Page 24 of Heirs of the Cursed (A Curse for Two Souls #1)

23

Dawnfall

Inside the mayor’s mansion, the music reverberated against the windows as people celebrated and danced.

Chandeliers cascaded from the ceiling like summer rain, while the flames of the candles flickered in the breeze from the open windows. A wave of colors, clothing, and people illuminated the room as the doors swung open to let Darcia and her father in.

They walked through the crowd with their hands clasped tightly together. When some of Gion’s old friends approached them, she promised her father she’d find him before the evening was over.

Darcia was used to being stared at during her spectacles, but still found it difficult when she was so exposed. She embraced herself, scanning the room in search of Caeli and her friends, who had promised her that they would meet her to spend a dreamy night.

Her heels rattled against the marble floor to the rhythm of the beautiful waltz that the musicians on stage played for the guests. Needing something to focus on, Darcia kept her gaze on them, searching for comfort. One of the violinists stared at her intently, his brown, tousled hair preventing a clear view of his face.

Dance, he seemed to tell her. Indulge yourself.

Yet, embarrassment washed over Darcia as she leaned against one of the colossal columns, with her arms folded. She continued to stare with bated breath at the musicians, the entertainment of the evening.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen them play. If she wasn’t mistaken, they were the street performers that the people loved. They had been in the city for months, providing their services for all kinds of festivities in Dawnfall. The mayor must have been so delighted with them that he’d invited them to play in his private ball.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Darcia recognized that rough voice; she’d grown used to it since the soldiers’ arrival. She turned to face the Chaser, noticing the smirk etched across his scarred face. The sincerity of it unsettled her—part of her believed he wasn’t as bad as people said, while the other urged her to be cautious.

Dressed in a black suit, Darcia could make out chinks of tattoos on his lower neck and forearms, where the shirt was slightly rolled up. Harg Koller looked different from the general the world knew, yet the golden sword that hung from his waist was a reminder of what he truly was.

A killer.

“Sir. Koller.”

“That’s not necessary, Darcia. You know that.”

“Well, we don’t want to tarnish your reputation as a bloodthirsty general, do we?” she asked with a hint of icy irony.

Harg fixed his gaze on her, his expression shadowed with quiet pain. “I think we could skip the formalities for one night. I’m not here as a threat, but as a friend.”

Darcia looked away, her stomach churning at the contradictory emotions surging through her. Maybe it was time to give him a fair chance; after all, he’d always treated her with courtesy and respect. She nodded one, a silent invitation that allowed him to stay.

Harg cleared his throat and held out one of his hands from behind his back. “These are for you.”

Her eyes widened at the sight of the exquisite bouquet of deep crimson roses. With trembling hands, she accepted the gift, her heart fluttering with a mixture of surprise and gratitude.

“By the Triad,” she gasped, accepting the flowers. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’ve been the only one to treat me kindly, even given my reputation. I’m new to making friends, but I think they do give each other gifts from time to time,” he said with a shy smile. “I’ve made sure they don’t have any thorns.”

Darcia stared at him for an overlong second, trying to decipher the man who showed himself to her, so different from the one his soldiers knew. She always saw the best in people, or at least she tried to. And for some reason she couldn’t help but see Harg Koller for what he hid behind the mask: a noble man.

The melody suffered a momentary dissonance that made her ears squeak.

“As long as no one died in the process . . .”

Harg let out a laugh. “Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“It’s a small apology for last night.” Harg locked eyes with her, and in his gaze, she saw genuine regret. “I didn’t behave as I should have.”

Darcia shook her head, watching the flowers glow under the candle flames. “I wasn’t the nicest person in the world either. Having the army in Dawnfall has made us all more tense than usual. I should have watched my manners and my words. I’m sorry for that.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Darcia.”

She set the bouquet down on one of the tables and looked at her surroundings. “Should I be concerned about the absence of women at the feast?”

“You’ve noticed,” Harg guessed.

Of course she had. Since the public announcement that had been made in the city, mentioning the relevance of the princesses in said matter, the soldiers wouldn’t only go after those who could be related to them. No, they would also focus on the young women in order to confirm that none of them were hiding in plain sight.

Darcia had wondered several times if she’d even seen them, if she’d interacted with them without noticing. For the sake of the Dawnfallians and the rest of Lên Rājya, she hoped they were hiding somewhere remote like the Vaesian Islands, or the desert lands to the east that few ventured to.

