Page 75 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

It had been a lonely journey without Cole—lonely, but necessary. With Aya and Will headed toward Tala, and Liam and Dauphine focused on the Midlands, they needed someone to make their case to Milsaio.

Not that Aidon expected much of a case needed to be made. King Sarhash was a reasonable man and a fair ruler. If he knew it was time to make a final stand, Sarhash would do what he could to join them—even if it meant leaving his island kingdom to do so.

But even still…Aidon had found it difficult to distract himself on the journey to Trahir. The skiff was small, with no other passengers save two Caeli that Aidon had paid handsomely to rush him across the Anath.

He’d added an additional fee to guarantee they wouldn’t turn him into the nearest Midlandian guard patrolling the small port. It was incredible how war loosened one’s morals.

He’d tried not to mull over how little he truly knew of such things; tried not to think of how he was a general with more skirmish experience than full-fledged battle.

Not true , his father’s voice filled his head. You have seen worse battles than most in the last few months alone.

That, at least, Aidon could agree with. Eteryium hadn’t faced destruction on this scale in over five hundred years. Perhaps that made him evenly matched with the rest of them.

Barring, of course, Evie.

Typically, he’d use training to silence his mind, letting the vigorous activity run him ragged until all he could think of was catching his breath and steadying his pulse. But the small skiff was hardly fit for it.

So instead, he’d spent his time calling his power forward and cutting it off, over and over and over, an exercise fit more for a Visya child than a fully grown man.

It did not bother him the way it once did.

In fact, it reminded him of the exercises he worked through as a young warrior, learning how to control his sword and train his muscles to mimic the movements he saw in his mind.

Burn me if you must.

Dauphine’s words were a soothing balm he silently repeated to his own fire.

He could no longer afford to fear his own abilities. His fire was a part of him, and so he would train it just as he trained every other muscle he learned to wield strategically.

It was those very exercises he was doing when he first saw the coastline of Rinnia.

Aidon felt something swoop in his chest as he clenched his fingers into a fist, his flames vanishing effortlessly. He gave himself a moment to simply breathe it in—the glimmering sandstone palace on the towering cliffs, the explosion of color that was the city center, the crescent moon beach.

The crash of the waves and the long call of the seagulls and the—

“Stop,” Aidon commanded the Caeli who was currently navigating the skiff. The excess wind died down immediately, the boat slowing with it.

He held his breath as he listened hard, his eyes closing as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing.

It was…

Shouting.

Shouting, and screaming, and beneath those, hardly audible from this distance, the all-too-familiar clang of metal against metal.

Aidon opened his eyes, his pulse ticking up as he realized what this meant.

Josie’s attack had begun.

***

The shouts of conflict were a distant hum in Josie’s ears, covered by her own thundering heartbeat and the crash of waves as they collided with the eastern cliffs. She pursed her lips as she focused intently on steering their small rowboat to that fissure in between the rocks.

“I fucking hate the sea,” Aleissande grumbled from behind her, her knuckles white as she gripped the side of the boat. “It’s a deathtrap.”

Josie grinned over her shoulder. She’d grown up navigating these waters with her brother, whether on a sailboat or a small rowboat that ran the risk of her and Aidon getting slammed against the rocks and torn to pieces.

Failing to miss the gap in the cliffs meant certain death. It was why not many knew of the small private beach that led to the palace. There truly wasn’t much point—no one could access it.

No one, that was, except for Josie and Aidon.

Even still, Josie didn’t breathe easily until their rowboat was firmly beached on the sand.

“Going through the front door with the Royal Army would have been safer,” Aleissande muttered, her lips white as she laid a trembling hand on the lip of the boat to steady her while she stood.

“But far less effective for our plan,” Josie replied as she tossed the oar in the sand. She craned her head back as she took in the winding path that led to the back of the palace grounds. The sun was beginning to sink below the western cliffs, casting large shadows over them.

They were right on time.

Josie tried to keep that in mind as she and Aleissande began their ascent. The sounds of the fighting had faded, lost to the wind howling through the cliffs and the waves crashing around them. It made it difficult to tell what was transpiring at the palace gates.

