Page 10 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

If Will never saw the inside of a cave again, it would be too soon.

He should be grateful, he supposed, that they’d even managed to find shelter. The thick tree cover of the Druswood managed to slow the rain, but between the unseasonable cold and the creatures prowling the forest floor, the tucked-away space should have been a welcome reprieve.

He couldn’t bring himself to find it as such.

They’d just barely managed to make it out of Maumart. They’d been unable to return to their horses, and with the possibility of more Royal Guard milling about, it had been too risky to steal another three from the town.

They’d escaped into the Druswood on foot, and now, here they were, tucked away in a cramped cave, with none of their provisions. The maps hidden in the saddlebags…the documents Will had stolen from Kakos camps and clung to in a desperate hope that they would hold something about how to find Aya…

All of it, gone.

“Why the hells is the Royal Guard in Maumart?” he demanded as he whirled to face Liam, his hand shoving his wet hair out of his eyes.

Aidon, despite Will’s protests and his obvious dizziness from using his power in the fight, had managed to get a small fire going. The light cast deep shadows across Liam’s dark brown skin and worsened the haunted look in his eyes.

“Hyacinth named herself queen,” Liam murmured. He dabbed a worn shirt against his tight curls, his other hand scratching mindlessly at the thick, marbled brown and gray fur atop his bonded’s head. “One of her first acts was to put a bounty on your head.”

“Shit,” Aidon swore as he sat back on his heels. Blood stained the skin beneath his nose, and he scrubbed roughly at the dried flecks.

“On what grounds?” Will spat. But he already knew—perhaps as soon as that Talan guard had made eye contact with him.

“Treason. Regicide. And…kidnapping.”

Aidon frowned. “I came willingly.”

“Not you,” Liam corrected.

“Hyacinth believes he took Aya?”

“I don’t know what Hyacinth truly believes, besides the fact that the war that is unfolding is a threat to her gods.

But Dunmeaden is in shambles, and the people are restless,” Liam murmured.

“Whether the story of you partnering with Kakos originated with Hyacinth or someone else…I’m not sure.

But it doesn’t particularly matter. She’s not doing anything to stop it. ”

And now, with the documents from Kakos in their abandoned saddle bags, he would only be adding fuel to the accusations against him.

Lovely.

“She’s arrested the remaining members of the Dyminara,” Liam continued. “Each one is to stand trial for crimes against their queen and kingdom.”

So that explained why the Royal Guard had wandered so far from their typical jurisdiction. Substantial threats had always been left to the Dyminara—the most elite of the Visya warriors and scholars and spies.

Now, it seemed, they were no more.

Aidon pushed unsteadily to his feet. “Surely the testimony of the Dyminara who escaped the fire prove there were the innocents in the force?” he pressed.

Will wanted to believe as much. But there was a heaviness to Liam that went beyond grief, and Will did not need his affinity to sense it.

“Hyacinth was Gianna’s spiritual advisor.

I don’t know that the High Priestess will believe the worst in her disciple so easily,” Will reasoned.

To Liam, he said, “That’s why you fled, isn’t it? ”

Liam dipped his chin in a grim concession.

“I have no reason to believe the Dyminara will receive a fair trial. Especially because we had no knowledge that over half of our force had turned until they were barring the doors of the Quarter and setting it aflame. If we had, I could’ve—” Liam cut himself off with a shake of his head.

“Do you know how Gianna managed to do it?” Will asked.

“No,” Liam confessed bitterly. “I don’t even know how many of those who were turned were under her Diaforaté’s influence.”

Will felt Liam’s pang of grief brush against his weary shield. He knew where it stemmed from easily enough. Liam did not know if Lena’s actions were of her own agency or not. And now, he never would.

“The Diaforaté would have had to be in the battle with them to continue controlling them, would he not?” Aidon pressed. “Surely his power only extends so far.”

“Not necessarily,” Will replied. “Tova had no memory of our conversation in the dungeons prior to her questioning. Clearly, I’m not skilled in gambling, but I’d be willing to bet a healthy sum it was the Diaforaté who altered her memory.”

He was nearly certain of it. And yet…

“Either way, it’s impossible to know for sure. It would depend on the persuasion—the compulsion—and how he went about it.”

Did he play on their loyalty? Did he steadily chip away at their resolve for weeks without anyone knowing? Did he rip their agency from them in one go?

Will dragged his hand through his hair again. His joints were stiff with the cold, his fighting leathers soaked through. Gods, what he wouldn’t give for a warm bath.

Pain radiated through his skull as he grabbed his strands and tugged. It sharpened his focus, kept him present in the room when his mind wanted to spiral off into a thousand different directions.

Another fucking obstacle placed in his way, another enemy closing in that threatened to keep him from Aya. He refused to bow to it.

He let his hand fall, his thumb skimming the raised skin on the inside of his palm.