“In a world like this, women have to look out for each other,” she said, succinctly. “If they go after one, they go after all of us.”

“For the moment being, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s a routine interrogation,” the Chaser explained. “The lack of information is forcing us to take these measures.”

“And shouldn’t I be with all these women afraid of being wrongly accused of something they are not?” Darcia questioned.

“I asked my soldiers to spare you, so that I could interrogate you myself.”

Darcia shifted uncomfortably. Caeli should be with Sadira right now, escorted by the Royal Army . . . Confused about what was happening.

“Nothing is going to happen to them, is it?” she asked nervously.

“I have ordered that they be treated with respect, Darcia. Look, I’m not here to upset you. I just . . .” Harg sighed. “Grant me a dance at least. Let us talk like civilized people. Just one dance, then I will leave without further interruption.”

With a penetrating gaze, Darcia surveyed the citizens around her. People who had resorted to living on the streets just to share the little food they earned. She admired their wholehearted commitment, their willingness to give everything, even if the goddesses didn’t reward them for their selflessness.

She lowered her gaze to the Chaser’s hand and placed hers upon it in solidarity.

“Only one dance, my friend.”

Harg smiled, as if he were the happiest man in Laivalon.

Up on the stage, Alasdair couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He knew he was taking too great a risk. When he joined the band on the streets of Dawnfall, they played at night, the shadows concealing his features. Yet, driven by an inexplicable force, an overwhelming urge to search for Darcia overtook him.

Alasdair had ventured to her house, dodging the soldiers until he reached her window and had asked her if she’d attend the stupid ball. His curiosity knew no bounds, leading him to expose himself again for the purpose of talking to her. The wall he’d built around himself should have been enough to stop the feelings he entertained; an effort that had taken years for the ice armor to prevent any feeling.

For once, the goddesses had surprised him.

Perhaps that was what it was all about, a necessary balance: the boy who cared about nothing and the girl who cared about everything.

He should have left Dawnfall once he’d gotten what he’d long been looking for and carried on with his plans. Still, there he was, standing on an absurd stage with a violin in his hands as he watched her walk toward the dance floor.

The music pulsed through his veins, but his attention was focused on the woman who had taken over the ballroom. Not for dancing with Harg Koller, nor for the beautiful dress that enhanced her curves or for the halo of mystery that her boreal eyes delivered even while caged by a silver mask.

It was her .

Alasdair had come to the conclusion that he wanted to know her. That he wanted to be a part of her life and understand how a heart could continue to beat with such goodness despite being so shattered. He wanted to understand her out of intrigue, or maybe, deep down, he needed to.

With a promise in mind, he pressed the violin beneath his chin and played, letting the music isolate his thoughts. And all that time that Darcia was dancing, Alasdair Hale kept his eyes on her.

Darcia was grateful that Harg guided her through her clumsiness. The dance wasn’t complicated, but she hadn’t attended a highborn ball in a long time, and while she was a skilled trapeze artist and illusionist of renown, dancing had never been her thing.

Harg spun her around twice before he spoke, “I didn’t want you to feel threatened,” he confessed, locking his hazel gaze on her. “It would have seemed rather unfair.”

“And isn’t it unfair to threaten the rest of the women in this city?” She raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“We haven’t threatened anyone. As I told you, we have been careful.”

“That word isn’t very common among soldiers, am I wrong?”

Harg evaded the question masterfully. “I preferred to be the one to ask you the questions.”

“Fine.” She spun around and let the Chaser catch her in his arms. “Then ask.”

“What can you tell me about your life?”

Darcia analyzed him slowly. She remembered nothing of her childhood until she was four years old. As Gion had told her, she was found in the forest, in the company of two wolves, and brought to the hut. She had no injuries and didn’t seem ill. They’d asked her several times about her parents and all she’d been able to do was gesture to the woods.

Left to her own fate, a lost cause.

“I grew up in Dawnfall for as long as I can remember. My father raised me in the cabin you visited.”

“What about your mother?”

“I never knew her,” she replied, a surge of revulsion rising within her. Lisabetta didn’t deserve to have her name tarnished by being called the mother she never had. “According to my father, she was an animal caretaker. People in the village would come to her when their chickens were sick or when the mares gave birth. She was the only person who could get along with any creature.”

Harg smiled kindly at her. “Your parents have very common magic in the world of the dryadalis. Yours, however . . .”