Or in town.

They’re doing exactly what they should be doing , Josie reminded herself as her legs began to burn with the incline. They’re distracting the Bellare so you can get inside.

She repeated it over and over to herself, a steady cadence she used to time her steps to as she put one foot in front of the other. Her breath was ragged by the time they reached the top of the path—more cliff edge than anything else.

Josie toed a few of the loose rocks, watching as they scattered over the scant space and fell into the sea far below.

“Ready?” she asked Aleissande as she pressed her back firmly into the cliff face.

Aleissande cast a long glance upwards toward the Beyond. “As I’ll ever be,” she muttered.

It was the slowest part of the journey. But Josie let patience and years of sliding sideways across this very path ground her.

She could hear Aleissande’s shaky breath over the wind, and she longed to talk to her, to use her words to soothe her, but there was a lone guard on the tower that settled into this cliff, and Josie did not want to draw his attention.

It seemed not everyone had joined the fighting. Or at least not yet.

They made it to the base of the tower, and Josie used the knife sheathed at her bicep to pry open the window. She ducked her head in, casting a furtive glance around the room.

All clear.

She heaved her body through the opening, Aleissande grunting as she came in behind her.

“Seriously?” Aleissande asked as she pushed herself to standing, her brow furrowing as she took in the wine barrels. “You and Aidon snuck in and out of the palace through the wine cellar ?”

“Ridiculous how it isn’t more closely monitored, isn’t it?” Josie replied as she dusted herself off.

“Yes, that’s what’s ridiculous about this situation,” Aleissande retorted, her voice as dry as the Preuve desert.

Josie ignored her as she resheathed her knife, opting instead for the sword strapped to her back.

She strode across the cellar, her steps soft as she reached the door and peered through the small window.

The hallway was empty.

Josie eased the door open as carefully as possible before she darted into the hall, Aleissande just behind her.

They kept their pace quick as they made their way up the first staircase, then the second.

It was still impossible to hear what was transpiring above while they were this deep in the palace, and the silence had Josie on edge.

It wasn’t until they’d reached the third landing that they came across anyone at all.

Aleissande grabbed Josie and hauled her behind one of the towering columns as an attendant scurried by, her hand muffling the startled gasp that Josie couldn’t prevent falling from her lips.

The woman’s face was scared, her pale skin blanched as she rushed down the hall, throwing furtive glances behind her as she went.

Aleissande’s hand slid down to rest at the base of Josie’s throat as Josie tried to catch her breath.

“The staff,” Josie whispered. “They should be far clear of the fighting.” She had made sure of it, had demanded the Royal Army keep the attack focused on the area near the palace gates so that the palace staff did not get caught in the crosshairs.

“She did not appear harmed,” Aleissande breathed, her thumb pressing lightly against Josie’s hammering pulse, as if she could steady it with her touch. “You’ve done all you can to ensure everyone’s safety, Princess.”

Aleissande released her as she glanced around the column before stepping to Josie’s side. “If you don’t think you’re ready to—”

“I’m more than ready,” Josie cut her off, her fingers tightening on the pommel of her sword.

Aleissande peered at her for a moment longer before jutting her chin toward the hall. They resumed their path through the palace, the shouting finally discernible the closer they got to the throne room. Josie could just make out the clanging of swords as she crept toward the main hall.

It was a gamble to assume that Avis would be barricaded in the throne room. But Josie had spent years placing bets beside Aidon and their friends. She liked her odds.

Sure enough, there was a small cluster of Bellare rebels standing guard at the door. Josie smirked at the notable absence of any of the Royal Guard. She would be sure to reward their loyalty.

Josie rolled her neck, anticipation buzzing in her veins.

She was ready.

She stepped into the hall and cleared her throat. It was comical how the rebels’ eyes widened as they took in her and Aleissande.

“The—” Aleissande’s knife found its mark, cutting off what Josie imagined was a call for aid. The blade lodged in the man’s throat, his words dying on a choked garble as blood spewed from his mouth.