Page 40 of Heirs of the Cursed (A Curse for Two Souls #1)

39

Saevus Forest

Though they’d planned to reach Bellmare in a week and a half, they didn’t resume their journey until the soldiers and Conrad’s dogs were far away.

For the next three days, Darcia prepared another ointment that Caeli once taught her with flowers and plants from the forest, helping him exercise his torso to improve his mobility. Eventually, the wound became a horrible scar and Alasdair felt strong enough to keep moving.

The wolves, along with Lykeios, hunted for food, bringing back leftover deer or rabbit, which Darcia and Alasdair ate raw, unable to risk lighting bonfires that could reveal their position. Once the storm subsided, the pack watched them depart, remaining behind.

Saevus Forest grew denser with every step they took, and the farther she got from Dawnfall, a strange feeling of freedom washed over her. A feeling she hated, and yet she was strangely relieved by, for her home did nothing but remind her of what she had lost . . .

Darcia looked up at the night sky, her lips falling into a grimace as she noticed that the stars had disappeared. During the last few days, the cold had been frigid, almost unbearable, and even the trunks of the trees had frozen due to the low temperatures. She kept walking, raising her arms close to her chest to keep warm.

“They say that on the last night of the year, the stars disappear from this plane and shine brightest in the Fallen Kingdom,” Alasdair said.

In Ro’i Rājya.

The kingdom to which she belonged.

Her real home.

“And yet, we are still days away from it,” she said uninterested, cutting the lower branches of a bush to clear the path.

“We are. The Feast of Lights and Shadows announces the beginning of a new year, a new fate. And on the night of the Dark Twins’ birth, the goddesses doomed everyone with a curse of shadows and stone,” Alasdair explained, his attention fixed on her.

Darcia stopped dead in her tracks with a blank stare. “So tomorrow is my twenty-second birthday.”

Alasdair nodded.

She’d always believed that her birthday was in the ninth month of the year, around autumn, the characteristic season that filled the streets of the city in which she’d grown up with brightness. Her name, her lineage, her birthday . . . There were so many lies she didn’t want to face.

“When is yours?” Darcia asked him. She resumed her walk as Lykeios approached, offering her the comfort she needed.

Alasdair pushed aside a few branches and bushes. “If I told you, you’d laugh.”

“I promise not to.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said. Darcia urged him with her eyes. “The Night of the Holy Dead.”

She couldn’t help herself and let out a low chuckle.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh.”

“This has got to be a silly joke! The Night of the Dead, really?”

“What? Something good had to come out of a night where people dance in the name of lost souls and sad memories.”

“And you’re that good thing?” She fought the smile that tugged at her lips.

“Don’t you agree?”

“May the goddesses have mercy on me,” Darcia scoffed. Alasdair tapped her gently on the shoulder and she finally smiled. They walked a little longer in silence, until she added, “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday.”

“It was the night we met,” he admitted as they looked into each other’s eyes. “Though, at the time, all you wanted to do was slit my throat.”

“What makes you think that’s not what I want now?”

Alasdair spun with elegance, his imposing figure filling the space between him and Darcia until she could do nothing but look up to meet his eyes. The dangerous closeness made her hold her breath.

“Do you want to kill me, gorgeous?” he asked with a feline grin.

Darcia raised the dagger she held in her hand, her eyes locked in his. “Don’t tempt me.”

Taking a step back, she led the rest of the way as Alasdair told her amusing stories of his past to make her feel better. For a brief moment, the weight on her shoulders lifted. There was no pain, no guilt, no remorse . . . Darcia pushed all her fears and intrusive thoughts to the back of her mind, wanting to erase those feelings that tried to push her down.

Distant lights rose over the forest, snapping her attention away from the thief and onto the path ahead. Darcia sucked in air and a soft gasp rose in her throat as the scent of salty water washed over her, mingling with the wind.

Bellmare, the City of the Sea.

