Page 6 of Of Curses and Moonlight

The man’s eyes flew open, then grew wide as he took in Odette and Elna with their weapons. Odette raised her knife, determined to finish him.

“Praesidium,” he said, and when she brought down the dagger, she was stopped inches from burying the blade in his throat.

He swung around and kicked her in the chest so hard her ribs cracked. She careened backward, hitting the wall before collapsing onto the floor. A moan escaped her as waves of agony shot through her body at the tiniest movement.

He turned to face Elna, but she dashed out of the room. Another cry from next door brought him around, panic in his expression. He gripped something off his nightstand and threw it at the wall that joined with his sister’s. Odette struggled to sit up, still clutching her dagger. She wouldn’t fail.

An opening appeared in between their two rooms, allowing Odette to see into the sister’s room. The young woman had wedged herself behind her vanity, far enough back that the assassins were having a hard time getting to her. Yessly looked enraged and restless. Lina looked guilty and terrified.

Elna burst into the room. “Kill her!” She pointed at the sister. “We need her dead!”

The sorcerer raised a hand and spoke some words. The vanity rose into the air, ramming into Yessly and Lina, knocking them both to the floor.

“Zoya, through the portal. Now!” he roared at his sister.

Zoya ran for the opening between rooms as Elna lunged for her. The girl passed through, and the sorcerer caught her in his arms, the portal slamming shut in Elna’s face.

Odette was on her feet, though she wasn’t in good shape. She staggered across the room. At least get the sister. She had to try. For the others’ sake. The man turned, his expression a mask of rage.

A deadly fury burned in his eyes as he released his sister and stepped up to Odette, gripping her wrist that held the knife. He twisted it until pain sparked up her forearm, forcing her to drop her weapon to the floor.

In a flash, she drew her last dagger and swung up to bury it inside him. He pushed her away, releasing her to avoid being stabbed.

Odette grit her teeth against the pain. She needed to remain in motion, determined to fight to the end. She jerked onto the bed, her breaths ragged, her boots sinking into the covers. The man came toward her. She lunged with her knife, ready to take him out.

The sorcerer spoke more words, and the blankets under Odette twisted around her legs. She let out a cry as she landed hard on the floor of the room, blackness sparking through her vision.

Burning agony radiated like heat through her body with every breath. Perhaps she wasn’t a match for his power. Perhaps she should have left when she had the chance.

He jerked the sigil of the swan from around his neck, his voice deep and the words coming fast. With a growl he stalked toward her, then tore the dagger from her grasp and forced her to her feet. He shoved her back on the bed, trapping her there, waves of agony rolling over her as he pressed against her ribs. Gripping the sigil, his words became a blur in her mind. He broke it in two, and shoved one half of it inside himself, lodging it under his skin. He yanked back the collar of her tunic. Then he reached down, slamming the second half against her chest. She jolted as his fingers moved under her skin. He straightened, letting her breathe, the pain subsiding slightly. Odette gasped for air. What had he done? He’d stuck somethinginsideof her.

“Roth!” Zoya cried.

Elna had returned, nearly reaching Zoya, ready to pounce.

She stopped. Unexplainably, the knife about to end the girl slipped from Elna’s fingers. She released a scream and started clawing at her own arms and face.

An eerie popping sounded and Elna’s bones snapped, her arm jutting at the wrong angle. She cried out in terror as she bent double. Her skin sprouted something off-color and white. They bloomed from her, becoming more feather-like. Odette watched in horror as the other woman shrunk and contorted. Until she had completely transformed.

Into a swan.

Chapter 3

Rothbart

2 Months Prior. Same Night.

The swan standing on the floor of Rothbart’s bedchamber flapped its wings. Then fled the room.

Rothbart stood, breaths heaving, body taut. The spell had taken a lot out of him, but with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the fatigue felt distant. Something that would hit him later. Every part of him was ready to wring the neck of the woman lying on the bed before him. But he forced himself to check the urge. He needed answers.

The swirling red design on the mask marked her as an elite assassin. One of the deadly Night Hawks. A group of skilled mercenary killers.

He ripped off the cloth covering her mouth and nose, gripping the throat of the mysterious woman who had come moments away from murdering him. “Who are you?” he thundered. “Who sent you?”

She merely stared at him, her face expressionless. No, there was a spark of something. Pain. Probably from how hard he’d kicked her. He’d held nothing back. From the way she’d moved after, he suspected he may have cracked some ribs. Good.

“Roth.”

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