Page 12 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

“I think you’ll find, General,” Evie continued as she extended her arms by her side, “vengeance is a powerful motivator.” She fixed Dav with a steady stare. “And there is but one saint.”

Light erupted from her, piercing the darkened sky like an arrow.

A deafening bang sounded, and Aya wasn’t sure if it was Evie’s power or thunder or both, but it was answered by screams as dockworkers and soldiers began to panic, all while Dav’s circle of guards stood trapped, gazes forced upward, blood seeping from their eyes.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, and Evie cocked her head back and let her power extend until she was a column of crackling light.

It was a mockery of what Aya had done in the square at her Sanctification. A reminder that Aya’s power was no match for what resided in Evie.

The docks dissolved into pandemonium as Evie let her power loose, soldiers and dockworkers alike running for cover. The saint let the tendrils of her lightning extend, and Aya watched as a dockworker fell with a scream as her power hit him.

And then another.

And another.

The screams intensified with Evie’s power.

Within them, Aya could just make out the panicked cries of a child.

It was the girl in the pink dress, the light illuminating the terror on her face as the prisoners shifted and yanked and jostled against their bindings.

Her mother’s pleas were lost in the noise, but Aya could see the way she tried to grapple for her child to prevent her from getting trampled.

Dav was rooted to the spot, frozen either by shock or terror or force, Aya didn’t know. She didn’t care. Because chaos was reigning, and Evie was still relishing in her show of might, and Aya still could not access her power, and yet…

The rope tore from Andras’s grip as she lunged for Dav.

She raised her hands toward his extended sword, the blade ripping skin and rope as she thrust her hands against it.

Andras’s shout was lost in the pandemonium, but Aya was already moving, her blood-coated hand snatching one of the frozen guard’s sheathed swords as she shouldered her way past them.

She had seconds, if that, before Evie shifted her focus to her. But if she could get far enough away, perhaps she could break the saint’s hold on her power.

Aya raced toward the prisoners, the girl’s sobs piercing through the screams. She stopped before her, her sword glinting in Evie’s light as she slashed through the child’s bindings before turning to her mother.

“Run,” Aya ordered as she cut her free. The lightning ceased, and the mother latched onto her wrist, her eyes wide. “Run!” Aya ordered.

The mother’s gaze darted past her. And then in one quick movement, she snatched Aya’s sword, her other arm locking around Aya’s waist as she spun her against her chest. The cool kiss of metal touched her neck as the mother bared the sword at her throat.

“What are you doing?” Aya gasped, her hands latching onto the mother’s sword arm. But she held the blade firm.

“Take her,” the mother pleaded. Aya followed her gaze to Evie, who stood at General Dav’s side, a small smile on her face. “Take her and let us go free.”

People were still running—still desperate to flee—but the air around Aya felt still and tense.

Evie’s laugh was soft. Dangerous. “Oh Aya,” she murmured. A cry sounded somewhere to Aya’s left. From the corner of her eye, she saw one prisoner drop. And another. And another. “When will you learn?” Evie asked.

Another.

Another.

Another.

“They are not deserving of your mercy.”

The mother stiffened, Aya’s grip on her wrist the only thing keeping the blade from slicing her throat. Aya forced it off of her, turning just in time to see the woman drop to the ground.

Her eyes were wide.

Vacant.

A heart-wrenching wail erupted from beside her. “Mama!”

Aya felt the nudge of Evie’s power as it wrapped around her fully, just as it had in Dunmeaden.

She knew exactly what the saint intended.

“Please,” Aya whispered.

“Finish it.”

Aya looked back at Evie, her image blurring with her tears. “Please,” Aya begged again.

“Finish. It.”

Aya’s hand rose, an invisible force compelling it upward. She trembled as she tried to fight against it, her nails digging into her palm, her mind screaming its resistance, but her fist unfurled anyway. Her power rose, pulled from the depths of her well by Evie’s volition.

“ Please ,” Aya rasped.

Not to Evie, but to her gods.

Please. Please. Please.

It was no use.

Light burst from Aya’s palm, a jagged line that speared across the space until it met its mark. The child’s eyes went wide, her body stilling for one breath. Two. And then she dropped to the ground beside her mother.

Dead.

Distantly, Aya registered the hacking coughs of the soldiers coming back to themselves, brought to the brink of death only to be yanked back by Evie’s hand. They melded with the continued din of those rushing to escape the docks. But it was lost to the roaring in Aya’s ears.

She’d killed her.

She’d killed her.

She’d killed her.

Andras grabbed her roughly, her head jerking as he hauled her back to Evie. Someone had given him shackles, but the cold bite of the metal as he fixed them to her wrists was not enough to shake her from the fog that had descended over her senses.

Evie grabbed her hands, clucking her tongue as she examined the cut the sword had made to Aya’s wrist. She pressed her fingers against it, hard enough that a fresh surge of blood seeped from the wound.

It should have hurt, should have had Aya wincing against it, but she hardly felt anything at all as Evie’s healing light knitted her skin back together.

The saint’s fingers moved to Aya’s palm, trailing over the scar there. Her head cocked in consideration as she took in the marker of all Aya and Will were to one another.

A broken sound fell from Aya’s lips before she could stop it.

A warm pulse of power rushed over her skin, and Aya slammed her eyes shut. She could not bear to watch this. Yet her tears escaped regardless, something deep inside her shattering as Evie removed her scar.

The power receded, and Aya forced herself to take in her palm. It was as smooth as the day her power had ripped from her in the market.

“There,” Evie murmured, caressing the healed skin. “All clean.”

She dropped Aya’s hands and turned to face Dav, straightening her tunic. “I trust you need no further demonstration, General.”

Dav’s sword trembled in his grip. “The king will have your head for killing those prisoners. Those were humans meant to be turned for His Majesty’s army!”

“Your king will be grateful that this is the only retribution I demand for your insolence,” Evie growled. “Now, unless you wish to join them,” she motioned to the dead prisoners, “might I request an escort to your king?”

Evie peered back at Aya, her blue eyes gleaming as her lips quirked into a smile.

“I have a gift for him.”