Page 49 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

It was deceptively simple to steal a City Guard uniform. Or at least, that’s how it had appeared to Josie when she’d made the request of Natali only to find one folded on her bed in the Maraciana less than a day later.

Seven hells, the Saj of the Maraciana were truly given an absurd amount of leeway in this city. Not that she was complaining. It certainly benefited her.

Josie pulled the collar of the uniform higher around her face as she darted through the evening crowd eager to unwind after a long day in the Old Town. The shift change for the guard was just about to take place, making it the perfect time to slip through the city undetected.

Natali had informed her Avis had been spreading the news of her disappearance.

The Coward Princess , he’d apparently called her. The name hardly held any weight with her. Her people could assume she’d fled for now; the fewer people scanning the streets for her, the better.

Dusk painted the sky in rich purples and orange, and between the soft light and the busy streets, Josie made her way past the bustling restaurants and bars and into the neighboring residential section undetected.

She crossed through a small plaza, the laughter of children running around the small fountain in the center a soothing balm to her nerves.

The parents were too engrossed in conversation to spare her more than a passing glance.

From there it was down a side street to the left, and then up through a row of town houses with open windows and perfectly manicured courtyards. She stepped through the wrought iron gate of the second town house from the end, careful to keep her posture straight and her stride clipped.

She rapped on the door, her chin tucked into her collar.

Nothing.

She knocked again, harder.

A curtain shifted in one of the windows, and a few moments later, Clyde was swinging the door open, his dark brown eyes narrowed in anger.

“I told you,” he snapped, “we have no—”

His words stalled as he registered Josie’s face. “Seven hells,” he breathed, a breeze ruffling the strands of his jet-black hair.

“Inside,” Josie muttered, pushing past him and into the entry hall. She paused on the ornate rug, the accents the same purple as Lucas and Clyde’s merchant house colors. A golden swan statue—their house sigil—sat on the long side table that stretched across the left wall of the entryway.

“Who is it, darling?” Lucas called from the top of the stairs. Josie turned to see him pause halfway down, his grip on the banister tightening, making his knuckles go white against his brown skin. “Josie?”

He thundered down the stairs, and then he was in her arms, his tall, lean figure slamming into her so hard that she let out an oof .

“Thank the gods you’re alive,” Lucas murmured.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Josie smiled into the fabric of his tan linen shirt.

She pulled back to see Clyde watching her warily. “Coming here was foolish,” he gently chided. “The Bellare are having me watched.” But he hugged her to him anyway, the circle of his arms a familiar safe haven.

Gods, she’d missed her friends.

“Hence the disguise,” Josie reasoned as she pulled away and motioned down at her City Guard uniform.

“But in case it doesn’t get the job done, let’s be quick.

” She nodded toward the library down the hall.

Lucas always lamented that he loathed the space because of its lack of windows, but today, it was the perfect hiding spot for such a conversation.

“Have you heard news of your parents?” Clyde asked as she settled onto the leather couch. “We were hoping you were with them.”

Lucas took up a spot next to her, while Clyde sat in an armchair diagonally across from them.

“No,” Josie confessed quietly.

Lucas’s teeth dug into his plush bottom lip, reluctance written in his features as he hedged, “And…Aidon?”

Josie let out a slow breath through her nose. “It’s true,” she stated. “He’s an Incend.”

Clyde scoffed, his ankle crossing over his knee as his thick black brows furrowed in offense. “You think we care?”

Josie whipped her head to find Lucas regarding her similarly, clear affront twisting the corners of his lips. “Gods above, Josie, I meant have you heard from him. Word is he didn’t return with the Visya force.”

Tension melted from Josie’s muscles as she sat back against the couch cushions. She wouldn’t have come if she thought Clyde and Lucas weren’t true friends to Aidon, and yet she couldn’t help the way relief coursed down her spine to find she was right.

“He didn’t,” Josie said as she cleared the thickness from her throat. “Aleissande ordered him to flee during the Battle of Dunmeaden. There’s been no sign of him since.”

She glanced over her shoulder toward the hallway, her voice dipping even though she knew them to be alone in the house. “I have much to tell you, and little time in which to do it. So I need you to listen carefully and not to interrupt.”

Clyde and Lucas exchanged a look, communicating in that sacred way one could only do with someone they loved.

She knew it was rare for them to see her like this—direct and insistent and serious .

So much of their time together over the years had been full of laughter and playfulness, and a joy that now felt like a distant memory, or like something Josie had watched someone else experience.

She was not the same woman they once knew.

She waited until they nodded their assent, and then she recounted it all: the truth behind Dominic’s partnership with Kakos and Aidon’s double bluff, Viviane’s betrayal and what Aya had done to save her.

The horrors she faced with the elite Visya force in Milsaio and Dunmeaden, and her suspicions of where her brother was now.

They interrupted her only once, when she mentioned that Viviane remained alive and hidden at the Maraciana.

“She is lucky she still breathes,” Lucas rumbled, his forehead creasing as he frowned.

“She is,” Josie agreed. “But she is so far from my priority that I don’t have time to even envision her death.”

