Page 32 of The Cursed Chalice

“Why are you staring? Do I frighten you?” he asks as he leans forward for me to get a closer look.

His eyes…one is blue and the other…white. But with all the scarring, I find him to be…beautiful.

“No. Should I be?” I ask. My eyes never leave his.

He straightens up and exhales. “Yes, you should be.”

I put my hand out. “I am Soraya, Raya for short.”

He looks down at my hand in disgust. Well, that is a first. I drop my hand back to my side.

“Gods above, no, you shouldn’t be afraid,” Hecate says, and she stands by my shoulder. “He is a teddy bear with an ugly face.”

Ares frowns. “I am not ugly.”

Hecate turns to me. “He is ugly.”

I shake my head. “No, I think the scar adds character.”

The room quiets. Oh shit. I fucked up.

“Um, so sorry if I…”

Ares shakes his head. “No offense taken. You can’t stay here. I don’t need a nanny.” With that, he turns and walks away.

“Get them out, Hecate!”

ARIC

I wish she thought I was ugly. It would have made it easier for me to let her go.

“She looks at us like we are rare, like art.”

“She can’t stay, Ares. I already told Hecate to get her out.”

I stop walking and move behind a column. I can see her standing behind Hecate as Nisa comes out of the room. I hear her say her name.

“Soraya,” I whisper. I like the way her name rolls off my tongue. As if she hears my whisper, her head turns in my direction. Instead of hiding, I throw my shoulders back, fold my arms, and walk away.

I move into my office, closing the door behind me.

“She is beautiful,” I mutter.

“That, Aric, we can agree on.”

I walk to the cabinet, and opening it, I take out a decanter of plum wine and a crystal glass. I pour the wine into the crystal, take a sip, and sigh.

“What are we to do?” I ask, pressing the glass to my forehead.

“We’re sending her away.”I look around, watching my shadow sit on the shadow of a stool.

My gaze meets the chalice that is still sitting on my desk.

I have to find a way to free Talia. I close my eyes.

I can hear her humming as she cooks outside our tent. The war was coming to an end. My blade has already tasted the blood of three of King Orinon’s generals. It was only a matter of time until Orinon is found, and he shall die by my hand. Contentment settles in my bones as she slices herbs and puts them into the pot. Imagine the queen of Eyphra on her knees cooking rabbit stew for me and my men. She smiles back at me. I can see her smile but not her face.

I drag my hand through my hair, throwing back all the plum wine. Setting the crystal down, I move toward the chalice. It still feels warm to the touch, signifying that Talia’s soul is still alive and well.