Page 32 of Heirs of the Cursed (A Curse for Two Souls #1)

31

Dawnfall

The rope binding Darcia’s wrists had been tied with several knots, refraining her to move. Her whole body ached as fear gripped her, but the one that burdened her heart threatened to end her. She tried to scream against the cloth that covered her mouth and burned her cheeks, drowning out her pleas for help.

Darcia opened her heavy eyes, and through her blurred vision, she caught glimpses of her surroundings. Everything was plunged into a darkness that overshadowed the broken ceiling, the highest tree tops and the moonlight beyond them. Yet the smell of ashes still hung in the air, burning her from within. She couldn’t be far from the circus, just enough to have survived the fire.

The sound of footsteps churned her guts.

She wasn’t alone . . .

If Alasdair had gotten to her, she was unable to see him.

But Darcia didn’t want to see, she didn’t want to live. Because Caeli was dead, and she’d been unable to save her. There was nothing left for her. The world had lost its charm, its kindness.

She turned to one side, holding herself as the sobs tugged at her soul. Her heart skipped a beat upon the absence of her beloved’s body.

She had to find her, bury her. At least, she deserved that. So Darcia summoned her remaining strength to crawl toward the door. A low grunt rose in her throat as she tried to get up, to move forward, but her only way out seemed further away no matter what she did.

Her trembling legs betrayed her, pushing Darcia to the cold ground. Splinters dug into her arm, breaking the fabric of her dress and her skin. When the stench of blood and death reached her senses like a fragrance of sweet doom, she breathed in through her mouth to appease the nausea that rose through her throat.

Behind the door, the wooden floor creaked under the weight of a pair of boots. Fear slithered down her spine as the sound of a key working on the lock echoed through the room. Whoever it was, they’d locked her down like a wild animal. Although she felt weak, Darcia would attack the assailant and die before letting them enslave her more than she already was. Maybe she couldn’t run, but she could harm them enough to want to be dead instead.

As the door opened, her magic stirred in recognition.

“Hello, sister . Did you miss me?”

Conrad Voreia leaned against the doorframe, twirling a sharp dagger between his hands. The gemstones along the pommel caught the distant light of the fire still raging through the forest. Now that her senses came rushing back to her, she realized she was in an abandoned cabin.

He offered her a sadistic smile, one that almost made her crawl back.

“I think you and I should have a nice, little talk,” he said.

Darcia watched him intently, her face reddened with thousands of emotions. Her teeth clenched over the cloth that repressed her words, but the hot tears that burned the back of her eyes were replaced by a stare filled with her darkest desires.

With the dagger still in his hand, Conrad took a step forward and grabbed her by the hair. She tried to scream and raised her tied hands above her head, closing around his wrist to soothe the pain on her skull. Her nails tore his skin, and with an enraged growl, he shoved her to the ground.

Darcia fell over broken branches and dry leaf litter, and protected her face with her arms as her stepbrother bent down to remove the gag from her mouth with a violent tug.

“In these months that I’ve been traveling, I’ve learned a lot of interesting things. Do you want to know about it?” Despite his question, Darcia didn’t respond, which made him angrier than he already was. Conrad hit her hard across the face. “Answer me!”

Thick rivers of blood dripped down the bridge between her nose and lips, staining her clothes. Her eyes blurred before she regained her sight completely, and her body spasmed. Despite the undeniable pain that coursed through every bone and muscle in her body, Darcia refused to give him that satisfaction.

She spit blood on the floor beneath her, wishing she were strong enough to stand up for herself, to challenge him.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, Darcia?”

“Yes, master.”

“See how easy things can be when you obey, dear sister?” Conrad squatted down in front of her, stroking her face and making Darcia shudder. “I’ve heard many stories in Camdenn and Bellmare, and I’ve gathered information of great value. So much so that even the Crown and its filthy soldiers would kill for it.”

Darcia didn’t move. She didn’t even dare to look away from those disturbing blue eyes. Maybe she could scream, but she had no assurance that someone would come to her aid. Gion was gone, Alasdair too. If the goddesses had been merciful, Bassel and Sadira would be far away and safe.

Conrad’s hand traveled to her necklace and she jerked back violently. “Curious jewel, your pendant. I’ve noticed you’ve worn it for as long as I’ve known you. Do you even remember who gave it to you?”

Darcia shook her head.

“Then let me refresh your memory.”

Conrad hit her one more time, connecting his leather boot with her stomach. Darcia bent in half from the pain and coughed as she gasped for air.

“It was my mother,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “My sweet, beloved mother. The woman you killed .”

“I didn’t. . .” Darcia whispered. “I couldn’t have!”

“Oh, how mistaken you are. She’s the one who found you. A helpless child at the mercy of darkness and thugs. She said the wolves had protected you, as if you were one of their pack. You were two years old when she brought you home. And from the first moment I saw you, I knew you would be trouble.”

