Page 15 of The Immortal’s Curse (Bound to the Immortals #2)

DARCIE

Moonlight spills over the stone amphitheater, casting silver light that forms elongated shadows dancing across the curved seats. The structure resembles those from ancient times, when humans worshipped twelve Greek gods and watched plays depicting their divine stories.

This night, the stone seats are occupied by men and women wearing a variety of clothing styles from all cultures.

Bright, geometric patterns adorn men’s agbadas, contrasting with tartan-patterned kilts.

Equally vibrant saris drape over women’s slender shoulders, while others wear more subdued wrap skirts, dresses, and sarafans.

I take it all in, heart fluttering in my chest. This has to be a dream. My imagination, once again, conjured a vivid hallucination I didn’t ask for. And yet… it all feels so real .

The sound of sandals scraping stone. The scent of eucalyptus from the woman seated two rows down. The weight of the silence that presses against my ribs.

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, strained, dry.

My subconscious is putting on one hell of a show.

I’ve superimposed the faces of the lesser Immortals I glimpsed at the ball onto the chattering crowd, but it’s the broad-shouldered man standing at the center of the stage, sandwiched between his brothers, that takes my breath away.

The memory of Des’s hands on me makes my skin prickle. How his hot palms pressed against my back. How his fingers dug into my hips. The way his desire felt as I rocked against him when his tongue danced with mine.

Why couldn’t tonight’s dream be like that? Rather than some sort of meeting. Or maybe it’s a performance? Maybe Lome is going to break out into a song and dance.

I snort.

My amusement swiftly fades when Thane lifts an arm in the air. His black tunic sleeve rolls down to his elbow. The audience falls silent.

Then, his booming voice rolls across the stadium like thunder. “Bring out the accused.”

A chill writhes down my spine. Adir . It has to be.

I straighten and press my fingers against the wall at my back, but the figure dragged from behind the skene isn't the Immortal of War.

A woman stumbles, held between Julisanna and Eros. Her red dress is shredded and filthy, and her hair is a wild nest of tangles, concealing her face.

Confusion gnaws at the edges of my fear.

The woman lifts her chin. Her bruised, dirt-smeared face catches the light, and my heart stops.

Evetta.

My legs wobble. I lean my body against the wall to stay upright.

She can’t hurt you, I tell myself. This isn’t real.

I repeat the mantra as the vicious Immortal who attacked me in a grocery store bathroom is led to stand in front of Thane, Des, and Lome .

Eros shoves Evetta’s back, forcing her to her knees with her back to the crowd.

Murmurs ripple over the stone stadium, but it stops dead with one fierce look from Thane.

Hair lifts on the back of my neck. I’ve only glimpsed this version of Thane a time or two. This is the leader of the Council, and this Thane is… unsettling.

Satisfied with the audience’s silence, Thane turns his stern gaze back to the Original Immortal at his feet and waves his hand. Slowly, I inch my way closer to the stage. No one looks in my direction.

Of course, they don’t. This is a dream.

Julisanna and Eros step back, wearing masks of indifference, and move to stand at the side of the stage where the rest of the Original Nine have appeared.

Faine holds her head high, but sadness shadows her delicate features as she gazes at Evetta’s hunched shoulders. Charmian, in contrast, watches with an unreadable expression. Their loose, flowing dresses billow in the breeze sweeping over the amphitheater.

I stop feet away from where they stand and follow their stares, pinching my lips together.

Evetta looks awful. Dark smudges mar her skin, and her hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days. I blink when I register that the tattered dress she wears is the same one she wore when she attacked me.

How long has she been gone?

I count the weeks, and my stomach churns.

The Original Immortal tried to kill me. If Des hadn’t intervened, she would have succeeded. And yet… I feel bad for her.

The specifics of what she endured are a mystery, but her state confirms it was unpleasant to say the least.

“Evetta,” Thane’s voice booms through the air, “you are accused of crimes against the Council. How do you plead? ”

Despite her ragged state and subservient position, Evetta lifts her pointed chin, and her words are loud enough to echo against the stone. “Not guilty.”

The crowd lets out a collective gasp, followed by hushed murmurs. Thane's next fierce scowl silences them.

Tension thickens in the air.

The Immortal leader levels his ice-cold glare on Evetta. “You attempted to murder a mortal under my protection—a mortal once believed to be Desmond’s One and the key to unlocking his power.”

My eyebrows rise.

Once believed?

Does that mean Thane’s changed his mind?

“At the time of the alleged attack, I was unaware of that information.” Evetta’s voice wavers.

Lome leans forward and snarls. “ Alleged ?”

Evetta’s head snaps in his direction. “I did not intend to murder the girl.”

You could have fooled me…

“Liar.” Lome takes another threatening step forward, the violence radiating from him unlike anything I’ve seen from the usually easygoing Immortal.

“Have enough pride to not portray yourself as a lying, blithering idiot, Evetta. Every soul in here knows jealousy is your kryptonite. This is not the first time your power has overridden your good sense.” “And I doubt it will be the last,” Thane remarks.

Several in the crowd nod and murmur their agreement.

Evetta’s entire body begins to tremble. “I am not a newly born descendant. I can control myself.”

“And yet…” Des speaks for the first time, unfathomable fury burning from his narrowed eyes. “You didn’t.”

Evetta’s tremors increase. “Forgive me, Desmond. I only meant to?— ”

“No.” His eyes flash green. “I’m not interested in your excuses. The Council has already determined your sentence.”

Shocked exhalations fill the air. The gathered Immortals whip their heads from side to side, looking at one another as if to confirm they heard him correctly.

Thane clears his throat and bellows, “The acting members of the Council have decided that you, Evetta, will have your power bound for half a century as punishment for your loss of control.”

