Page 60 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

Mouth agape, I averted my eyes as he wrapped a robe around himself.

The attendant arrived shortly with two steaming cups smelling of cinnamon and apple. Tharan handed me one, motioning for me to sit on his bed.

Inhaling the comforting scent of nutmeg, I clung to the mug for warmth.

“So, what king are you killing?” He sipped his mug from a leather armchair by the fire. The picture of royalty.

“Gideon of the Highlands.”

“Ah, I should’ve guessed.” He took another drink. “He will be hailed as a hero for his display in the Court of Sorrows. Only the three of us know what Nysemia implied with her dying breath.”

I gathered my thoughts. I had so much to explain. “Once upon a time, Gideon was my husband.” I tapped my fingers on the copper mug, contemplating if I should reveal my secret to Tharan. “I am who they call the Traitorous Queen.”

His eyes widened. “I knew you were interesting.” He took another sip, leaning back in his chair. “Are the stories true? Did you destroy your own kingdom?”

My eyes fell to the floor in shame. “Women do stupid things for love.”

“Everyone does stupid things for love.” A knowing acceptance reflected back at me. “That’s how I got this scar.”He traced the path of pink flesh across his face.

I smothered a lump growing in my throat.

“I, too, fell in love with someone I should not have, and I paid the price.” He twisted a piece of his long hair around his index finger.

“What happened?” I asked, unsure if I wanted to know.

Tharan hesitated.

“Sorry if that’s too forward of me.” I bore a hole into my cider with my gaze.

“No, it is fine. The more I talk about it, the easier it becomes.” He sighed. “During the sylph and elven war, I fell in love with an elven woman, Lyra. She defected from the elves and joined the rebels. I was a junior captain and still unfamiliar with my own powers.” He stared off into the distance as if reliving the moment. “One night, I awoke to find Lyra gone. I tracked her deep into the forest. Where I found her leaking information to an elven scout. When I confronted her about it, she denied everything, insisting she was getting information from him. I believed her because I loved her.”

I shut my eyes. I knew how this story ended.

Tharan took a long drink. “Turns out I was a fool, just like you. She had used me to gain information. It almost cost us the war. When my father learned of her treachery, he had me kill her as punishment. Little did I know she was wearing a protective amulet.” He paused, trying to find the correct words. “I wanted it to be quick. To be painless for her. So, I convinced my father to let me take her life with magic. But when I cast the curse, it bounced off the amulet and hit me.” He tapped his scar. “I was humiliated in front of my father’s entire court. Once the amulet was removed, I placed it in the hilt of my sword, amplifying its power.” He did not look at me, choosing to stare into the fire as if he were watching the incident in the flames. “I split her in two, Aelia. I poured every ounce of hatred and embarrassment into that final blow.”

I swallowed hard.

“From then on, I vowed never to be tricked again. So, I keep everyone at a distance. Let them believe I’m cursed.” He looked at his hands. “Spell or not, I am cursed. Cursed to live knowing it is because of me thousands of my people are dead. Cursed to remember the look on my lover’s face as I split her skull in two.”

I grimaced, knowing what a poison self-loathing could be. “I’m sorry.” Those two miserable words were all I could conjure.

“I paid for my sins, Aelia. Two hundred years in the mines of the Stone Kingdom. I lived off gruel and suffered through the beatings. Reduced from a famed war hero to a prisoner, all because I chose the wrong woman to love.”

My heart ached. I knew all too well the pain he felt. To be betrayed by the one you love. Nothing in this world can prepare you for it. The shame, the guilt, the embarrassment, it eats away at you until there is nothing left but bone and regret.

“Did you feel better once you had killed her?” I asked, fixingmy eyes on his. I fantasized about killing Gideon a million different ways.

“For a moment,” Tharan said, rubbing his fingers up the side of the mug. “Emptiness and regret filled the hole she left. I became the creature you see before you. Heartbreaker extraordinaire.”

I bit my lip, running my hand over the fur pelt lining the bed, trying to fight the pressure building behind my eyes. Tharan sat next to me—pulling me in closer. Tears spilled down my cheeks. “I’m so angry, and I don’t know who I’m angrier at, myself or Gideon.”

Tharan said nothing, letting his acceptance fill the space between us. I buried my face in his chest, releasing years of pent-up emotion to a man I had just met.

“Gideon has my sister,” I said, finding my voice again. “He’s going to offer her to your father at the Yule Revelry for use of the Wild Hunt.”

Tharan laughed. “What would my father want with a mortal girl? He has consorts of every species and gender. She would need to be a literal god for him to lend his prized Wild Hunt.”

I knew what I had to do. The piece of the puzzle that would make everything fit into place. “Our mother is the human Fate, Morta.”

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