That wasn’t the story she knew. She tried to think back to her time before the circus, before Gion, before Conrad and his constant punishments. She tried to remember who she was and where she came from.

Nothing; there was absolutely nothing in her mind.

Her power began to churn.

“She brought you in her arms with a huge smile on her face, a smile that she never gave me.” Conrad let out a laugh of disbelief.

“She loved you, Conrad,” she said, gasping for air.

“But she loved you more. Her favorite daughter, a savage raised by wolves and goddesses know what else. An abomination. And yet she spoiled you like no other. She bought you new clothes, sewed toys for you to sleep with, and even gave you that beautiful pendant that for so many years has protected you.”

Darcia lowered her gaze to the moon-shaped pendant, where the boreal colors in the gemstone swirled with darker hues. Though there had been a time when she believed that the necklace was responsible for her nightmares, she had found safety in it as well. From then on, she held it in her hands whenever she was afraid.

“I always wondered what it was that made you so special. She scolded me every time I asked too many questions, especially when I was old enough to realize you weren’t normal,” Conrad went on, playing with the dagger between his fingers. “You got sick, you were weak . . . She stayed by your side, locked in your room, whispering prayers in adhmati.”

“I don’t believe you,” she dared to say.

“Are you calling me a liar?” he screamed in her face.

Darcia bowed her head. “Adhmati is the dead language of the Fallen Kingdom. How could she—”

“That’s what I wondered,” Conrad interrupted her and paced around her. “Your constant sickness, the necklace you weren’t allowed to take off, your strange magic, the adhmati chants . . . I turned to my father for answers, but he didn’t listen to me either. And so I set his desk on fire.”

“Fire?” she asked in a whisper.

“Surprise, little sister. I was born with the power of flames, making me the first dryad in Dawnfall to wield it in over two hundred years. People gathered in the square to celebrate, thinking the goddesses had given me their blessing. One you took from me!”

Conrad had been fire. He had been flames.

And now he was nothing.

“How would I do that?” Darcia spat, unable to believe him. “I create illusions. That’s the whole extent of my power.”

In a fit of rage, Conrad grabbed her by the throat so tightly that the air vanished from her lungs. “You took my gift from me! You, with that filthy power of yours! You took my magic and my mother!”

“Conrad . . . Let go of me,” she begged him.

“You ruined everything! You ruined my family!” His hand squeezed her throat tighter, where soon there would be marks that only time would erase yet she’d remember forever.

The tears had returned, no longer of helplessness, but of pain. She couldn’t have done those things. Darcia was a good person; she’d worked her entire life to be one. With her eyes fixed on the night sky, she pleaded for air. She wasn’t going to die in that forest, she wasn’t going to die at Conrad’s hands.

Her magic swirled inside her, begging her to release it and finish him off.

But she couldn’t.

“When you took my powers away, my parents asked me not to blame you. After all, you were a little girl who didn’t know what you were doing. Father promised me that, when you were old enough, you would leave. He’d find you a home, away from us. But then you killed my mother, and those promises were broken.”

“I couldn’t . . .”

“Yes, you could! And you did! She took care of you, she protected you, and you killed her! You killed her!”

Conrad threw Darcia to the ground with brutal force. Pain shot through her bones. Still, she didn’t care.

She’d killed someone. Not just any person, but Lisabetta.

Their mother.

She was a killer, a monster.

“When your powers manifested, I saw an opportunity. If you were going to stay, a murderer in our house, you would at least be of use. My father quit his job as a scholar and money soon began to run short. I had no magic that I could use to keep us fed, but I had you,” Conrad said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “And that was more than enough.

“I sought out ghouls, cripples, orphans with no future,” he resumed. “I sought out people with all kinds of powers, desperate to make a place for themselves in the world. I turned them into a spectacle, until every one of them needed me to survive. None of them were worth it. Except for you, the golden girl . . . The Mind Breaker.”

Darcia whimpered. She’d been just another pawn in Conrad’s game.

She’d never been Darcia Voreia, and all that she knew was a lie.

“When the Royal Army arrived in Dawnfall, Harg Koller brought some interesting news to me. The cursed princesses of Ro’i Rājya were missing.” He burst out laughing. “And to find them, he needed my help. Here I thought becoming the Fiend would be of no use.”

Darcia’s face paled at that.

The Fiend, the man that all Laivalon spoke of, that no one knew beyond that name. She’d heard so many stories, so many sleepless tales about him . . . But she’d never imagined that the faceless monster everyone feared would be living under the same roof.

Conrad Voreia was the Fiend.

“ You .”

“Surprised? I never thought I’d played my role so well.”

It didn’t take her long to understand. The apathy, the hatred and the evil his heart held . . . Her stepbrother had always been two things to the world: a fraudster and a dangerous man.

“You’re the monster.”

“One of the many that exist in Laivalon. Don’t look so frightened, Darcie. You and I are not so different after all.”

