Page 16 of Heirs of the Cursed (A Curse for Two Souls #1)

15

Dawnfall

The members of the Blood Moon Circus were forced to continue the shows in Conrad’s absence, ordered to raise the necessary vramnias to prevent his retaliation. It was her love for them that pushed Darcia to work to the point of exhaustion.

She found it hard to rest, her energy draining even in sleep. Persistent nightmares showed her disturbing images: ruins of a forgotten kingdom consumed by stone and darkness, prayers lost in time, shadows calling her name and pleading for her to yield to them.

But Darcia kept her head held high, concealing the dark bags under her eyes with the golden mask, until the flames of the torches burned down and the circular arena where she performed plunged into blackness. The crowd’s applause still echoed in her ears as she made her way out of the tent, where Bassel and Caeli awaited her in their respective ringmaster and dancer outfits.

“You were incredible! And our profits are beyond expected,” Bassel said. “I hope that Conrad will be satisfied.”

Darcia ducked her gaze at the sound of her stepbrother’s name. No matter how many vramnias they got, it would never be enough for him. He was greedy, and though the money would sustain the circus members for a while, a part of her feared that he would use it for his own gain.

Caeli leaned against the threshold of the dressing room door and crossed her arms. “I’m starting to get tired of them. The soldiers know they aren’t welcome and yet they keep coming.”

“There are no brothels here,” Darcia reminded her. “We’re the only entertainment they have.”

“They could go back to their bloody capital,” Caeli replied angrily. “I bet they have all kinds of entertainment there that they can profit from.”

“Keep your voice down,” Bassel whispered, holding up one of his dark hands. “They could be wandering around the tents.”

“Well, I hope our seer has some decency and sticks her crystal ball up their—”

At the sight of a young woman walking toward them, Darcia interrupted her girlfriend, “Sadie!”

Sadira smiled jubilantly at her. She was still wearing an apron stained with flour and chocolate, and in her hands, she held a silver tray with nothing but crumbs.

“I wanted to bring you the leftovers from the bakery,” her friend laughed, “but I ran into the children and . . .”

“They ate them all,” Bassel finished for her. He walked over to her and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. “I believe you, sister. It’s the intention that matters.”

She rolled her eyes before hugging both her brother and her best friends. As they parted, she looked at Darcia with a worried grimace.

“Are you okay? You look paler than usual.”

“She hasn’t been sleeping,” Caeli answered before Darcia could think of a lie.

“Nor eaten,” Bassel added.

“And I bet she hasn’t drunk any water either,” Sadira said with an arched eyebrow.

Darcia glared at them. “It’s not that.”

“Yes, it is,” her girlfriend replied. “You barely speak these days. You move by inertia and even your shows, incredible as they are, seem designed out of tiredness.”

Darcia wanted to object, but the words left her before she could speak them aloud. Bassel must have noticed the hundreds of emotions she was trying to conceal, for he leaned closer to her and stroked her back.

“Tell us, what’s troubling you?”

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to tell them about her dreams and tribulations, afraid that they would want to know more. All that the curse of stone and shadows, the Fallen Kingdom, and the Dark Twins promised was chaos that would sweep through Laivalon if no one found a way to stop it.

Gion had always told her that fear was a difficult disease to eradicate, and she didn’t want to be the one to spread it among the people she loved. Nor did she wish to lie to them. So Darcia looked once more at the faces of the people who had been with her all along, at her family, before daring to tell them the truth.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking of the curse and the missing princesses. Of what it means that they are nowhere to be found while the world perishes.”

“Perhaps that is their intention,” Bassel said, tense. “To destroy those who betrayed their family.”

Sadira frowned as she asked, “Why would they want to destroy Lên Rājya?”

“Kirus has been an enemy of the Boreaalinen family for a long time now.” Caeli twirled the braided bracelet on her wrist. “And revenge is served on a cold plate. There are debts that must be settled, in one way or another.”

“I still find it hard to believe that there are hearts so dark that they would accept the death of innocents in order to punish their enemies,” Sadira replied.

“The world is cruel,” Darcia said, “and there is nothing more dangerous than a heart torn by hatred.”

Silence embraced them with the coldness of a treacherous lover.

“The king’s soldiers won’t stop until they have killed the princesses,” Bassel voiced their deepest fears.

“That’s what worries me.” Darcia admired the circus through the raffia of the tent; children scampered about and laughed as the adults tried to send them to sleep. The people seemed cheerful, but she could sense their uneasiness. “I worry that such hatred will overtake us all and that we won’t be able to help anyone.”

If that were to happen, darkness would rise, and only light would be able to stop it once and for all.

Darcia walked in silence with a troubled mind. She’d spent some time playing cards and marbles with the children, and read them one of the many stories they loved so much. When the sun set, she accompanied her friends and girlfriend safely home and left for the cabin.

The crickets’ chirping slowly faded into an eerie silence, the night aware of her presence. Darcia hugged herself against the cold and did her best to ignore the gusts of wind heralding the new storm that would sweep through the city.

When the sound of branches snapping behind her reached her ears, she stopped in her tracks, alert. It wasn’t unusual to encounter animals in Ferus Woods; from wild boars to deers, wolves and rabbits, they always appeared and fled in a hurry. But this time, the sounds were different, too heavy to belong to an animal.

Someone was approaching.

Darcia took the dagger hanging from her belt and gripped the hilt tightly. It was a simple blade, but the metal was sharp enough to cut at the slightest carelessness. Beautiful and dangerous, just as Bassel had once described it.

Her breath fogged in the air, yet she remained still, twirling the dagger between her fingers as she waited for danger to strike. Though she had no training in weapons or fighting, that didn’t stop her from spinning on her axis and hurling the dagger toward the source of the sound.

