Page 43 of Heirs of the Cursed (A Curse for Two Souls #1)

42

Saevus Forest

“I thought I had ended you.”

Naithea’s eyes shone like two boreal flames capable of destroying evil spells, of illuminating worlds. The blood of her enemies trickled down her face, of those who had been unable to escape from the edge of her sword. Thick and hot, it covered her like a goddess of revenge and death.

Her dark braid was undone and wavy hair clung to her wet face, but neither deprived her of seeing the man who knelt in front of her. He was about to take away the only person who might have answers about her past, about what was to come.

She should have killed him. Naithea should have broken his neck until the sound of his bones snapping reached her ears. Only then would she be certain that Fawke Biceus had perished once and for all. But to see him standing, breathing , was a horrible possibility she didn’t wish to be true.

“You can’t kill what’s already dead, darling,” Fawke replied with a devilish grin.

That answer chilled Naithea’s blood.

The tigers roared in unison. Their furs, soaked with the blood of both wounded and dead soldiers, glowed under the moonlight as they approached the clearing. Fawke’s gaze fell upon them. He didn’t tremble, nor did he plead for his life. Instead, there was defiance in his eyes, as if he was certain he could wipe out any beast.

Naithea averted her gaze to her sister for a short moment, who held herself and clung to the pendant around her neck. She knew that expression all too well, for it was the same one she made when her heart was pounding with fear but her mind struggled not to look weak.

She walked around Fawke with the sword still kissing his throat. Both tigers seemed attentive to the princesses’ movements, digging its claws into the soil. Naithea plunged her hand into his brown hair and tugged at it until she had control over his head.

“Take a good look at your comrades, Fawke.” Naithea forced him to glance at the fallen soldiers. “Death is inevitable. Nothing will save you from it.”

Fawke chuckled. “It will be that very death that will chase you for the rest of time. It will haunt you until the blood of the people you love stains your hands.”

The wild tiger growled in warning.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to make threats.”

“Not threats, Amira Boreaalinen,” he corrected her. “ Promises .”

Naithea’s grip on Fawke’s hair tightened until every inch of his neck was exposed.

He was nothing more than a monster she had to slay in order to stay alive. One more pawn on a much bigger board than she could imagine. And she’d deliver that death, slow and torturous, to ensure her safety and that of her sister.

Her twin’s voice stopped her. “Wait!”

The blade of the sword froze mere inches from the place where his pulse beat as the ground shook beneath her boots. In the distance thundered the heavy steps of horses on the muddy ground, the neighing, and, louder still . . . The voice of an enraged prince promising the destruction of his enemies.

“We must go,” she insisted, her eyes fixed on Naithea. “Death can wait.”

Fawke kept his gaze on the young woman, parting his lips into a grin that masked hidden secrets. The words died on his tongue when Naithea struck the back of his head with the hilt of her sword, knocking him unconscious.

The man who had saved her from Killian helped her sister rise from the ground and held her against him. To comfort her, Naithea realized.

The tigers were the first to move. In honor of Laivalon, the cursed kingdom turned to stone and shadows and the two goddesses they represented, they guided the cursed princesses toward their fate.

They ran together through Saevus Forest, as fast as their wounds would allow them, keeping the sound of horses to their left. They had to outran it, to escape before it was too late.

Naithea wasn’t sure they could get out alive from another fight.

Every part of her body ached, pulled at her. Her skin stung from the pain and the blood rushing through her body froze her every nerve. She’d been so focused on saving herself, on getting revenge on Fawke, that now that she’d relaxed in the absence of danger, it was as if her whole body was shutting down.

Her vision was marred by white dots that made her squint her eyes. Dots that began to cover the grass beneath her feet and everything around her. Naithea paused at the icy caresses of snowflakes falling from the night sky, and just a few steps behind her, so did her sister.

Slowly, the forest turned white.

The princesses’ boreal gazes met, both feeling the icy cold of the snow caress them with a warning. Perhaps the goddesses had been wrong and the snow wasn’t an omen of good fortune, but of impending death.

A death that they would have to face together.