Page 43 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

Dav bit back his own grin. “It was believed he had aided us in kidnapping the Second Saint. But after Sitya…” The general trailed off as he looked to where Aya stood frozen. “Well, with that display of power, the realm has found it difficult to argue the saint’s darkness.”

Aya frowned, her heart kicking out of its sluggish rhythm and racing ahead of her mind without reason.

What had she done in Sitya that would make the realm believe her to be—

Her thoughts were cut short as her gaze met Evie’s.

The lightning.

It had not been a mockery of Aya’s display of power in the Relija. It had been intentional . Evie had wielded her power like that on purpose, had marked Aya as the threat, and the realm…

The realm believed her.

Aya’s heart pounded a furious rhythm as she took in Evie’s smirk.

The realm didn’t know Evie existed. She had used Aya to hide herself, to keep herself safe while making Aya a scapegoat.

“Either way,” Dav continued, “I suppose the punishment will be the same for the Enforcer.”

From the corner of her eye, Aya saw Lorna shift, but she could not tear herself out of her own spiral of panic.

Will didn’t know Evie existed.

Yet he had been in the Midlands. He had been coming for her, even though he didn’t know what he truly faced, even though he’d likely heard the rumors of what Aya supposedly was, and—

He isn’t coming.

The realization slammed into her harder than any blow she’d weathered in training or battle.

He had been captured trying to get to her, and now…

He isn’t coming.

Her fingers ached with her vise grip she kept around her chain.

Control. Control. Con—

“Perhaps he’ll burn just like your father!”

The exclamation yanked Aya from the trappings of her mind, thrusting her into the present as she found one of the prisoners glaring at her. It took a moment for his words to register. But when they did…

“What did you just say?” Aya rasped, her voice hardly more than a broken whisper in the wake of his shout. But he heard her all the same, his glare sharpening into an ugly sneer as he spat in her direction.

“You killed my sister. She believed in you, and you murdered her like livestock in Sitya—”

“What did you say ?” Aya repeated, her voice trembling as she took a step toward the man.

Surely he did not mean Pa. Surely—

Her guard caught her arm, but the king lifted a hand to stay him, his brows raised in curiosity. He glanced at Evie, who was staring at Aya, her head cocked in contemplation.

Aya felt the brush of power skim against her, sensing her emotions. The iron would not hide them from her. And gods, that touch of Evie’s power was so reminiscent of Will’s affinity that Aya’s knees nearly buckled.

“Undo her shackles,” Evie instructed the guard. “Let her approach him.”

The guard at Aya’s shoulder tensed, and he looked to Gregor for confirmation.

“If she makes a move against us, I will kill her before she can summon a wisp of power,” Evie reasoned to them both.

Gregor considered a moment longer before acquiescing with a dip of his chin.

Lorna stared at Aya as the guards undid her irons, her mouth pulling into a troubled frown, but Aya was too focused on the prisoner, and the gleam in his eyes as he watched her eagerly.

Aya should have felt some relief as her wrists were freed. But all she felt was rage.

She closed the distance between her and the prisoner. There was blood on the pale skin of his cheek, mostly dried, but still wet around the wound near his temple. The iron scent drifted between them as she stopped just before him.

He spat again, this time right at her feet.

“You deserve to burn in the hells,” he hissed.

It did not matter that she had been shackled, that she was just as much a prisoner as he was. She doubted he’d even noticed beneath his own ire. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.

Aya knew what it was to be blinded by anger. To see nothing but red in her vision, feel nothing but the burn of vengeance in her veins.

“What happened to my father?”

The man’s grin was feral as he wrestled against his chains, as if he might break free and tear her apart himself.

“They say he was burned to a crisp,” he answered. “They couldn’t control the mob, not when they’d heard what you’d done. They hung him from a post in the Relija for all to see. A symbol of retribution for your treason.”

Aya’s stomach churned, but the man continued, a maniacal glint in his eye as his rage devoured his sense. “They know what you are, now. Your people. They know—”

Aya’s hand snapped forward, her fingers gripping the man’s throat. He coughed, blood spraying her face, but his smirk only grew, grew like that thing in Aya, roiling and pressing and burning .

She had given her life to protect them. Had spent every year in this godsforsaken realm trying to be good , to use the power her gods had given her for something worthy .

And for what?

What has abiding by your gods ever done for you?

“They say your lover will get a trial, but maybe he’ll burn, too,” the man gasped.

“They say your father was powerless to the flames—” His words cut off in a wheeze as Aya squeezed, her fingernails digging into his flesh.

He scrambled for her wrist, and she shouldn’t have been able to keep her hold him, not with the way she was wasting away, but she did.

“Powerless?” she asked, as that thing rose, and rose, and rose.

His face was turning purple, his breaths coming in shallow pants. Aya slid her other hand down his chest, the movement smooth like a lover’s caress. Her palm halted right over his heart, its thud rapid against her skin, which felt stretched tight to bursting.

Aya leaned in closer. She could smell the blood on his breath.

“Let me show you powerless,” she whispered.

Her power burst forward like a spear, directly into the man’s chest. It wrapped around that well inside him, an almighty hand he could not fight, not with those irons on his wrist keeping his affinity at bay.

Aya held the man’s gaze.

And in one swift move, she ripped every last drop of his power from him.