No matter how far the fall.

“There are rumors about you as well,” Liam remarked with a nod of his head to Aidon.

“I love it when people talk about how handsome I am,” Aidon drawled as he scrubbed the last of the blood from his face.

Will didn’t buy his deflection for a second. He knew what it was to hide one’s scars from the world, lest they get ripped open once more.

A ghost of a smirk flitted across Liam’s face.

“If only they were so kind.” Any hint of humor faded quickly into a grimace.

“It would not surprise me if rumors of your fire-wielding spread all the way to Trahir.” Liam fixed him with a long, pointed look.

“Though it looks as though that’s not the full story.

You missed a spot.” Liam scratched just below his own nose.

Aidon released a heavy sigh as he rubbed at the blood. “Unfortunately, news of my affinity spreading is the least surprising thing we’ve learned tonight. As for the rest…” He trailed off as he met Will’s gaze. “It’s hardly the most important of tales to share.”

He prompted Will with a tilt of his chin toward Liam.

Will sucked in a long breath, but it did nothing to lessen the weight that seemed to permanently press in on his chest.

“Have you heard about the most recent attack in Sitya?” Will asked.

The Persi nodded. “The news had reached Dunmeaden just before I came after you.”

“Speaking of, how did you find us?” Aidon asked.

“I figured you’d been making your way south following Kakos’s retreat, and the fastest way to catch up was by sea. So I stole a skiff and sailed to Cullway. Persuaded a dockworker there who valued his life over his loyalty to forget he’d seen us. Azul picked up your trail three days ago.”

Azul didn’t seem particularly bothered to be dripping wet and in hiding. He merely bumped his head against Liam’s hand at the sound of his name and let out an irritated huff at the lack of scratching from his bonded.

Aidon leaned against the far wall, his arms folding across his chest as he pursed his lips in contemplation. Will wondered if he was mulling over the same thing:

If Azul had found them this easily, it would only be a matter of time until Hyacinth tracked them down, too. Especially if she managed to have a Dyminara command their bonded after them.

Gods, he hoped Akeeta had not been caught. Or Tyr.

“The gamblers we spoke to tonight mentioned the attack happened nearly two weeks ago,” Aidon finally said slowly. “They think…” he shot Will a conciliatory look. “Well, they think Aya is responsible.”

A muscle in Liam’s jaw tightened. “Yes. I heard the same.”

“If she was somehow forced to attack the city,” Aidon continued, “it’s unlikely she’s still there now.”

“If she ever was,” Will muttered. “There’s no telling if it was truly her.”

Liam’s brow furrowed. “Do you think it’s another Diaforaté masquerading as Aya?”

He had no idea. The Diaforaté he’d battled in Milsaio had lost herself to her power.

He wasn’t sure the limits one could reach without their power devouring them, and by the way the men had spoken of it, this sort of display—spears of lightning shot into the sky—had only been seen once before: in Dunmeaden, during the Sanctification.

“It would be the perfect way to spur further pandemonium,” Aidon mused. “Kidnap the saint, then make her out to be a villain. Have her own people turn against her.”

Another contemplative silence stretched between the three of them, but Will was too focused on the way Liam’s jaw stayed clenched, his grief sharpening into something that Will could no longer ignore as it battered against his worn shield.

“What is it, Liam?” he pressed.

“There can’t seriously be more,” Aidon moaned. But even in the low light of the fire, Will could see the pain in Liam’s eyes as he rolled his shoulders back. He hesitated for a moment before he said,

“Callias Veliri is dead.”

Liam’s revelation settled heavily in the middle of the cave, the crackling from the fire muffled beneath the weight of it. From the corner of his eye, Will saw Aidon frown, his gaze darting between him and Liam.

“Who?”

Will swallowed against the lump that had risen in his throat. “Aya’s father,” he forced out.

She had already been through enough. Godsdammit, she had already been through enough . And now…

He pinched the space between his eyes, his jaw locking as he bit back the wave of anger and despair that crested within him.

“He woke up about two weeks ago,” Liam explained quietly. “Suja was there when it happened. He was supposed to stay for further healing, but the next week, he was gone.”

“Why would he leave the infirmary?” Aidon wondered.

“He wouldn’t,” Will replied darkly.

Liam nodded once, his hand reaching for Azul’s fur once more. “There were guards sanctioned by Hyacinth that were stationed outside his door. They were found unconscious.”

It took Will another breath to clock how the Persi was uncharacteristically in motion.

A shift of his stance here.

A twitch of his hand there.

All telltale signs that he had yet to share the worst.

“The day after he was taken, his burnt corpse was being hung from a light post in the Relija by a mob in retribution for the attack in Sitya.” Liam rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, his face twisting into an expression of disgust as he said,

“They’re calling Aya the Dark Saint.”