Darcia was intoxicated with conflicting emotions. She’d done it. She’d reached her missing sister’s home and was perhaps minutes away from meeting her. For the entire trip, all she’d done was think about her to ignore her own loss and grief.

“Well.” Alasdair set the things down next to Lykeios, who sat obediently. “I’ll see you later.”

“What?” Darcia grabbed his wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get your sister?” he said with obviousness.

“Alone?” she asked in annoyance. Darcia crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going to stand here and do nothing. Not to mention that you were badly injured a few days ago!”

Alasdair looked at her threateningly. “Yes, you are. You’re one of the most wanted people in all of Laivalon. What part of accompanying me to Bellmare do you think is wise, considering it’ll be crawling with soldiers ready to rip your head off?” At that, Darcia hesitated. “Exactly, none.”

“You don’t even know where to find her.”

“According to your stepbrother, she’s a hetaira. Here, in Bellmare, there’s only one brothel that is well known: Madame Dimond’s,” he revealed. As he noticed Darcia staring at him in disbelief, Alasdair added, “Don’t ask how I know that.”

She didn’t.

Instead, she asked, “Don’t you think it will be traumatic enough for her to learn the whole truth without having the Midnight Thief be the one to tell her?”

“Gorgeous, don’t argue with me. You want your sister and I want to keep my head where it is.” He took a step toward her. “And nothing assures us that you’ll make it out of Bellmare alive.”

Darcia looked at the animal next to her. “I have a wolf.”

Lykeios tilted his head before lying on the cold, hard ground. Like his traveling companion, the wolf didn’t seem to agree with her. Alasdair grinned before fastening the cloth back over his face.

“I promise I’ll bring your sister back safe and sound,” he vowed, an unrelenting assurance shining in his eyes. “And then, we’ll decide our next step.”

“That’s not the only thing I’m worried about,” she muttered.

Alasdair cocked his head slightly. “Are you admitting that you care about me, gorgeous?”

“You can leave now,” Darcia said, sitting above the bag. “And I expect you to keep your word if you value your balls.”

“I think that’s the threat I’ve feared most in my entire life,” he said, laughing.

“Very funny.”

He blew her a kiss in the air before disappearing among the shadow’s of the night. He moved gracefully through the trees, swift and undetectable, until Darcia could no longer see him.

A leaden weight settled in her chest and churned her stomach. She could wait, she was good at it. She’d stood still her entire life, waiting for freedom . . . Waiting one more time should be easy enough.

So she did it.

Patiently, Darcia waited for his return.

Darcia woke, sore, beneath the thick mist that descended on the forest like a blanket of bad omens and hidden secrets. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but Lykeios had allowed her to rest against his body while he kept watch, his eyes fixed on Bellmare and his claws digging into the ground.

She stroked Lykeios before crouching down next to the bushes.

Her attention returned to the nearby city. There was something extremely strange apart from the silence. There were no voices, no celebrations; nothing that indicated it was the last night of the year. And all Laivalon was celebrating, so why wasn’t Bellmare?

Darcia’s hands began to tremble. Her power was awakening again.

She closed her eyes, immersing herself in the darkness that unfolded in front of her. Aware of the shadows that loomed like ethereal tentacles, Darcia struggled to calm herself as they enveloped her in a silent embrace and melted into her essence.

Darcia brought a hand to her chest, feeling the borealis gemstone between her collarbones glow uncontrollably. Her fingertips burned at the touch, urging her to move.

To find her.

Her sister, her twin .

A shriek of terror echoed through the forest and horses neighed over the fearful sound of armor clashing against their mounts. Darcia nearly toppled over as she stood up. Someone was running rampant. She could feel rage, hatred, sadness . . . Emotions that didn’t belong to her.

And danger looming close by.

“Stay here,” she ordered Lykeios, who looked at her expectantly. “I’ll be back.”

The wolf growled in disapproval, yet she ignored him.

Without a second thought, Darcia broke into a run and allowed her magic and her heart to guide her forward.