Darcia refused to believe that. She watched as he stood before her and admired with terror his regal, monstrous bearing. Conrad Voreia had been doomed—or destined—to do horrible things. From the moment she’d been brought to their house and taken everything he held dear, he’d turned into the devil she hated.

But the only one to blame for him falling into darkness was her.

“The soldiers began to ask the most specific questions. They were looking for women with unknown pasts and with wild magic. They were looking for women who got sick easily, so powerful that the name ‘dryad’ didn’t do them justice. From that moment on, I started doing a little research of my own.”

Conrad paced around her, marveling at her wounded body. He relished in the sight of blood, her suffering and her pain. He drew in a sharp breath, as if he could absorb her weakness. Even then, Darcia didn’t dare to speak, fearing that he’d lose his remaining control and beat her to death. If she were going to die, she at least wanted to know the answers to questions she never asked herself before.

“Harg Koller was stupid enough to trust me. After all, my customers throughout the kingdom had told him I was worthy of it. I gave him the keys to the goddesses’ temples to find the princesses, but I left out one detail. If the keys came into contact with any protective magic, it would burn as a warning,” Conrad smiled. “He showed me the burn on his hand and accused me of providing him with broken magical objects. I remained silent. The Chaser seems to have taken a liking to you; he even considered you a friend. I wonder what he will do when he learns the truth about you, but ultimately, I’ll be the one who destroys you.”

“What are you getting at?”

Her stepbrother dropped to one knee on the floor in front of her. Darcia’s attention was momentarily diverted to the dagger in his hand, the one he was eager to bring out to play. Conrad raised it until the tip caressed her forearm, the blade nearly severing her.

“At last, I can make fate play in my favor. Because there’s nothing you can do now, not when I know who you truly are.”

Darcia was about to get inside his mind, but the thought vanished the moment the edge of the dagger rested on her neck.

“You are not Darcia Voreia. You never have been.”

“I’m your stepsister,” she said.

“No, you’re not. And you’re not street trash like I thought you were, either.” He tilted his head a little to whisper in her ear. “You’ve always been one of them, a cursed princess.”

Darcia’s heart skipped a beat. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it? You’re one of the Dark Twins, an heir of the cursed. I don’t know if you’re Amira or Meissa, but you’re clearly a Boreaalinen. And the price on your head is an extremely interesting amount of vramnias.”

“If you believed that for a second, you would have surrendered me to the king a long time ago,” she said with a trembling voice. “You have always been cruel, Conrad. I didn’t take you for a mad man as well.”

“Oh, but you are. And I also found out where your sister is,” he confessed. “She looks exactly like you, did you know that? Except for the hair. I’m sure she colored it so she wouldn’t feel dirty for what she is . . . A whore . The best paid hetaira in all of Bellmare! A luscious whore who has done nothing but give me money for eating every Royal Army soldier’s cock without knowing they want to cut off her head. Oh, come on, laugh! It’s funny.”

But Darcia couldn’t take in everything her stepbrother was saying. The world was moving too fast, leaving her behind.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be on our way to Bellmare soon and I’ll introduce you to her. Maybe I’ll let her eat my cock before handing her to the king.”

Darcia didn’t hold back. She got to her feet as best as she could and punched him in the face with her hands still bound. Conrad stepped aside and spat out traces of blood on the earth. When he raised his head, his bloodthirsty gaze set on her boreal eyes.

“You’re going to regret that.”

She wanted to move, but her body didn’t respond to her commands. Conrad caught her and pushed her body against the log behind her, plunging the dagger into her shoulder.

Darcia screamed as a deep, burning pain seared through her body.

“It’s a dryadalis metal that hurts any daimon,” explained Conrad. “Your wound only reaffirms my theory of who you truly are.”

Her vision blurred as she screamed again.

“But it hurts dryadalis too, you know? Like your dear girlfriend.”

No.

“She bled out too quickly for my liking. Even as I stabbed her, she wouldn’t tell me where you were. She put up all the resistance in the world, all to keep you safe. She could have saved herself, but she chose not to out of loyalty to you. And you . . . The king said nothing about delivering you intact. Perhaps I can gouge out your eyes as a reminder that you will always belong to me, even in death.”

Darcia saw the edge of the dagger come closer to her eyes. She managed to scream one more time before a dark shadow leapt over Conrad and sent him tumbling to the ground.

A black wolf.

Darcia nearly fell.

But someone caught her in time.

“There you are,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear. “I’ve got you, gorgeous.”

“Alasdair?” she asked with tears in her eyes.

“There’s no time.” He pulled a knife from his belt and cut the ropes. “Can you walk?”

“I can try.”

“Let’s go.”

“But the wolf . . .” Darcia began, frightened of the fate that awaited them.

“He’ll find us.”

Darcia was no longer made of steel, but of glass—so fragile that even she didn’t know how to move without breaking. With Alasdair by her side, she ran, carrying the weight of her fear, yet somehow finding the strength to keep going.