Page 5 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

He couldn’t stop imagining it: the grief that must have descended on Aya when Tova died. The way she would’ve blamed herself, because he knew, no matter what had unfolded in that room, that Aya would have rather died herself than let harm come to Tova.

“Make your point,” Will growled.

“Perhaps she wasn’t taken, Will. Perhaps she fled.”

The words were soft, but the weight of them reverberated throughout the cave. Even the wolf went completely still, his ears pricked in careful attention.

“You’re a fool if you believe that,” Will finally muttered. “Aya would never abandon us.” He ducked his head, as if he could hide the undercurrent of his words, but it was there all the same for Aidon to see.

Aya wouldn’t abandon me.

“There’s been no trace of her. Not a single soldier we’ve tortured has heard a whisper of her. News would have spread by now, Will.”

“Not if they took her to Kakos by sea,” Will snapped. “Not if they kept it hidden from their own so we couldn’t find her .”

“Taking her to Kakos would be foolish! It would bring entire armies to their doorstep—”

“So you could see why they’d keep her whereabouts hidden!

” Will finished for him, abandoning the map as he pushed to his feet.

Aidon followed, his joints aching as he stood.

Seven hells, he was tired, and it was an exhaustion he hadn’t felt before.

He felt drained, as if the power roiling inside of him wasn’t just content to steal his title—his birthright—but it needed his strength, too.

“You saw the destruction in the entrance hall of the palace. The Diaforaté was dead ,” Aidon reasoned as he crossed his arms. “Who would have been there to take her?”

“There could have been another,” Will insisted.

There could have. Yet something didn’t feel right, something Aidon couldn’t put his finger on. But he knew Will felt it, too. It hung over them, a dark, cutting, intuitive nudge propelling them desperately forward, even though they did not know what awaited them.

“You are blinded by your feelings,” Aidon muttered.

“And you are grasping at hypotheses that will only serve as a distraction.”

Frustration clogged Aidon’s throat, and he shook his head once, as if he could dispel it. “I’m just saying there are other possibilities to consider. It does her no good to get yourself killed by acting rashly.”

“She would not abandon us!”

Will’s voice echoed throughout the cave as he took a single step toward Aidon. Tyr’s body shifted, his hackles rising as he readied himself to intervene, but Will lifted his hand to still him. He shut his eyes and sucked in a long breath.

“Not intentionally,” Aidon agreed softly.

He stayed near the far wall of the cave.

“But it’s possible that whatever happened in that throne room, whatever horrific thing she had to witness, made her run.

Not for good,” he added before Will could interject.

“But in the moment, perhaps it was the only thing she could do.”

He would not blame her if that were the case. If the pressure and the grief had come crashing down on her, an impossible weight to carry. If her only way to survive was to go . He would not blame her at all.

Will tugged a hand through his hair, his fingers clenching in the strands as he shook his head. “She is not a coward.”

It took a moment for the words to register. By the time they had, Will had already turned back toward the fire and started on cleaning the blood from his hands with a scrap of clothing they’d stolen from one of the camps.

“A coward,” Aidon repeated. The word slipped down his spine, cold as ice. And yet it was heat that climbed up his cheeks and raced through his veins, a frown marring his brow as he said, “A coward like me, you mean.”

Will glanced over his shoulder, a single brow raising as he appraised him. “I didn’t realize we were talking about you, Your Majesty.”

“But that’s what you meant, wasn’t it? She’s not a coward, because a coward runs. A coward flees. Just like I did.”

He wasn’t sure why he was surprised. It wasn’t out of character of Will to hit low and hard. For all they’d been through over the last six months—for all they’d learned to tolerate each other—they still were who they were. And Will was an expert at exploiting a weakness.

Will’s sigh was heavy as he turned to face Aidon fully.

“That’s not at all what I meant, but it seems I’ve hit a nerve anyway.

” The corner of his mouth twitched in the ghost of the telltale smirk that had Aidon knowing whatever the next words out of Will’s mouth were, they were going to make Aidon want to hit him.

“If you’re intent on discussing your cowardice, then I’d argue it’s not in fleeing; it’s in your recent refusal to touch your power.”

Aidon’s hand clenched at his side. “I told you in Milsaio. Using my power will kill me.”

“Ignoring it doesn’t seem to be doing you any favors,” Will retorted. He stared at Aidon for a long moment, his head cocked in careful consideration. “How long did you expect me to ignore the blood?”

The fucking bastard. Of course he knew.

Aidon’s jaw ached in a desperate attempt to contain his mounting anger. “Unless you have vials of tonic stored somewhere, I don’t know what you expected me to say.”

“I expected you not to be so damn prideful. You know how affinities work, Aidon. You know it will feed on you if it doesn’t have a release.”

“And releasing it only makes it feed faster,” Aidon spat. “Natali said there was no guarantee that using my power would ensure my survival.”

“And you’re, what, content to prove them right? What is this, some sort of self-flagellation for being born Visya? For something you can’t control?”

“It’s me trying to extend my fucking life!” Aidon shouted. “This power has taken everything from me. My crown. My country. My family . Forgive me if I’m desperate to cling to the last thing I have for as long as I can!”

Will stared at him in the wake of his outburst, his face unreadable. When he spoke next, his voice was calm. Measured. “You’re ensuring your own certain death by ignoring this. And I don’t have time for you to die.”

“You’re a selfish bastard, you know that?”

“I am,” Will replied evenly. “But you’re not. You’ve seen exactly what we’re facing. We need your affinity.”

What Aidon wouldn’t give to land just one blow. Perhaps he would summon his Incend fire and use it to burn the pompous prick.

“So what do you suggest?” He’d meant there to be some bite in his words, but that exhaustion was pressing down on him, bleeding the anger from his voice as weariness settled in.

Will turned away from him, a soft groan escaping from him as he lowered himself to the cave floor.

He leaned against the wall, his boots crossed at the ankle, head resting back against the rock.

“You need to learn how to manage your power. There’s a balance to it.

” His eyes fluttered shut. “Luckily for you, I’ve trained my fair share of Visya. Some even more hopeless than you.”

There was no heat to the comment, only jest. And yet Aidon couldn’t bring himself to match Will’s levity.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” Will concluded.

Aidon remained silent, his own muscles aching as he settled on a stolen mat. He forced his eyes shut, but his mind refused to quiet as he lay there and listened to the fire crackle.

“And if it doesn’t work?” His question was soft. Raw. And yet the fear behind it was enough to send his heart racing.

Will was quiet for long enough that Aidon wondered if perhaps he’d fallen asleep. But when he opened his eyes, he found the Enforcer studying him, his face grave.

“On my oath, I will put a sword in you myself before I let your affinity kill you.” There was a weight to his words, a sincerity that Aidon was unused to hearing in Will’s voice.

Aidon dipped his chin in acceptance.

In thanks.

“Tomorrow, then,” he murmured. He hesitated only a moment before he extended a peace offering of his own. “And then we head east. To the Druswood.”