Darcia bit the inside of her cheek, nervous. As comfortable as she felt talking to Harg, he was still loyal to the Crown. Since she’d lied about her supposed mother, she had to be convincing, for a girl found in the middle of the forest was suspicious enough.

“Father told me that she had family in Ro’i Rājya. My maternal grandfather was a daimon, so that would explain my rare magic.” She took a breath and paused. “As far as I know, her family died long before the curse spread.”

One day, Darcia asked her father why her magic was so dark. She’d been too young to understand, but still remembered what Gion had told her. Love between dryadalis and daimonas wasn’t uncommon and, from those forbidden unions, many half-breeds were born. Not as dangerous as the daimonas, the Two Bloods had always been shamed and viewed as a disease too difficult to eradicate.

Out of fear or hatred, Darcia had come to believe that the power coursing through her veins was the reason her birth family had abandoned her.

“You certainly have a good relationship with Gion Voreia,” Harg stated.

“My father is my family,” she offered, a genuine warmth softening her features at the thought. “I don’t know what would become of me without him.”

“Family is important.”

After a quick set of feet, Harg took Darcia’s hand above her head and tilted her to the side, supporting her body to keep her from falling to the ground. The general led the dance with grace and experience, as if he’d participated in them more times than he would like to admit.

“You don’t have a family?” she asked.

“I have a brother. My commander.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “The commander of the Royal Army is your brother?”

“Not by blood, but we grew up together. We trained, played, and suffered the king’s punishments side by side. He helped me in difficult times, when I had nothing to fight for. I owe my whole life to him.”

Darcia detected a deep affection in his voice. It was very strange for someone like Harg not to have had something to fight for at some point. Still, she was too familiar with that sentiment to doubt it.

“It must be hard to be separated from a brother.”

“How do you feel about being separated from Conrad?” At his words, Darcia stopped dancing. The general regretted it as soon as he noticed the expression on her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s all right,” Darcia interrupted him with a soft smile. “I’d like to have a drink, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Allow me.”

She accepted his outstretched hand and let him guide her through the crowd to one of the tables. By instinct, Darcia searched the room for the violinist who kept staring at her. A shiver rippled through her body like an energetic caress and faded as quickly as the Chaser handed her a glass of champagne from Hamleigh.

She took a tiny sip.

“When I’m around Conrad, I feel like a caged dog,” Darcia admitted, providing him with the answer to his question. “I guess not all families are meant to love each other.”

“Has it been that way all your life?”

Darcia nodded. “When my magic first manifested, he saw a great opportunity. We’re twelve years apart, so by the age of sixteen, he was already capable of deceiving even the smartest of men with just a small trick. That’s when he came up with the idea of setting up a circus of freaks, as he calls it.”

“And you’ve been working there since you were four?”

“At first they were easy illusions, especially with kids my age,” she explained, unable to look him in the eye. “I knew what they liked because I had fun showing it to them, too. It started out as a game I had to play every day, but it wore me out and my father began to wonder if I was sick. It was from the age of twelve when it became an obligation. Either I did it or I suffered the consequences.”

Harg placed the crystal glass on the table, before his hand burst it to pieces. “What consequences?”

The faint sting of tears burned her eyes. Darcia wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Not now, not ever.

“All the people in that circus are my family, just like the people in this city. I grew up amid the smell of freshly baked bread, the ink of the scribes in the square and the depths of Drych Lake. I have explored Mubarak Forest with my father and admired the Gilded Peak Mountains from afar.” Darcia could almost feel the sense of freedom caressing her soul. “It may be a small, secluded city, but as far as I know, there’s no one dangerous here. Everyone has a good heart and fights hard every day to survive. They don’t need more fear and terror.”

Harg was silent, reflective.

Darcia didn’t expect the general to understand; Conrad had never understood either. Her life might have been hell in many ways, but her heart was still beating. The world had failed to bring her down, for the people of Dawnfall had rallied to her aid. That made her indebted to them.

She took another sip from her glass of champagne, feeling bubbles pop in her throat as exhaustion shook her violently.

“I’m afraid it’s late. If you have no further questions for me, I think we can consider this party over.”

“One more question.” Harg stepped closer, his tone light. “When you were little, did you used to get sick a lot?”

Darcia hesitated. “Not that I remember. I mean, I used to go out in the woods a lot in the winter, and my father kept scolding me for not wearing enough warm clothes. But beyond my feverish periods in the winter and allergies in the spring . . . Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Harg nodded, an indecipherable feeling running across his face.

