Page 132 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

“No, it doesn’t hurt that much.” My voice cracked with desperation, but I didn’t care. I wanted him.

Tharan pushed my hair behind my ear. “There will be plenty of time for kissing when you are healed.” His lips touched my forehead. “Sleep now, my Traitorous Queen, my King Killer.”

“You forgot my new title, Queen of the Dead.” A smirk crossed my face.

Tharan shook his head. “You need your rest.” He kissed my forehead again. “I will be right here next to you.” He motioned to a little bed he had made on the floor. “I promise I won’t leave you.”

“Okay,” I said, shutting my eyes. Sleep took me before Tharan could blow out the light.

49THARAN

Tharan watched Aelia sleep,running his hand through her hair, listening as she made little murmuring sounds. He couldn’t explain how he’d became so enamored by such a woman. For once, he didn’t need to pretend to be anything other than himself.

Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from her. The Scepter of the Dead lay quiet on the polished oak table. “Morrigan, show yourself. Bow before the Alder King.”

The scepter sprung to life. From the mouth of the bird, a thick black smoke poured onto the floor, taking the shape of a woman warrior.

“My king,” the Morrigan said, bowing low. The fair-haired maiden possessed both striking beauty and a fierce spirit, her azure eyes piercing and her complexion as fair as fresh milk. “You are not the Alder King.”

“My father is dead. Killed at the hands of the kingdom your army massacred.”A knife sliced through his heart at the thought of his father’s untimely death.

The ghostly figure of the deity took a seat at the table. “It was glorious. My army has not shed blood for an age.”

Tharan waved her off. “That’s not why I summoned you.”

The Morrigan cocked her head. “Then why, my king, did you summon me, if not to gloat over your victory?” She turned to look at Aelia, who still slept silently in the next room. “I have been waiting for one like her, you know. One which has the power to unleash me.”

“I know what the scepter does to the wielder. It sucks their life force until there is nothing left of them but a dried husk.”

“A small price to pay for the power the wielder gains.” She tapped her fingers on the table rhythmically. “She is no normal magus. There is a great power trapped inside her.”

Tharan raised an eyebrow at her. “She is made of that which came before.”

“Before?” The Morrigan’s brows knitted in confusion.

“Before the Trinity. Her mother is a Fate.”

“So, she is a goddess?” The Morrigan leaned back in her chair, crossing her hands over her chest.

“We are all ancient in our own ways. My father was born from the trees themselves. I’m guessing you knew him.”He fought back the tears welling behind his eyes.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lush lips. “Yes, I knew him before they called him king. When they called him by his name, Eoghan.” She leaned in close to Tharan. The smell of death lingered on her skin. “I loved your father for many centuries. Before the Trinity culled the land, we slaughtered creatures, both magus and humans, together. But he never returned my feelings.” She ran a ghostly finger over his scar. “How did you get this, fair king?” Sadness and longing flickered behind her ghoulish eyes.

Tharan lowered his eyes. “I loved the wrong woman.”

“Shame. You have your father’s eyes.”

Clearing his throat, he glanced toward Aelia.

The Morrigan caught his glance, pouncing like a cat on a mouse.

“You care for her, don’t you?” She sat back in the leather chair. “You called me to make a bargain for her life.”

Tharan’s body went rigid. “And what if I did?”

The Morrigan twirled her white hair lazily around her finger. “I’d say, once the blood is bound, there is no going back.”

Tharan’s heart blazed with what could be described as love for this woman he barely knew.“Take me. Bind me to your army.”

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