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Jude
No one knows why Raina’s absence cursed us, but there is one account by a lowly palace guard. His claims are unproven, but I hesitate to discuss the details with you in a letter. I request to speak with you in person when time permits.
Letter from Commander Wilton to King Brion,
year 1 of the curse
My mother had given me that book.
It was one of two things I had of hers, and I’d been so pissed at her for abandoning me as a child that I’d shoved her book into the shared library. No one ever read it; if it didn’t contain stories of war or the “art” of battle, not many of the Knights would touch it.
And of course, it had been the first book Kiara had selected.
I flipped over in bed, sleep not finding me. Not even my usual nightmares beckoned.
An hour earlier, I’d been thinking about the mother I’d never had. Wanting to torture myself, I’d journeyed to the library to seek her final farewell gift. When I had heard Kiara’s muffled screams from behind the door, I’d sprinted without thought, only to come upon that spineless bastard beating her senseless.
Something had snapped inside me, and it had taken everything not to deliver the blow that would ensure he never opened his eyes again. I’d wanted to murder him, wanted to—
A knock sounded, interrupting my deadly thoughts.
At this hour, it could only be one thing.
Seconds later, a single piece of paper slipped through the crack of my door.
Kiara and how soft her skin had felt beneath my calloused fingers died away, replaced by the numbness I’d grown all too accustomed to. It flooded into my chest like poison, wiping away any of the warmth I’d felt back there in the library.
I felt nothing at all as I lit the candle beside my bed.
Rising, I padded over to the piece of paper left behind by one of the king’s messengers.
One name had been scrawled upon the parchment.
Folding the note, I walked to the candle and allowed the flames to eat away at the evidence. Once it was nothing but ash, I turned toward my wardrobe. Shoving aside my Knight’s uniform, I found what I searched for and began changing.
…
Lord Maurice Landon slept soundly in his king-sized bed, only his snores echoing in the too-big room. Tonight wasn’t about sending a message, which meant less mess.
Stealing across the lord’s chamber, I hovered above him, watching as he took his last breaths. The blade in my hand seemed to shudder in anticipation, eager to spill blood.
I’d make this quick, and then—
I spotted a pair of small feet poking out from beneath the covers, a child-sized lump positioned at the bottom of the bed.
Shit.
Landon had one son. He’d never remarried after his wife died, despite being nearly as rich as the king himself and the subject of many of the court ladies’ attentions.
I paused, my hand beginning to tremble. If the child woke—
No. I’d told Cirian long ago that I drew the line at harming children, but even if he didn’t wake during the act, the bustling of the new morning would rouse him eventually, and he would forever be traumatized by the memory of waking up in a bed full of blood.
I didn’t have time for this, to hesitate, to grow a conscience.
My hand constricted around the hilt, inching closer to the slumbering lord, a man who’d likely pissed off Cirian by simply speaking up.
Many of the nobility wanted to overthrow a king more focused on self-image than on his own people, and they certainly weren’t thrilled he hadn’t lifted Asidia’s curse. But they should know better than to fight a monster.
