Page 57 of The Royal Curse

And without the potion, there’d only be one way for him to keep me that way.

No, gods. No, I had to lie to him. He couldn’t know. I couldn’t bear that.

Heavy footsteps crunched on the small rocks littering the floor, and then a hand grasped my shoulder hard enough to make me cry out, flipping me onto my back. I blinked up through a blur of tears into Dario’s furious face, his blond brows drawn together and thin lips compressed as he glared down at me out of bloodshot eyes. He looked almost as shitty as I felt, and I wished I could appreciate it more.

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll shut you up,” he growled. “What the hell is—” Dario stopped abruptly, mouth hanging open. “Oh, fuck,” he said after a moment, and passed his hand over his face. He spun around. “Where are the prince’s bags?”

The wind whistled. The fire crackled. A horse whickered softly.

“The prince’s bags,” Dario repeated slowly, his voice deadly. “His saddlebags. That have whatever medicine it is that keeps him from going crazy and dying!” He whirled back to me as I began to laugh again, high and thin, my voice cracking. “So help me, if you don’t shut up I’ll fucking put my fist down your throat!”

He cursed and shouted, demanding answers from the men, and I howled with laughter, rolling onto my side again, my blood starting to boil with fever, delirium overtaking me. I didn’t even know why it was funny. I knew they hadn’t brought my bags. Someone would’ve mentioned it by now.

“Damn you, you’re all useless!” he shouted, and turned back to me.

I saw his boot coming, and I tried to dodge, but he kicked me hard in the hip, and my laughter choked off in a sob. I fell silent at last, racked with pain and my vision going blurry, staring up at him.

I’d never seen anything more terrifying than his face: his narrowed eyes and the hard lines around his mouth. He hated me. He’d hated Andreas, and he hated me, and he’d be happy to see me suffer. I had to be alive to suffer. Lucky him.

“Well, since my fucking incompetent subordinates didn’t get your medicine, you’ll need something else,” he said, suddenly calm again. I tried to crawl backward, away from him, as my flesh tried to crawl off my bones. “Is it going to kill you? This evil magic of yours. Your royal curse. You going to die, Your Highness?”

“No,” I whispered, knowing how useless it was. “I’ll be f-fine.”

Dario grinned, showing far too many teeth. “Oh, you shouldn’t lie to me. Because I know you’re lying to me.” His foot shot out again, my upper thigh this time, and the pain arrowed up and in, white-hot. I moaned and shook, everything going hazy. “…wants to fuck the prince of Surbino, eh? See if a royal ass feels any better than a plain one?”

“No,” I gasped again. “No!”

“You don’t get a choice,” Dario snarled. “You took it from that traitor Andreas. You’ll be begging for more, I bet. Well? Who’s volunteering?”

“Not me,” said one of the men, after a pause. I thought it might be the officer. “Not lookin’ to be cursed myself.”

A low mumble of agreement followed. Through Dario’s legs, I could see one of them flicking the fingers of his left hand in a warding sign, the same one more rural citizens of Surbino used sometimes when I passed by.

“You really are fucking useless,” Dario said. “All of you. Fine. I’ll do it myself. And don’t try to watch, you want some fun, you have to fuck the little bastard yourself.”

Dario lunged for me, and I shouted and kicked and fought, but he backhanded me across the face and grasped me by the wrists, jerking them over my head and pulling me deeper into the cave. The three men stared for a moment, their eyes glinting orange and black in the firelight, before they shrugged and turned their backs.

“Please,” I cried, “please help me, don’t let him—fuck!” Dario dragged me over a sharp rock, and it sliced into my back and down my leg.

Dario pulled me around a corner of the cave and caught me around the chest, flinging me face-first onto a blanket, apparently his bedroll. I landed hard with the wind knocked out of me, dizzy and nauseated, and tried to fight, bucking as he landed on top with his body pressing down on my ass, between my legs. I screamed for Ennolu or Dromos or anyone, even the soldiers, to help me.

“Shut the fuck up, shut up,” he panted, tearing at my trousers. “You don’t want to die.”

“You were too much of a coward to face him yourself, you worthless—”

“Shut up! He’s dead and you’re under me, you little fucking cunt.” He got his hand around the back of my neck and shoved me down onto my face. Stars exploded behind my eyelids.

I tried to scream, but my mouth opened on his musty blanket, and I gagged and coughed, my hands trapped painfully under me, my magic searing through every vein and nerve, Dario’s other hand shoving my thighs apart, his touch sickening, horrific—and through my own cries and the pounding of my blood I thought I heard something else, a shout, a familiar deep voice raised in command, a voice I loved more than any other on earth.

Rage cut through my terror and despair, as hot as the cursed fever boiling my blood and brain. I’d sworn I’d kill Dario, that I’d live until he was dead.

“Niko!” Andreas’s voice again, imaginary and impossible, tormenting me with hopeless yearning, while Dario yanked my trousers down over my ass at last and put his cold hand on my crawling skin. Between my cheeks. Touching me where only Andreas had touched me, removing the imprint of Andreas’s callused hands, so gentle for how big they were and how much damage they could do if he wanted.

All of my fury and agony and the swirling magic inside me, all oily and tainted and deadly…it all compressed down and down, a weight like lead in my stomach and chest, crushing my organs and pushing the air out of my lungs, and then up and out, a cursed torrent, rushing out of me uncontrollably, everything inside me consumed in the flames of my hatred for Andreas’s murderer.

My magic screamed in triumph as it found its victim. And Dario shrieked, high-pitched and inhuman, his weight tumbling off of me. I struggled to my side and craned my neck, blinking the dirt and sweat out of my burning eyes.

Dario crouched behind me, moaning, clutching his right wrist in his left hand, staring down with his eyes wide in shock.

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