Page 8 of Heirs of the Cursed (A Curse for Two Souls #1)
7
Dawnfall
As evening fell, Darcia immersed herself in her second bath of the day. She’d scrubbed the stables’ scent from her skin, but her exhausted body craved the comforting embrace of warm water as if it could wash away more than just dirt.
The day had been a whirlwind of emotions. She fought the urge to seek out her friends and her girlfriend to make sure they were all right. Still, a silent and meaningful look from her father made her reconsider and seclude herself in her room. Meanwhile, Gion paced back and forth, lugging books to unravel the mystery of the dark magic resurgence in Ro’i Rājya after years of dormancy.
Darcia stirred in the brass tub and hugged her legs, admiring the grainy, cerulean moonlight streaming through the window pane. As much as she wanted to stop thinking about the curse, a myriad of possibilities flashed through her mind every time she closed her eyes.
In search of peace and quiet, Darcia leaned against the tub and plunged into the dark depths of her mind. Mastering her magic had never been easy, but at times like that, she was grateful for her ability to control it. At first, fear had paralyzed her; manipulating illusions, altering memories or beliefs was inherently risky. Any mistake could lead to chaos, both for those it affected and for herself, caught in the complexity of emotions and memories.
In Laivalon, magic could be dangerous.
The dryadalis of Lên Rājya, born of the hekseri —the light magic of the goddess of creation, Kuheia—channeled their essence through abilities that controlled fire, wind, earth, water, and more. On the other hand, the daimonas of Ro’i Rājya, created from the migrior —the dark power of Kazaris, the goddess of destruction—, mastered unique and misunderstood magic. Those gifts, so different from those of their counterparts, plunged them into despair, driving them to the brink of madness.
It was rumored that many of the daimonas had succumbed to the darkness of their power, unable to control the ability that the deities had given them. Even the Two Bloods, born from the union of the two kinds, had received a fate worse than death.
But darkness could not be controlled, only accepted.
Since the beginning of time, it had been about balance: the dryadalis of light magic and the daimonas of dark magic. And that balance was about to be broken forever if the curse were to reach the kingdom and destroy everything.
Downstairs, the sound of a door made Darcia sharpen her hearing without moving a muscle. Conrad had arrived, and by the heaviness of his footsteps, he was drunk. Only a few seconds later, she heard her father walk out of his room.
“We had a most interesting visitor today,” he said by way of greeting.
“Don’t tell me,” Conrad replied.
“Harg Koller, or the Chaser as you may know him,” continued Gion. “He said he was acquainted with you.”
“He’s an old friend.” Conrad’s laconic reply made Darcia attend more earnestly. She remained motionless in the bathtub, preventing the sound of the water from breaking her concentration.
“And what exactly are they looking for?”
That’s it, Dad, straight to the point , Darcia thought to herself.
Conrad didn’t answer immediately. He walked around the parlor until he reached the kitchen, where the sound of recipients being moved reached her ears.
“A week ago I sent a letter to His Majesty, offering my help.”
“Help with what?” Gion inquired.
“With the search of the cursed princesses.”
Darcia’s eyes snapped open. “What?” she mumbled.
“What?” Gion asked the same question. “The cursed princesses?”
“The only ones that exist in our world, father. The heiresses of Ro’i Rājya, Amira and Meissa Boreaalinen.”
Despite the naturalness with which her stepbrother responded, Darcia’s chest tightened with deepening confusion. Carefully, she leaned back against the edges of the tub and pulled herself upright to listen more intently.
“The Dark Twins are in the Fallen Kingdom, Conrad. Locked and petrified for eternity,” Gion said.
“No, they aren’t.”
Darcia’s heart skipped a beat.
“You’ll have to explain yourself so I can understand what you’re saying.”
“The king sent a scout a couple of weeks ago to inspect the ruins of Ro’i Rājya. It seems that the Dark Twins aren’t in their cradles.”
“That’s nonsense.” Darcia heard her father say.
“It’s outrageous, that’s what it is! A perilous danger that threatens our kingdom.”
Darcia closed her eyes, leaving behind the murmur of her own thoughts. She detached herself from the emotions that anchored her to her humanity and unleashed her power. Slipping, she fell into an abyss of darkness, where red threads, frayed and tangled in palpable chaos, soon welcomed her.
“This is ridiculous . . . Who would take the cursed princesses out of Ro’i Rājya?”
Gion’s words no longer sounded firm, for Darcia had sunk in Conrad’s mind. Just as she’d learned for her performances, she glided gracefully to avoid touching the flashing red scarlet threads and thus prevent her stepbrother from detecting her.
Conrad finished his glass of whiskey in one gulp and answered, “I don’t know, but I’ll find out. I received a letter from the king himself, informing me that the princesses were never there.”
“For years, they’ve sent a scout at the beginning of every sun to make sure everything remained intact.”
“Fear, like love, makes men stupid. And all the soldiers that Kirus Allencort sent to the Fallen Kingdom turned out to be cowards. The only thing that led Leonel Ramsdean to these findings was the holly of death covering the princesses’ cradles.”
“And for what reason did they send a scout? It’s autumn, three months away from the last full moon,” Gion replied logically.
