Page 3 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

“I am not paying you for your opinion, mercenary,” he snapped at me.

Mercenary—he spat the name at me. A knot twisted in my stomach. Once, I was a queen. Now, I’d break the mind of whomever they put before me so long as they had enough gold to pay.

“Perhaps I might suggest a compromise?”

The princess’s youthful face brightened with hope.

“Go on…” The king crossed his arms over his chest.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I stalled for time, choosing mywords wisely. “Let me erase the princess from this boy’s mind and replace it with a life of celibacy. He will serve you faithfully until his death. I guarantee it.”

The young man’s shoulders stiffened as his eyes bounced back and forth between the king and me. He did not dare to look at the princess.

“Yes, please, Father. Please let her erase his mind.” Tears streamed down the girl’s face. “And… mine too,” she said through sniffles, daring to approach the boy. “I don’t want to live without him.” She ran a dainty hand down the boy’s still-round face.

A fragment of a memory flashed through my mind of hands entwined, a breath on my neck, stolen glances from across a crowded room.

I swallowed the thickness growing in my throat, pushing back the memories of my youth, of the love I lost.

“Out of the question!” he snarled. His brow furrowed in brief regret before he hid the weakness away. He tried again, softer, “We have a responsibility, my darling. As regents, we must never compromise the secrets or security of our kingdom. Certainly, we must never let a magus go digging through their mind.”

“No.” The princess rushed to her father, yanking on his crossed arms, hoping her touch would make him understand. “This is what you wanted. I don’t want to live every day knowing he’ll never remember what we had.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Please give me this mercy.”

The king softened. “Very well. Erase both their memories.”

“Thank you, Father.” The princess embraced the king, turning his once stern face red.

The young man relaxed, his shoulders drooping.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. To enter another’s mind is to enter a maze. You don’t know where it leads, and you don’t know if you can escape before the hedges close in on you.Slowing my heart rate, I focused on calming memories—the smell of my horse, Arion, the sun kissing my face. Going into a mind without stilling your own could trigger defenses.

I closed my eyes, reaching deep inside myself for my power. I knocked on the simple peasant door leading to the boy’s mind.

Click, the door swung open.

Show me the love you shared with the princess. Start at the beginning.

He took me to where he first met the princess—the palace’s great hall. Garlands of flowers hung from the rafters, filling the room with the scent of lilac and jasmine—an Ostara celebration. From across the room, the princess and the soldier locked eyes. She gave him a coy smile, sending his pulse racing.

A sharp pain clawed at my heart. Fragments of my past invaded my mind. A stolen smile, a kiss under the cover of darkness, this could have been me—had been me.

Slamming the door on my nostalgia, I focused on the task at hand; sweat dripped down my temples. One by one, I erased every kiss, every glance, every loving embrace. I took every memory until his unyielding allegiance belonged to the Winter King rather than his former beloved.

A slow breath escaped my lips. I worked through his mind, trying to keep the parts of him I could. I worked with a surgeon’s precision, clipping the princess’s lacy outline from every memory. Were I to take too much, his entire personality could change. Too little, and her face disappears but the absence remains, little fragments worming through the brain like an unscratchable itch.

The boy’s dark head hung low. His shoulders rising and falling with shallow breaths. The smell of sweat replaced the smell of fear.

“It is done.”

“Is he… alive?” The king leaned in to get a closer look.

Raising his head, the boy’s eyes shone with the vigor of a hunter eager for the kill. “My King, my life is yours.”

The cracking of my knees echoed through the lavish chamber as I stood. “He is your acolyte now. He will follow you until his bitter end, and perhaps even in death, he will remain loyal.”

The silver-haired king’s face lit with pleasure. “Very well.” The king motioned to two guards who led the boy out while the princess looked on, tears streaming down her face.

My fingers itched to light the cigarette in my pocket—a ritual I saved for after a completed job. Thinking about smoke burning in my lungs set me at ease. Even now I could taste the spice of clove on my tongue.

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