Page 171 of Curse of Darkness
“What happened?”
“If you had killed your mother,” Lucere spits, tugging the fabric from my hands, “then this blight wouldn’t have spread. It hit me three hours ago. I heard her voice in my head, calling me a traitor and telling me I would pay for this. This… this down started to spread across my skin.” A sob escapes her. “I can’t get it off.”
That’s what the razor is for.
That’s why the bandages are bloody.
“If I’d killed her,” I murmur, “then nothing would have changed. She cursed you, Lucere. And if her rage toward you was great enough when she spat the curse, then nothing would have swayed it. Not even death itself.” I go to my knees, taking her hands in mine. “But itcanbe broken. Every curse can be broken.”
“How?” Her laughter is bitter. “True love’s kiss? Look at me, Iskvien. Who could ever loveme?”
“Lucere,” I tell her, taking her hands in mine. “Love—true love—has nothing to do with what one looks like. There’s someone out there for you. Someone who will see past the feathers, see your true heart. But if there is one thing I have learned in the past thirteen years it is that true love is all well and good, but the greatest thing of all is to know acceptance and love for yourself. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to break this curse.”
She looks away sharply, her lip trembling.
I take a deep breath, because weneedher and the soldiers Ravenal has brought. “But this game is not over yet. Thiago’s scouts have said there are two forces of goblins moving toward us and an enormous host of unseelie arrowing at us from the west.” We don’t have time to worry about curses. Not now. “If we don’t stand together, then you won’t need to worry about this curse.”
An expression somewhat akin to steel crosses her face. “Have we heard back from Maren?”
I shake my head.
The Queen of Aska’s silence is answer itself.
The Askans aren’t coming.
“And Kyrian?”
“He just joined Thiago in the war tent. He’s brought every warrior he can.”
Slowly she pushes to her feet, tugging her hood up over her hair again. “Very well. I will prepare my generals and—” Her head tracks sharply toward the door. The color drains from her cheeks. “What’s that?”
Clearly her hearing is better than mine, because I can only just make out the jangle of spurs.
The tent flaps part, and Baylor ducks through, carrying something in his arms.
I barely notice who follows him.
All I can see is Imerys, her head tucked gently against his shoulder and her lashes painting a fan across her cheeks. There’s no sign of injury, but she’s—
“What happened to her?” Lucere demands, pushing past me in a swirl of red. Her hood tumbles back, revealing all the feathers down her throat, but she’s so focused on her sister that she doesn’t seem to notice. “You were supposed to get her out safely. Whathappened?”
“I don’t know,” Baylor replies, laying Imerys gently on the bedroll. There’s something tender about the way he brushes her hair back off her face with his battle-scarred knuckles and the image of them strikes me through the heart: an enormous fae warrior with silvery hair half-knotted on his head, and a raven-haired princess asleep on the trundle. “We were fleeing Hawthorne Castle and she suddenly collapsed. I cannot wake her.”
His voice is so gentle.
His touch so reverent.
It’s like a fairy tale spinning to life right in front of my eyes.
I see it.
Lucere sees it.
The color absolutely drains from her face.
And I want to take her hand and squeeze it in sympathy, because I think Thiago’s arrow struck true. I think his gambit in sending Baylor to protect her paid off.
Mess with a heart, and you risk breaking it.