The shadow caught it in mid-air.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you to aim for the heart?”

Impossible.

“ You .”

The thief smirked at her from beneath the mask. “I’m glad I’ve made such an impression on you that you remember me.”

Though his face remained veiled, the piercing emerald hues of his eyes locked onto her without the slightest hint of shyness. As a torrent of fury surged within her, Darcia’s cheeks flushed with a fiery blush.

“You tried to kill me.”

“No, gorgeous. I was trying to steal, and you interrupted me,” he corrected her.

“You’re the Midnight Thief,” Darcia said with bated breath.

“It’s not a title I’m fond of. People aren’t very original.”

“Criminals shouldn’t have titles,” she spat, crossing her arms to shield herself from him.

His gaze brightened at the insult. As he raised his arm in her direction, Darcia took a step back. Even disarmed and exposed, she wasn’t so naive to trust him. Weapons hung from the belt across his chest and hips, many of which he could use to kill her.

But the Midnight Thief simply offered her his hand and sighed exaggeratedly when she didn’t take it.

“You can always call me Alasdair, if you like it better.”

“Surely that’s not even your real name,” Darcia scoffed.

“Why would I lie to you?”

In Laivalon, liars abounded as much as murderers and ruffians did. People believed that darkness and evil were part of Ro’i Rājya, but the dryadalis had also shown Darcia that they weren’t to be trusted. And according to the stories she’d heard about him, the masked man had earned not only his title but many others just as dangerous.

“Because you’re a thief.”

“And that makes me a liar?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“An insufferable one, from what I see.”

Alasdair laughed.

“I don’t understand what you’re laughing at,” Darcia said, irritated.

“You’re very funny.”

“What part of throwing a dagger at you and insulting you do you find funny?”

“I think it’s a combination,” he replied.

Rage boiled in her veins as she growled, “Leave my city.”

Alasdair remained silent for a short moment, playing with the dagger she’d thrown at him. Each movement was calculated, each twist of the blade a precise dance, the rings on his fingers clinking as they struck the metal edge.

“I’m just taking a walk in the woods.”

By the Triad, he was so irritating.

“Don’t play dumb. People don’t have much to live on here. If you want to steal somewhere, go to Camdenn or Bellmare, where people waste and live in all sorts of luxuries.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, gorgeous.”

“Don’t you understand how hard it is to live in a city where no one can afford three meals a day? Where children must beg in the streets just to get a few vramnias to feed a whole family. Where they must work from a young age to survive . . .”

“Are you speaking for the children or for yourself?”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh, that’s for sure. But I notice a tone of familiarity in your speech.”

Darcia didn’t give him the satisfaction. She wouldn’t explain to him what she’d survived or what she’d done for it. Although her life seemed settled—loved by a gentle, sweet father and blessed with a stepbrother who provided for the family through his business—it was far from perfect.

There had been a time when she hadn’t even had Gion, a time her mind had erased and whose memories now remained blurred by shadows that protected her. But even so, caring for those she loved had become a second nature to her, and the people of Dawnfall shouldn’t have to pay for the selfishness of someone like Alasdair.

“The people of this city matter to me,” Darcia replied sullenly.

“People you don’t know?”

“People who, if they were to die, no one would know they were gone. Those who have money can afford a funeral, people can be mourned. But many of us will disappear into oblivion and no one will notice our absence.”

The bitter taste of bile rose in Darcia’s throat. It pained her to think of herself in that way, but why would her death be any different from the rest? Her father and friends would mourn her, spending all their money to give her a proper burial, only to be left to starve in the streets.

“Perhaps stealing is a matter of life and death,” Alasdair said.

“If you were, you wouldn’t steal from people in the same situation as you.”

“I value my life much more highly than the lives of others.”

“You have no heart,” Darcia spat in disgust.

“That may be true, but if it keeps me alive, I’ll remain heartless.”

Darcia rolled her eyes, annoyed at his selfishness. She approached him swiftly, but as she tried to snatch the dagger from him, Alasdair raised it above his head, a smirk glinting in his eyes.

“ Give me my dagger ,” she commanded.

“Why?” Alasdair watched the blade gleam in the moonlight. “So you can try to stab me again?”

“I will.”

“You’re extremely violent.”

“Give me my dagger,” Darcia repeated.

The darkness of the night grew more suffocating, and the sudden howling of wolves froze the thief in place. They were nearby, watching over someone in their pack. Darcia almost smiled. Still, he didn’t seem to fear the wolves. She noticed a strange familiarity in his expression as he listened to them.

Alasdair turned away from her. “I think I’ll keep it, until the next time we meet.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Have a good night, gorgeous.”

Before she could think of her next move, the Midnight Thief vanished into thin air.

Darcia wanted to scream, frustration and anger flooding her senses all the way home. She should have used her magic to force him to return the dagger and drive him out of Dawnfall.

She fought against the dangerous urge to go after him, quickening her pace as distant thunder roared in the sky. But as her hut came into view, a shadow flitting through the open door forced her to stop.

Her father bid farewell to his guest with a subtle nod, and as the door closed behind him, Darcia squinted to recognize Harg’s intimidating stance. He scanned his surroundings cautiously before holding up a dark cloth bag that concealed something inside—something that eluded Darcia’s discernment. He then whistled three times into the night sky, and a bird swooped down to rest on his arm.

After stroking the hawk’s feathers and tying the small bag to its leg, Harg sent it soaring into the eye of the storm. Darcia caught a glimpse of a grin on the Chaser’s face before he vanished into the clutches of the night.