An uneasy silence thundered inside her stepbrother’s mind. “King Kirus’ newborn son turned to stone minutes after the queen gave birth to him.”
The seventh heir had died .
And if the curse had reached the royal family, Kirus Allencort would destroy all of Laivalon in order to find the missing princesses and eliminate them for good.
The darkness around her became more engrossing, and Darcia’s breathing quickened. She had to get out of there soon if she didn’t want to get lost inside Conrad’s dark mind. Yet she breathed in and concentrated even harder, ignoring the dull ache pressing against her temples.
She could control it for a little while longer.
So Darcia listened and waited.
“That’s not possible,” Gion stammered.
“And yet it is,” Conrad said a little more irritably. “That’s why the king sent Harg Koller here. He knew he would find me and that I could be of help. If the Chaser has shown it to you, you must know the curse is spreading. The lost princesses must return to their birthplace so we can stop this nonsense and the darkness can claim the price: their magic and their lives.”
“The people of Dawnfall are in danger, then.”
“No one is in danger if they have nothing to hide, Father .”
That was enough for Darcia to snap out of his head and return to reality. Her nails dug into her palms as she reminded herself of the many consequences of staying too long inside someone’s mind, such as the gradual merging of her consciousness with that of the host and fading into uncontrollable darkness.
A tremor of uncertainty made her hesitate slightly, but she stood up all the same to get out of the tub. She had to let the other circus members know, to protect them. While the soldiers might respect Conrad, the order of things was very different for those who had nothing to offer.
Wrapped in the towel, Darcia moved toward the window, her gaze drawn to the endless expanse of the starry night beyond. The city, where innocents lived and slept in silence. She couldn’t let a curse destroy her home, because losing Dawnfall would mean losing everything she’d built, everything the goddesses had given her.
Evrethia, where the only entrance to the Fallen Kingdom stood, was a week’s journey from Dawnfall. If it was true that doom had come to Camdenn, it wouldn’t be long before it swept through the rest of the cities . . .
Darcia closed her eyes and leaned against the window frame.
To die turned to stone is a bitter fate that no one deserves , she thought.
The bathroom door creaked open, and Darcia turned on her bare feet. She only managed to catch a glimpse of brown hair before she was struck in the back of the knees and dragged into the tub.
Her head was yanked underwater, and the burning sensation from lack of air set in.
Darcia fought with all her might, as she’d done since she was a child. She struggled, screamed at the top of her lungs and tried desperately to free herself. But Conrad’s firm hand on the back of her neck wouldn’t relent.
Darcia couldn’t breathe.
She had no air.
She couldn’t . . .
When her stepbrother pulled her head out of the tub, she expelled the water from her lungs with a violent cough, shivering uncontrollably. Conrad grabbed her long, golden hair to force her to look directly at him. As their gazes met, she clung to the towel, trying to cover her body and hide the shame that throbbed in her chest.
“What are you playing at?” Conrad demanded.
“I didn’t do anything.”
He tugged hard on her hair, making Darcia stifle a scream. “You got inside my head,” he hissed. “I told you never to do that in your miserable life!”
“There was nothing really interesting to see either,” Darcia said, still half choking.
When Conrad raised his hand violently, she had three seconds to brace herself before the blow came across her face, leaving a large mark and a cut on her lower lip.
“Remember your place, Darcia.” His hand gripped her throat, his fingers pressing into her skin until the air rushed out of her lungs. “If it weren’t for the money you earn, I’d have killed you long ago. And you can’t even imagine how much I would relish watching the life drain from your eyes.”
Darcia held back the plea that rose in her throat.
When the corners of her vision turned blurry, Conrad released her. She fell to the floor on her knees, where she whimpered from lack of air. At the sight of her stepbrother kneeling in front of her, she tried to recoil, to lean against the wall to protect herself . . . But Darcia barely had the strength to breathe.
“I hope this reminds you of who you are. If you keep trying to play me, I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” Conrad’s hand traveled to her hair to stroke it with a deceitful gentleness. “You know what you have to do.”
“I’m sorry,” Darcia muttered, tears of helplessness soaking her cheeks.
“That’s the way I like it.” Conrad stood up. “This month, you’ll be working double shifts at the circus for your impertinence.”
Darcia didn’t answer.
“You don’t want to know what I’m capable of if you make me lose money.”
She watched him walk out with the stealthiness of a ghost. Darcia had been carried away by reckless curiosity, forgetting his constant warnings.
When she was alone again, she finally managed to stand up. Her hand kept her lips closed together, silencing the sobs that burned her chest so that her father downstairs wouldn’t listen and find out his children’s enmity.
Yet, as she cried, Darcia vowed that one day she would take revenge on her stepbrother. When she was strong enough, she would force him to face the consequences of all the damage he had caused. She swore before the goddesses that Conrad would pay for his actions.
About to head to her bedroom, a glint outside the window caught her attention. There, where a dark shadow loomed in the first line of the woods. A jolt of fear spread through her veins, but as the moonlight revealed two green eyes, catching her in their spell, something soothed within her.
Two eyes that felt no pity, no fear, bathed in mystery.
It was an illusion. As she drew nearer to the window, desperate for a clearer look, the figure melted into the darkness, leaving nothing behind but a cold emptiness.