Page 46 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

Be careful, Enforcer. You may one day find your reliance on your power to be your downfall.

It was rare for Will to hear Galda’s voice in his head. There were so many others that occupied his thoughts—his father’s, Lorna’s, his own inner monologue of self-loathing—that the trainer’s didn’t often fight to make itself heard.

But as he sat in the back of a prisoner wagon, his hands shackled in front of him, Galda’s voice was as clear as if it were the trainer’s shoulder pressed against his and not Liam’s.

She had been haunting him for several hours, her whispered reminders of his failure enough to have his fingers digging into the flesh of his palms until they bled.

His affinity had been of no use to him when Finnias and his fellow Royal Guard threw him, Liam, and Aidon in the back of the wagon.

Not when they’d brought enough soldiers to keep blades on them the entire time, not when there were Visya in the mix.

Even if Will could have brought his own guard to his knees, he could not be sure it wouldn’t have resulted in his friends’ deaths.

He had enough blood on his hands without adding people he cared about to the list.

You are weak. And one day, someone will exploit your weakness, and you’ll deserve whatever consequences follow.

Will slammed his head back against the wall of the cart.

Galda he could deal with. His father, he could not.

“We’ll have our chance when we get to Tala,” Liam murmured from his side. He’d been advising patience since they’d locked the damn door, and Will had had enough.

“By that time, we’ll be two countries away from where we need to be,” Will snapped, his voice hushed in case the guards outside were listening.

Not that it mattered; he knew he didn’t stand a chance of a fair trial once they reached Dunmeaden. Hyacinth would see him hang one way or another, he was sure of it.

Across from him, Aidon stared out a small hole in the wood, his face utterly expressionless.

He hadn’t said much since they’d left Colmur, and it only set Will’s teeth further on edge.

Where was his ire? How was he not seething over Dauphine’s betrayal?

Hells, he would even take Aidon telling him that his plan had been foolish.

Anything would be better than leaving Will to the musings of his own mind and Liam’s ever-steady forbearance.

As if goaded on by his furious thoughts, Aidon’s voice finally cut through the quiet. “It doesn’t make any sense,” he remarked softly.

Will’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Aidon tore his gaze from the hole and blinked once, like it could clear his mind.

“Dauphine’s brother came to the safe house while you two were tending to the Athatis,” he explained.

Will felt a sharp ache at the mention of the wolves.

Tyr and Azul would likely be slaughtered.

That was if they hadn’t already been traded for more coin than Dauphine deserved.

It felt selfish to feel relief that Akeeta had not been with them on this leg of the journey, but it was there nonetheless. He could delude himself into thinking she had survived the mountains for just a bit longer.

“So you’ve told us,” Will finally replied, impatience cutting a sharp edge in his voice and sending his bandaged leg bouncing. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He felt Liam shift against him, his bicep twitching, as if he could sense the fight Will was dying to have and was readying to intervene.

“She said goodbye ,” Aidon snapped in retort.

Silence stretched between them, the sound of the horses’ hooves keeping a steady beat as the prisoner wagon rattled on toward their fate.

“Um,” Liam finally said blankly.

A rough, bitter chuckle escaped Will as he took in the wood-slat roof above them. “I had no idea you were so sentimental, Aidon.”

“Fucking hells,” Aidon swore beneath his breath. “You’re not listening—”

“To your romanticizing of the woman who betrayed us?” Will snarled, leveling him with a glare. “No, I’m not.”

“I’m not romanticizing—”

“You’re far too obvious, Aidon,” Will cut in again, that anger in him stirring, and stirring, and stirring. It raced through his veins, hot and wretched and mean . “The lust was written all over your face.”

Aidon’s hands clenched where they rested in his lap, a muscle rippling across his jaw. “Dauphine cares about nothing more than coin, except her brother,” he pressed, his voice tight with barely controlled contempt. “You know that. You used that very thing as leverage!”

If Aidon sought to reassure him, his words only did the opposite. They were another reminder of Will’s failure, of a bet he had placed only to draw the losing hand.

“She was telling him goodbye,” Aidon insisted. “At first, I thought it was just for an ordinary mission but…I don’t think she was planning on just assembling a team and letting us go on our way.”

Liam leaned forward, his shackles rattling as he braced his elbows on his thighs. “You think she was planning on joining our trip to Kakos?”

Aidon did not balk in the face of the Persi’s skepticism. “Yes,” he said resolutely. “That is exactly what I think.”

