Page 76 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

Josie didn’t wait for his friends to react.

She charged forward, her sword finding its first kill between the span of her inhale and exhale.

Aleissande flung out both of her hands, and Josie knew by the way the two rebels before her gripped their throats that she was using her Sensainos affinity to mimic the sensation of strangulation.

Josie’s sword found one’s chest, while Aleissande’s found the other’s.

The last remaining rebel hooked an arm around Josie’s neck, and she let her sword clatter to the floor, grabbing her knife instead. The man screamed as she jammed it into his eye, his grip on her loosening enough for her to pivot and snap his neck.

For a moment, Aleissande simply stood there, her lips parted as she blinked at Josie.

“What?”

“You were holding back in our training the other day,” Aleissande accused. Josie rolled her eyes, her nose wrinkling as she fetched her knife from the man’s head.

The battle sounded closer here, and Josie couldn’t tell if it was because it had breached the gates, or if she was simply hearing the echoes of it in the halls. Either way, they did not have much time to spare.

She threw her shoulder against the heavy driftwood door, grunting as it remained locked.

“Move,” Aleissande ordered curtly. Josie stepped aside just as Aleissande planted her boot firmly in the center of the doors. The wood splintered, sending them flying open with the force of her kick.

There, sitting on the golden throne, was Avis Lavigne.

His face flushed red as he registered who, exactly, had come for him, his eyes blowing wide.

“You fucking coward,” Josie spat as she stalked into the room. A guard lunged for her, but she bested him easily, her sword an extension of her arm, of her rage .

She took down another, and another, her steps never faltering, until she was right in front of Avis. She grabbed the front of his tunic and tugged him off the throne.

“You have no right to that chair,” she snarled.

“Neither does your brother,” Avis seethed.

Josie paused, so that Avis could hear the battle raging at the palace gates. Beyond it, she could just make out the noise of the protestors ringing out from Old Town.

“The people of Trahir seem to think otherwise,” Josie breathed. She held his gaze for a long moment, and then she took her blade and thrust it into his gut.

“I hope you rot in the seven hells,” she whispered as the light died in his eyes. Josie released him, his body crumpling the floor with a thud as she turned to find Aleissande holding another Bellare member at knifepoint.

Josie grinned.

“Hello, Ryker Drycari.”

***

It was strange to find the crescent moon beach so empty, especially with the cacophony of noise Aidon could hear coming from the heart of the Old Town.

Even when the temperature dropped below the usual warm, temperate state Rinnians were used to, there was always some sort of crowd scattered across the beach.

Not today.

Aidon’s boots slid across the sand as he took off toward the fighting, his pulse pounding so hard in his throat, he thought it might strangle him.

Was he too late?

He threw himself down the side street, his hand yanking his sword from its sheath as he put on a burst of speed. All the while, the fighting grew louder the further into Old Town he ran.

It almost sounded as if it were coming from the Council building.

Aidon veered right, cutting through a small square. There were people there, their eyes wide and breaths panicked, but they hardly spared him a glance as they rushed away from the commotion.

Aidon cut another right, then a left, then—

“My gods,” he breathed as he skidded to a halt.

The noise was indeed coming from the Council building. Or rather, the street in front of it. Aidon scanned the chaos, his breath uneven as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

It appeared a protest had descended into full on fighting. The chaos raged on either side of him, and Aidon wasn’t sure how anyone could tell who was friend or foe with the way people swarmed the street, their shouts drowned out by the clanging of swords and the screams of the injured.

Aidon’s sword hung limply at his side, utterly useless, as he tried to determine how to help. Because there was the City Guard, and the Bellare, and citizens, and the Royal Army, and who—

A firm grip on his arm had his thoughts screeching to a halt. Aidon reacted instinctively, his elbow jerking out and up to slam into his attacker’s face.

He caught himself just before he broke Clyde’s nose.

“Clyde?!”

His friend dragged him off the street and into a side alley. There was a cut marring his face, but the blood seemed to have mostly dried. “You would show up just as things get exciting,” Clyde panted with a tired smirk. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder.

“What the hells is going on?”

“No time to explain,” Clyde said. “Josie is going after Avis. She’s at the palace. This was supposed to be a diversion, but I think some of the Bellare caught on.”

Aidon glanced at the fighting. “Do you need me here?”

It spoke to years of friendship that Clyde knew exactly what he was truly asking. “Go,” Clyde urged. “We’ve got this handled.” Aidon hesitated, but Clyde shoved him gently backward. “Go.”

Aidon took off without a backwards glance.

He raced through the streets, his hand tight around his sword, dodging through citizens rushing for safety.

No one, it seemed, noticed who exactly was in their midst, and Aidon was grateful for it.

Weeks at sea in dirt-covered clothes and without a razor seemed to be benefiting him.

His muscles ached as he raced up the path toward the palace, his legs protesting after weeks of forced rest. But the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him going, and soon enough, the palace gates were in his sight.

He could make out the Royal Army clearly, their green livery setting them apart from what he assumed were the Bellare rebels.

Clyde had been right—the Bellare had clearly caught on, for they were attacking from both sides, pinning the army between the palace gates and the fields that stretched toward the barracks.

Aidon didn’t hesitate as he threw himself forward, his voice rising above the din. “Fall back!” he commanded the army as he brandished his sword toward the palace. “Fall back!”

He saw the moment the first soldier recognized him, their face going slack, but he didn’t stop to judge their reaction.

“Fall back toward the gates!” he yelled again and again, until the command had taken up with the army, echoes of his words making their way through the disorganized lines of troops until a small gap between the soldiers and the second wave of Bellare formed.