What? My jaw drops. Can the Originals do that?

Shouts of outrage pepper the air, but they’re drowned out by claps and cheers of approval.

It looks like they can…

No wonder so many lesser Immortals submit to the Originals’ authority.

“No!” Evetta cries in a shrill voice. “I paid my tithe. I crawled out of the Underworld. I’ve done my time.”

“You’re wrong.” Des’s eyes flash again. “I rule the Underworld, Evetta, and I did not let you cross those gates because you earned your freedom. You are only here to receive your sentence in front of members of our community.”

Evetta’s head whips from side to side. Her eyes widen as she turns towards the other Originals, her face white as a ghost.

“Faine. Julisanna. Charmian …” her voice cracks. “You cannot allow this to happen. It is not right.”

Faine, the nature-loving Immortal, lowers her gaze. Julianna meets Evetta’s imploring stare with lips pressed tight. While Charmian replies with no hint of emotion, “The Council has decided.”

Evetta’s face twists with a scowl. “You are all cowards . Sycophants. You will do whatever these tyrants say to stay in their good graces.”

“That will do, Evetta.” Thane tucks his hands behind his back. “Do you accept your sentence?”

“No,” she spits. “I don’t. ”

She rises on shaking legs, stumbling. None of the Originals move to help her. The whispers in the crowd grow louder.

Evetta rights herself and throws her matted hair over her shoulder. “This is not right ! The girl was mortal, but she wasn’t Des’s One. What does it matter if something happened to her?”

All eyes snap to the formidable presence standing at the center of the stage.

Des’s glare slices through the Immortal before him, sharp as honed steel. The muscle in his jaw ticks, fists knotting tight at his sides as if he’s holding back the storm gathering inside him.

My heart gives a violent jolt as I’m hit with fury rolling off him in waves, flowing over the crowd.

But when Des speaks, his tone is even, though glinting with a dangerous edge, “Regardless of the mortal’s identity, you chose to act against the Council.”

“I didn’t?—”

“You and Adir have conspired with rebels to undermine our authority and bring instability to our world.”

“That’s not what?—”

“And for that.” Des’s eyes blaze with such raw violence that it knocks the air from my lungs. I press back until the stone wall bites into my spine. “You will remain in the Underworld for the duration of your sentence.”

My blood runs cold. Every word from Des’s lips drips with venom, revealing a glimpse of the Immortal the world fears.

Evetta screams. “You can’t do that! I am an Original and I?—”

A blinding pulse of white light pierces the air. I throw my arm across my face, eyes squeezing shut as Evetta’s scream cuts off mid-shout.

When the light fades, I crack an eyelid. Her spot on the stage is empty, save for a shred of her tattered dress, fluttering in the still air.

For a heartbeat, the crowd is silent, stunned. Des’s face remains a mask of indifference. The other Originals? Not nearly as composed.

Eros and Julisanna trade a wary look. Faine and Charmian avert their gazes, their frowns poorly hidden.

The quiet fractures with the rustle of shifting clothes and the low buzz of voices. My eyes catch on a tall Immortal with a long silver braid as he surges to his feet, his voice slicing through the murmurs.

“What about Adir?”

Ominous silence follows.

Then, Thane crosses his arms and growls, “What about him?”

“He’s more guilty than Evetta,” the lesser Immortal throws a hand to the stage where Evetta once stood. “He leads the rebellion. He should be sent to the Underworld.”

Several in the crowd nod while others remain still as statues, wary of catching the wrathful eye of one of the Originals.

Thane dips his chin, “Adir will receive a trial in time. Until then, he is being detained for the good of all kind.”

More Immortals in the crowd nod their heads. They trust Thane. They believe he will handle the issue with Adir.

Some disagree.

Another lesser Immortal, a female this time, rises. “Adir is not a rebel. He doesn’t wish to overthrow the Council. He only wants fair treatment for all Immortals. Original, lesser, or descendants.”

“That’s right!” another cries out.

A third stands. “Don’t be foolish, descendants aren’t like us.”

My forehead furrows. Are they talking about Immortal descendants? I didn’t think they were Immortal…

My thoughts are cut off as more and more shouts fly through the air, transforming the once-subdued crowd into a sea of heated debate that I don’t fully understand .

The brothers watch the arguments unfold without another word.

It isn’t until the pushing and shoving start that Thane’s voice booms, “ Enough !”

A pulse of blue power emanates from his outstretched palms, crashing over the crowd. The force shoves the Immortals back onto the stone benches while I press my palms against the solid surface behind me to stay on my feet.

Several cry out in protest, but Thane’s power remains a heavy weight on their shoulders, holding them down.

Holy shit.

“There is no way the girl is mortal,” a brave, perhaps foolish, soul calls from the back of the crowd.

My neck twists.

A man with a long, deep-red beard thrashes against the power restraining him. “You wouldn’t be doing this if she were just a mortal!”

I, along with the rest of the crowd, whip my attention back to the stage.

Des, Thane, and Lome don’t move. Their expressions give nothing away. They’re stone-cold and silent.

Seconds pass before Lome’s mask falls, and he grins. “You are mistaken, Nial. My brothers and I grew attached to the girl during her time with us, but she is not Des’s One. Darcie is mortal. She’s ordinary.”

His words should be a relief. They’re what I’ve been saying all along. So why aren’t they?

“If that’s the case…” Charmian steps forward, her musical voice catching the interest of every person in the amphitheater. The intrigue her interruption stirs is palpable.

Her eyes brighten as she walks to the center of the stage, scanning the crowd, before her attention slides over and locks onto me. “... then how is she with us at this very moment?”