Page 37 of Heirs of the Cursed (A Curse for Two Souls #1)

36

Bellmare

For one long week, Naithea waited for them to come for her. She remained seated on the bed, contemplating her new room until she became accustomed to the blackness of the night. Holding a stolen sword in one hand and the dagger she hadn’t returned to the prince with the other, she kept her guard up.

The laughter of drunk men shuffling their feet across the cobblestones, happy and free now that the Royal Army had left Bellmare, helped her stay awake for any potential threats. But Naithea knew they weren’t gone. She could feel Fawke’s soul bound to hers still in Pixies’ Forest, awaiting the Commander of Death’s next command. If it weren’t for those deformed men that had found her in the woods, she’d have made good on her promise of killing him.

Naithea stirred and the feather mattress gave way under her weight. She’d grown accustomed to the hardness of the hay of her bed, the one she’d slept on for as long as she could remember with the company of her sisters. Yet she’d been moved to a room with all kinds of luxuries, comfortable and warm . . .

Madame Dimond’s room.

Upon returning from her failed mission, she’d been locked up under the Fiend’s orders.

Wanting to look for her sisters, she’d snuck out of the bedroom, only to be stopped by men in dark uniforms with dozens of weapons hanging from their belts. The same men who now stood outside her door. Naithea was disturbed to see their gaunt faces, as if they’d survived combat after combat and hundreds of swords had cut into their flesh until it became jagged and misshapen. The foul stench coming from the rashes spreading across their skin churned her guts.

Her gaze lingered a little longer on the crystal necklaces that tightened around their throats: menessbane necklaces, a magic that hadn’t been seen—nor heard of—in decades.

The sound of footsteps prompted Naithea towards the door to see who it was. She dropped to her knees, ready to use the hairpins in her hair to undo the lock, just as Regnera had taught her when they were the youngest hetairas in the brothel. Yet, her hope died when she noticed through the small gap that a chain had been set in place.

“Were the chains necessary?” Madame Dimond asked with a snort. “Do you know how many vramnias those doors cost? They are made of the finest oak in all of Laivalon.”

“The Fiend’s orders.”

“If you’re going to destroy my property, I at least deserve to know why.”

The men looked at each other. “Our master is on his way from Dawnfall.”

“That’s months before the scheduled visit. We won’t get the money he wants on such short notice. Much less if you have my best hetaira locked up!”

“You can keep the money, Madame Dimond,” one of the men said. “But the hetaira is coming with us.”

Naithea’s body boiled with warning.

“Your master must be out of his mind if he thinks I’ll allow it.”

“Do you know what the king would do if he found out that you had given refuge to a traitor?”

“And what would the king of Lên Rājya want with a whore from Bellmare?” Madame Dimond asked in confusion.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” the mistress growled.

“The princess the army has been looking for all along has always been right under your nose. And the other, well . . . She attacked our master and escaped. The Chaser and his army are looking for her, and so are many others whose existence you are unaware of.”

The other one.

Her sister.

Meissa .

She didn’t know her, and yet she couldn’t help but be relieved to learn that she’d accomplished what Naithea had been unable to do: escape. She’d even attacked the very man who was traveling to Bellmare to do who knew what with her. Well, Naithea hoped he had a scar on his disgusting face for what he’d done to Jehanne.

And when she found Meissa Boreaalinen, they would do so much more. Together, they would bring the world to their knees and end those who had wronged them.

The creaking of the windows in Madame Dimond’s room caught Naithea’s attention, who was still lying on the floor with her back pressed against the door.

She’d been unable to get up. Not after hearing about her sister, how their lives were in danger and about the imminent doom that would befall Laivalon if they were delivered to Kirus Allencort.

For they could be its salvation or its doom.

Naithea’s fingers trembled around the hilt of the sword as she rose from the floor to face the shadow that moved across the room. When she spotted the figure, she swung her weapon, ready to kill whoever had dared to come after her. Yet the man moved quickly, avoiding the sharp blade descending upon him.

The melodic sound of metal against metal flooded Naithea’s ears, one she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed until now. The man took a step forward and allowed her a glimpse of his face.

“Leonel,” she gasped. “Have you come here to finish what your commander started?”

“No, Thea.”

“I find it hard to believe you, if not impossible.”

The edge of a dagger rested against the soldier’s abdomen. Despite the murderous look on Naithea’s face, he laughed. “Don’t you think if I were here to kill you I’d have made sure you were unarmed and asleep?”

Naithea relaxed at that and dropped the sword, but the soldier caught it before it hit the ground, not to draw unwanted attention. Her arms wrapped around Leonel’s neck, pulling him into an embrace. Tears stung her eyes as his familiar arms wrapped around her body, and all her worries instantly vanished.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered against his ear.

“No, I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing either. You’re my friend, Thea. I needed to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?” she asked as she turned away.

“Ward’s after you.”

“I know.”

Leonel raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“I was there when he made the announcement.”

“Naithea . . .”

Naithea didn’t want to hear it. If she diverted her attention from what was essential to heal her heart, then her emotions would betray her and she’d never be able to stop crying.

“Don’t,” she stopped him, the taste of the lie that followed tasting bitter against her tongue. “That doesn’t matter anymore. What’s his plan?”

“He’s been waiting for you to show up at the tavern to capture you. He thinks you’ll lead him to your sister.”

“I don’t know her,” Naithea admitted. “I didn’t know about my past until a week ago. I couldn’t lead him even if I wanted to.”

“So, you weren’t using us?” he asked in confusion.

“Of course not.”

Leonel squeezed her hand, the one that had surrounded his, their fingers intertwined. He looked at her with worried eyes.

“You must leave.”

“Leo, I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” he insisted, wanting to save her from a fate that was written in the stars. “Leave Bellmare, hide. I’ll find your sister and bring her to you.”

Naithea shook her head. “I must do this. I can’t run away. Not without hundreds of people getting hurt,” she explained. “They don’t deserve to die because of me.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“There’s only one thing I need from you.”

“Whatever you ask of me, Thea, I will do.”

Her heart fluttered with hope at Leonel’s words. For the soldier had had to decide where his loyalty lay and had chosen the cursed heiress of a kingdom reduced to rubble with its people on the verge of death.

“I need a ship,” she said. “Immediately.”

The soldier gazed at her with his blue eyes narrowed in curiosity. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get my sisters to safety.”