Relief, perhaps?

He held out his hand to her one last time and she took it with a greater assurance than she’d felt before. The general could hide under the mask of his duty, but if he’d shown her anything that night, it was that there was much more beneath it.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Voreia,” he bid farewell, leaving a chaste kiss on her hand.

Darcia smiled at him again with sincerity. “Have a good night, General.”

As soon as she said those words, the Chaser disappeared into the crowd.

When the music died down, Gion and Darcia returned to the hut. He asked her about the bouquet of roses in her hands, but she didn’t dare to tell him that it was a gift from Harg Koller. It would be an unnecessary worry for her father, especially considering that he wanted her to leave the city because of the soldiers’ presence.

They chatted about the party while they drank tea from their old mugs. Her father told her about his fellow scholars with whom he’d been reminiscing about the old times, and not long after, Darcia bade her father goodnight.

She took off her high shoes, the exhaustion that coursed through her body made her think that she could sleep forever. She placed the bouquet of roses in a beautiful vase before turning to the open window in her bedroom.

The name of a certain unbearable thief crossed her mind, but the sight of a female silhouette sitting on the mattress of the bed made Darcia breathe normally again.

“Hi,” Caeli greeted.

Darcia dropped her shoes and ran to embrace her girlfriend. “By the Triad, Cally! Are you all right?”

“I am, so is Sadira. I left her at her hut fifteen minutes ago.”

“What happened?” Darcia broke away from her and guided them both to sit on her mattress. “I need you to tell me everything.”

“I will, but first . . .” Caeli pointed to the pillows. “I believe you have an admirer.”

Darcia turned her head. On her side table lay another bouquet; this one composed of red tulips. Her mouth fell open in astonishment.

“What is this?”

“I think there’s a note in it,” Caeli said.

An envelope as golden as Darcia’s hair lay slightly crumpled. It had no name, no signature. A scent of wet earth flooded her senses. She had to move the paper closer to the candlelight to make out the handwriting. It was rather sloppy, and the strokes were quick and uneven, but it was clear that the author had tried hard enough to make it legible.

Because you actually like these.

She didn’t need a signature to know who it was: her friend from the shadows, the man from the woods. Alasdair had been so meticulous in his investigation that, not only had he discovered her name, but also her favorite flowers.

“Whose is it from?” Caeli asked curiously.

Darcia smiled. “A friend.”

Caeli read the note over her girlfriend’s shoulder, frowning at the encrypted words. Her arms hugged herself in a protective way Darcia had never seen her do before and her brown eyes drifted toward the dark corner of the room, as if her thoughts were consuming her. Upon noticing it, Darcia turned to brush a dark lock of curly hair away from her face and caressed her cheek.

“I can sense your fear,” she said, meeting her gaze with her own. “Are you jealous, Caeli Ndiaye?”

“No,” she answered immediately. When Darcia raised an eyebrow, she sighed. “Maybe . . . You look happy and it would break my heart if it were due to someone else.”

“I’ve been in love with you for the last six years. I plan to be for many more,” she assured her before kissing her hands. “You have nothing to worry about. He’s someone who seems to be willing to watch my back without knowing me too well.”

Caeli nodded, satisfied with the answer. “That’s all that matters, then.”

Without letting go of her hand, Darcia set the bouquet down on the bedside table and looked at her girlfriend. She couldn’t believe she felt insecure when she was the person she loved most in the world. She’d hate herself for making her doubt of her worth or the love she had for her, so Darcia dragged her toward the bed.

“Let’s leave the flowers and the secret admirers alone. I want you to tell me everything.”

Caeli spent an hour talking about the interrogations that took place near the forest, where the king’s soldiers had set up their small camp, far from the sight of the most curious. She told her that they hadn’t been as aggressive as she’d expected, but still intimidating. They were desperate for answers, just as she’d imagined.

Darcia, however, kept her own interrogation to herself.

At least for now.

Half an hour later, Caeli fell asleep. Darcia hugged her while stroking her hair and playing with her braided bracelet. They had always felt safe sleeping next to each other, as if they were experts at chasing away each other’s nightmares.

Darcia’s eyelids soon grew heavy as well, but her gaze remained fixed on the red tulips on the tiny, wooden table. With the pleasant feeling that someone was looking after her and seeing her for who she really was, she let sleep win over her.