be curious, but I was. “Why?”

His smile was brief. “They’re more than a little poisonous.”

“Then why do it?” My voice wavered just a little, and I hoped he wouldn’t notice my nervousness. “Won’t you— won’t you— Won’t they harm you?”

“No one else will do it,” Valen replied with a shrug. He pulled a small vial from his pocket and the glass caught the weak sunlight in a flash that blinded me for just a moment. He uncorked it with a practiced flick of his wrist, and my heart raced as I watched him bring it to his lips.

The liquid inside shimmered like liquid night and my instincts screamed at me to stop him, yet I remained rooted to the spot, captivated by the recklessness of his actions.

“An antidote,” he explained before he tilted the vial back and swallowed the contents in one swift motion. His gaze locked onto mine, searching for a reaction as I swallowed hard.

“I can’t decide if you’re brave or insane,” I choked out.

“Maybe a little of both,” he said. He stepped closer, and the shadows enveloped him like a cloak. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “You don’t look well, sister— haven’t you been sleeping?”

His question echoed in the empty spaces of my mind and sent another chill racing down my spine. What did he know? Was he the one who had been invading my dreams? Or did he simply enjoy toying with my fears?

“What— what are the flowers for?” I blurted out.

Valen looked down at the bouquet in his hand.

“They’re for my mother,” he said.

“Oh— Is she here? I didn’t—”

His expression didn’t change. “She’s dead,” he replied.

“I— Are you taking them…” Shit… what was I supposed to say? “Is she in the family tomb?”

I didn’t know what I was saying, and the words rushed out of me. I should have stayed quiet, but I couldn’t stop myself.

Valen’s expression shifted, but only for a moment. “No,” he said softly, “my mother is buried here. In the garden.”

I couldn’t help my gasp of surprised horror. “But— Why— wasn’t she—”

“Married to Lucian?” Valen snorted. “No. She wasn’t.” He paused and then his gaze sharpened. “Didn’t you know? I’m a bastard. Titus and Bastian like to remind me of it whenever they can.” His voice held a bitterness that wrapped around each word like barbed wire.

“You— you’re not like them,” I mumbled.

“Aren’t I?” he snarled. “Do you know what it’s like to be unwanted, sister?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. “To wear the mark of your father’s disdain like a shroud? I am the shadow in a family of monsters—” His words sliced through the silence, raw and jagged.

My chest was tight, and I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but reminders of betrayal curled in my mind, tight as the thorns of the dark vines that snaked through the garden. “But you can choose—” I countered softly, my voice trembling slightly. “You could walk away from it all.”

“Walk away?” He laughed bitterly, and the sound echoed against the gnarled bark of the trees, sharp enough to send a shiver down my spine. “And leave my brothers to their designs? Leave them with this inheritance? No, I’m bound by blood, just as tightly as you are by fate.”

His vulnerability stirred something within me—a curiosity that threatened to unravel the threads of caution I had woven around my heart. I could see the lines of doubt etched on his face and the conflict that raged beneath the surface. What did it mean to be trapped by one’s lineage?

“Being unwanted…it must be lonely,” I murmured, not quite able to suppress the empathy tugging at my heartstrings. “But don’t you want more than this—”

“I earned my place here,” he snapped, “and I intend to keep it.”

The instant Valen stepped closer, any tenderness I felt vanished. The scent of the poisonous flowers filled my nostrils, and I brought my hand to my mouth to shield myself from the deadly blooms. Valen leaned in and his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Tell me, sister, do you ever dream of vines?”

The words struck me like a bolt of lightning, seeping deep into my bones. My breath hitched, and all at once, the pale warmth of the sun disappeared behind a cloud, leaving only icy dread in its wake. How could he know about my dreams?

“Vines that bind, perhaps?” His expression shifted subtly, shifting from playful to something darker, more knowing.

“Stop,” I managed, the word escaping like a panicked gasp. I stumbled back as panic clawed at my throat. The memories of those suffocating tendrils wrapped around me in the night surged forward, vivid and terrifying.

“Avril, wait—”

But I couldn’t listen. The fragile connection I thought we’d had shattered like glass as fear surged through me, relentless and consuming. Without a second thought, I turned and ran.