Liam shook his head once as he dragged a hand down his face. “Perhaps she thought she wouldn’t survive betraying us,” he offered.

She shouldn’t have survived, Will thought viciously.

He should have killed her as soon as he saw Finnias sitting on that godsdamn couch.

At least, then, he could have done something right.

At least then, he’d know the woman who had cost him his chance to get to Aya had died the death she fucking deserved.

Aidon shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense—”

The tether that kept Will’s anger from exploding snapped. His body jerked forward, his feet planted firmly on the ground as he glared at Aidon. “It makes perfect sense! Sparing her brother years ago was foolish. I should have let him die just as she would have.”

The words tasted as bitter as Dauphine’s horror had that day when he’d sensed it across the fighting ring. Gods, what he wouldn’t give to go back and let the boy die. He wondered what flavor her horror would have taken on then.

Perhaps it would’ve tasted like his grief, earthy with a hint of acidity that begged for a distraction.

Aidon fixed him with a steady stare, his brown eyes wide and far too knowing. “You would have never been able to stand by and let that happen,” he finally said.

You are weak.

You are weak.

You are weak.

“And even if you had,” Aidon continued, “she would not have let Luc die.”

Will hadn’t realized how his breath had shallowed until he was spitting out a bitter retort through clenched teeth. “You spend one evening with her and suddenly you know the intricacies of her mind, do you? You don’t know her, Aidon.”

“Will,” Liam tried, but that heat in Will’s veins demanded an outlet, and he knew exactly how to get one. “Gods,” he scoffed, “No wonder it was so easy for your uncle and Viviane to betray you.”

His words had the immediate desired effect.

Aidon lunged across the space, his shackled hands gripping the front of Will’s vest and yanking him off the bench.

Will crashed to the floor of the wagon, his shoulder slamming hard into the planks.

Aidon barely gave him space to roll onto his back before he was pinning him and delivering his first blow, a sharp hook across the corner of his jaw.

The copper tang of blood had never tasted so sweet.

“ Stop it ,” Liam hissed, glancing furtively at the front of the wagon.

Aidon did no such thing. He threw another punch, this one to the side of Will’s face. Will’s head jerked with it, his vision swimming as the voices in his head finally went quiet.

“You’re pathetic,” Aidon spat, his weight heavy as he leaned forward to glare down at him, his fingers winding tightly around the edges of Will’s vest. He cut a glance to Will’s shackled hands, still limp on his chest.

He hadn’t taken a single swing.

Understanding lit Aidon’s gaze before he gave a bitter shake of his head and slammed Will back into the ground.

“Find a better way to exorcise your demons,” Aidon demanded as he shoved off of him and staggered back onto the bench. “I refuse to aid in your self-destruction.”

Will’s head swam as he pushed himself up and spat out blood onto the wooden floor.

“Hang on a moment,” Liam murmured from his spot on the bench. “Self-destruction’s not a horrible idea.” Will frowned at the Persi, but Liam was too busy turning something over in his mind to notice his offense. “Could you burn the wagon?” he asked Aidon.

Aidon rubbed the back of his neck, doubt written clearly in the furrow of his brow. “Were you planning on us living through this plan of yours, or do we get to be collateral damage?”

Liam’s shackles jangled as he waved a dismissive hand. “I doubt they’ll risk us dying. Hyacinth’s orders are for us to be returned alive. And killing you would start a war with Trahir—one she cannot afford.”

“Your certainty is doing wonders at convincing me,” Aidon retorted dryly.

Liam shrugged. “It’ll create a hells of a diversion. Maybe one big enough to catch them off guard and give us a chance at fighting our way out.”

Will wiped at the blood on his mouth, a sickly feeling stirring in his gut as he took in Liam’s reasoning.

How had he not seen this? Hours he’d spent in this godsforsaken wagon, desperate to come up with a plan to get to Aya, and never once had he thought of using Aidon’s Incend fire to burn their way out.

The answer was right there , that voice that sounded like Galda said. You couldn’t see it because you are desperate.

He was. He did not remember the last time he’d been free from the tight hold Desperation had around his neck. But now, he could hardly think clearly with how fiercely it clung to him.

A hiss of pain escaped Will as he pushed himself off the floor and onto the bench. Aidon watched him warily.

“I’m not going to apologize,” the king stated as he folded his arms across his chest.