Aidon reached into his well, his grasp on his power sure and true as he extended his hand.

Fire burst from his palm, a great, roaring line of it stretching across the grass. He tugged at his affinity, his gaze focused on that second contingent of rebels as he pulled and pulled.

He did not stop until a ring of fire surrounded them.

“The king has contained the rebels!” one of the Royal Army commanders shouted. “Re-form your lines! Advance toward the palace!”

It was, it seemed, exactly what the Royal Army needed to retake the advantage. They surged forward, toward the palace gates, while Aidon focused on the fire. He kept that ring burning strong, until every last one of the Bellare had dropped their weapons.

Only then did he let it fall, his body sagging with relief as he cut the thread to his affinity.

Like a sword to sinew , Natali had once said. They were right.

The commander of the Royal Army stepped forward, his brow furrowed as he took in Aidon. And then he turned to the rebels, his chin lifting as he gave his troops their next order.

“Arrest these people in the name of his majesty, King Aidon of Trahir.”

***

“Please,” Ryker was begging. “I kept our bargain!”

“Did you?” Josie bit out as she closed the distance between them. “What part of your bargain spoke to aiding a coup?”

Ryker’s eyes were panicked as they darted between her and Aleissande.

“I couldn’t stop the coup,” he exclaimed, his breath going shallow as Aleissande’s knife pressed closer to the skin of his neck. “But I could prepare for it.” He tried to crane his head away from the blade as he met Josie’s gaze.

“I helped your parents escape!”

“You’re lying,” Josie accused. But Aleissande’s eyes were narrowed in careful concentration, and Josie knew she was using her affinity to sense the truth behind Ryker’s words.

“No, he’s not,” Aleissande said slowly. “He’s telling the truth.”

“They’re in the farmlands,” Ryker hurried to explain. “I paid a guard to keep them there until I send for them. It was the only way to keep them safe. Avis would have murdered them.”

Josie’s legs felt weak beneath her, and she couldn’t tell if it was the adrenaline draining from her body or vicious relief or both .

Her parents were safe.

Did they know she was alive?

“Why did you stay loyal to us?” Aleissande pressed, her brow still furrowed.

Ryker’s throat bobbed. “I told you once that I care for the humans in this country. I did not lie. I realized that Avis”—he cut a glance at his fallen comrade—“his motives were not so just.”

“Took you long enough to get there,” a voice drawled from the back of the throne room.

Josie went utterly still, her heart leaping into her throat. Time seemed to slow as she turned, her blade clattering to the floor.

In the broken doorway, clothes filthy and face unshaven and eyes battle-weary, stood Aidon.

***

“Aidon.”

His name was a broken rasp that fell from his sister’s lips. She stared at him for a long moment, and then she was running across the throne room, a wet, joyous laugh bursting from her as she launched herself into his arms.

He staggered backwards, his own laugh fading into a choked sob as he hugged Josie as tightly as he could.

“Seven hells, is it good to see you,” he murmured, his eyes squeezing shut as he let the familiarity of his sister’s embrace wash over him. There was something unique about Josie’s hugs. Perhaps it was simply that they were a comfort he’d had for the majority of his life.

Josie sniffled, her cheeks wet with tears as she pulled back enough to peer up at his face. “I knew you would come back,” she whispered.

Even now, her unyielding faith in him had something warm spreading through him. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve it, but he would spend his lifetime trying to be worthy of such a thing.

“I take it by your presence here that you were well received by your army,” Aleissande said from where she stood, her knife still trained on Ryker. “Or did you sneak through the wine cellar as well?”

Aidon huffed a laugh. Gods, he’d missed her, too.

“I may have endeared myself to our army by helping them secure the palace. The Bellare caught on to whatever plan you set in motion in town,” he elaborated in response to Josie’s confused look.

Alarm had her eyes widening as she stepped out of his hold, and Aidon rushed to continue.

“But Clyde assured me they had it under control.”

Josie’s shoulders sagged in relief. “You saw Clyde?”

“I did. When I came ashore, I went straight toward the fighting in the Old Town. He told me you were here.”

He looked between her and Aleissande. “Some of the soldiers are escorting the rebels to the dungeons, while the rest are heading into town to ensure the matter truly is handled.”

“Excellent,” Aleissande replied. She strolled forward, her fingers tightening in Ryker’s tunic as she dragged him with her. “Once I dispose of him in a cell, I will join them.”

“A cell?” Ryker stammered. Aleissande arched a brow.

“You didn’t think we’d simply let you go free before we verify your story, did you?”

“He’ll be lucky to go free at all,” Josie muttered darkly.

Aleissande pursed her lips, her eyes solemn as they darted between Josie and Aidon. “That is for you two to discuss.”

Surprise pulsed through Aidon at his general’s words. He remembered a time when Aleissande wanted to bar Josie from such discussions. He watched his general carefully as she gave Josie a lingering look. There was something…soft about the way she regarded Josie.

“I’ll be back when the town is secured,” Aleissande assured them. “ No ,” Aleissande added as Josie went to speak, “you cannot come. Both of you need to stay somewhere secure.” She leveled them with a stern look. “I mean it.”

Josie rolled her eyes as the general dragged Ryker away, but the gesture almost looked…fond.

Aidon had the decency to give his sister five whole seconds before he commented on it. “No fucking way,” he smirked. Josie attempted a glare, but the smile fighting to break free on her lips won out.

“We have lots to catch up on,” she said as she looped her arm through his.

“We do,” Aidon agreed. He tried to match her levity, but he couldn’t keep the heaviness from his voice, and it had Josie’s smile fading. “I’m afraid we do not have much time to do so.”

Josie squeezed his arm, even as she grimaced. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”