“Come back!” Valen’s voice echoed behind me, tinged with something like desperation.

But I didn’t look back.

Valen’s words reverberated through my mind, a chilling echo of intimacy that I had never invited. How could he know?

Shadows stretched like grasping fingers, twisting and curling, just like the nightmares that haunted my sleep and panic clawed at my throat.

“Avril, wait—” His voice cut through the fear, but it was like a knife drawn against my skin, sharp and dangerous.

I couldn’t linger, not when every instinct screamed that I was being hunted.

The sound of crunching stones beneath my feet drummed a frantic rhythm, drowning out the echoes of Valen’s voice behind me.

“Stop!” he called, but I wouldn’t listen.

I couldn’t.

My blood surged with the urgency to escape, to put distance between myself and the man who knew too much. Every step propelled me closer to safety, yet deeper into the grip of uncertainty. Had he been watching me? Creeping into my dreams and twisting my thoughts with his dark magic— I’d thought it could be Bastian… but Valen— Why did that hurt more?

I looked over my shoulder to see if Valen was following me, but the artfully sculpted boxwood bushes blocked him from my view. As I careened around a corner, I slammed into a solid object.

“Oof!”

I tumbled to the ground in an untidy heap and my palms scraped against the damp paving stones.

The guard loomed over me, and his face was an impassive mask, carved of pale stone as he peered down at me.

I scrambled to my feet, and he reached down to grab my elbow and hauled me up the rest of the way.

My palms stung and my side was wet and muddy.

Valen’s laughter echoed faintly from the twisted pathway, and I shivered as I watched the mist snake through the naked trees.

I tried to wrench my arm out of the guard’s grip, but he held me tight.

“I have to— Please—”

The guard let out a grunt and turned back toward the mansion, dragging me with him.

It was useless to struggle.

The guard remained impassive as he dragged me up the stone steps to the mansion entrance. His tug jerked my arm uncomfortably, causing a sharp dullness of pain to flare through my shoulder. I gritted my teeth and offered no resistance.

Finally, we reached the imposing doors of the mansion. They groaned as they opened and I stumbled into the foyer.

The guard released his grip, leaving a neon glow of pain in its wake.

The guard led me straight to my chambers without uttering a single word.

I should have been grateful.

I couldn’t predict what might have happened if I’d been left alone in the garden with Valen and his poisoned flowers.

But gratitude was impossible.

How could I be grateful for this treatment?

The guard stopped in front of my door and I fixed him with a glare. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

He didn’t answer, and I had to guess that he couldn’t do it.

The servants could enter as they wished, but my stepbrothers couldn’t pass the power of the sigils without my permission, and neither could the guard.

Irritation prickled through me.

I reached out and grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and pushed the door open.

“Thanks for nothing,” I snarled as I walked past him. The subtle curtain of the protection spells skimmed over my senses as I entered the room.

I kicked the door shut and relished the sturdy click of the lock as it fell into place.

I slipped out of my ruined flats, stripped off my muddy slacks, and threw the exquisite cashmere sweater into the corner of the room.

As I wrapped myself in the fluffy bathrobe that hung on the back of my vanity chair, I paused as I caught sight of my reflection.

The smug smile on my face didn’t belong there—the fierce sensation of justification wasn’t… Wasn’t me.

What’s going on…

My gaze went immediately to the floor in front of the fireplace where the Bloodstone Grimoire lay—

But it wasn’t there.

“No—”

The blanket I’d thrown over the cursed book had been folded neatly over the end of my bed, artfully draped.

The grimoire—

My heart was in my throat as I walked through my room, looking for it.

The curtains were closed, and I paused just in front of the window.

The air felt different—thicker—and I reached out with a shaking hand to wrench the heavy damask curtains back.

Pale sunlight, filtered through dark gray clouds, poured into the room and I flinched.

The grimoire lay on the window seat, as though it had always been there. Waiting for me to open it and study its pages.

Fuck.

The stones embedded in its surface gleamed dully and seemed to wink at me as I dared to step closer.

The pulse of its malevolent magic was impossible to ignore, and my palms throbbed with a sharp pain that made my breath hiss through my gritted teeth.

I had to resist it… I had to.