The heel of Clyde’s boot tapped a quick rhythm against the tiled floor. He pressed two fingers to the center of his chin as he stared at the bookshelf, lost in thought.

“So you do not believe the rumors surrounding the Dark Saint then?” he finally asked slowly.

“No,” Josie insisted. “I know Aya. She would rather die than join Kakos.”

She pushed away the fear that came with such a declaration, pressing back against the voice that told her she had thought she’d known Viviane, too. She did not have time to lose herself to doubts; not anymore.

“One of our soldiers, Cole, has gone to Sitya to find Aidon,” she continued. “He will not have heard what transpired here.”

Clyde let his hand fall to the arm of his chair, his leg stilling as he fixed his gaze on Josie. “I take it you don’t intend to sit idly and wait for his return.”

“I do not.”

Josie leaned forward, her elbows bracing on her thighs as she pivoted so she could see both men clearly.

“The Bellare claim to value the interests of humans, but you both know as well as I do they’re more concerned with power,” she began. “We need Trahir to see that the Bellare are not fit to lead us through the war; that their care is not for the citizens—human or Visya—but for themselves.

“People need to know the truth about what Kakos is capable of. The horrors I saw in Milsaio and Dunmeaden would encourage anyone to do what they can to stop this war. The surviving members of the Visya force will begin to spread the word so that the people know what they will face. Kakos will not leave Trahir unharmed.”

That, she was sure of. The Southern Kingdom was not content to simply take over the continent. They wanted to rule the realm, maybe even the Beyond.

Why else would one become a god?

“Aleissande, when she’s recovered, will start to rally troops,” Josie informed them. “We’re uncertain where the City Guard’s loyalties lie, and the Royal Army…well, Aidon’s allowance of the formation of an elite Visya unit stirred dissent within the force.”

Lucas’s mouth thinned as he considered her. “And what do you need us to do?”

The corners of Josie’s lips twitched. “You know how much Trahirians love their gold.”

Years she had spent as a political pawn for her uncle. Years catering to dignitaries and courting merchants and playing the ever-gracious host.

Who knew all that political posturing would pay off so well?

“You want us to sabotage our trade alliances,” Clyde breathed, his eyes going wide with realization.

“I want the Bellare to sabotage our trade alliances,” Josie corrected.

“Or at least, that’s what I want the people to believe.

I have no doubt they would do it all on their own should we have the luxury of time, but we do not.

But perhaps, if we strike the match, the Bellare will stoke the flames all on their own. ”

She looked to Lucas. “You are an expert calligrapher, are you not?”

Lucas leaned back on the couch, his hands tucking behind his head. “One does not become notorious for their ability to throw parties without learning how to properly letter an invitation.”

“So you could reasonably forge a missive from Avis Lavigne to Queen Hyacinth that says Trahir no longer wishes to participate in trade with Tala?” Josie suggested.

Clyde scrubbed a hand across his mouth, muffling his rough laugh. “Seven hells. That wouldn’t just decimate our economy and the Talan food supply, it would mean…”

“It would mean the Bellare are stopping us from getting the weapons we need from Tala to protect ourselves from Kakos,” Josie finished for him.

“Imagine the pandemonium that might ensue if the Lead Councilor were to discover such a missive. Not only would it show the Bellare are willing to circumnavigate the Merchant Council, a pillar of our society that has existed for centuries, but it would also prove they are unable to protect us against true threats.”

“The Bellare will likely deny it,” Lucas reasoned. Josie lifted a shoulder.

“They might. But their tenants are focused on taking the Conoscenza entirely out of context. If anything, I expect they’ll deny the missive but use the opportunity to argue we should be less reliant on the Original Kingdom, that Visya in Trahir should take up the servitude expected of them as decreed by the gods. ”

“It’ll be pandemonium,” Lucas murmured, a hint of awe woven into his voice.

“Exactly. Enough that when Aleissande and I make our move with the troops, we won’t just secure the throne for Aidon…but we’ll have the people on his side as well.”

At least that was what she hoped. She could not know for sure if Trahir would ever accept a Visya king. But perhaps, after the chaos of the Bellare, they would.

“I know I’m asking a great deal of you both,” Josie said. She scrubbed her palms down the fabric of her pant legs. “The Bellare is already wary of you given your friendship with our family. I would understand if you did not wish to draw further suspicion.”

Clyde blew out an irritated breath, the strands of hair brushing his brow fluttering with the force of it. “Please,” he dismissed. “I would rather give away all of our gold than not stand by you and your family now.”

Lucas hummed in agreement. “Besides,” he said, “I won’t have Clyde receive the fake missive first. It’ll make the rounds through the lower merchants before getting to the Council.” He winked at Josie. “Much more effective. They’re notorious gossips.”

Gratitude warmed Josie’s chest as she took in her friends.

“Thank you,” she murmured. It was not nearly enough to encapsulate what she felt, but they dipped their heads in acceptance all the same. “I should be getting back. If you need me, send word to the Maraciana. I’ll update you as I can.”

She had made it to the front door before Clyde was calling after her.

“Josie…” he started. She turned to see him standing in the hall, the light haloing his tall figure. “Be careful,” he finished.

Josie fixed him with a grim smile.

“You too.”