She is conniving, ruthless, and brutal, but she was good to me. I liked her quite a bit. She had once made me feel powerful when I felt consumed by the curse.
I was only following instructions…Cursed One reminds me.
The king rises. “We have spent hundreds of years building to the golden age of the Elven Dominion. That hard work will not be wasted. In all my wisdom, we tried to use the gifts the gods had given us to improve our future for our children, and the gods have clearly shown us, in all their wisdom, that this is not meant to be. The crown will not be mocked,” he says, his voice carrying over the din. “Let all who doubted my mercy witness its cost.”
The crowd roars.
The guards retreat, leaving us in the sand. Vann flexes his wrists against the chain and murmurs, “Stay behind me.”
“You can’t protect me as well as you think,” I bite back. The last time I relied on him, I woke up in a dungeon.
“Arlet, now isn’t the time for anger,” he mutters. “I don’t plan to die with you angry at me, and I doubly refuse to watch you die.”
I almost laugh, but it comes out bitter. “How does it feel to be so pious, even now? After we ruined everything?”
Before he can answer, the far gates creak open.
A first wolf bursts through, and I yelp, staggering back. Thesight of its massive ribs showing under gray fur, its eyes glowing faintly blue, causes me to do exactly as Vann asked. My heart races as another emerges. And another. Four in total, muzzles foaming.
The crowd cheers louder.
Vann readies the sword, but his movements are mechanical. He glances back at me once. “It’s going to be all right, Firelocks.”
A part of me softens at the use of the nickname. The wolves prowl closer, and my heart leaps to my throat. They don’t attack straight off, which somehow makes the whole display worse. When the first wolf lunges, I scream.
Vann, however, meets it midair, the chain jerking me forward as his blade cuts across its snout. It yelps and reels away.
Come on, you can do better than that,Cursed One whispers in my mind.
Another charges me from the side. I swing too late. It knocks me flat, teeth tearing through leather and into my arm. I scream and roll, the chain yanking tight as Vann hauls me upright.
I feel Cursed One’s exasperation. In fact, I feel the exact moment that her strength lends itself to my limbs. It’s not what it was when she possessed me fully, but it is something.
“Move!” he snaps.
“I’m trying!”
We stumble, adjust, and fall into rhythm.
Another wolf leaps. He ducks, drags me down with him. Together we thrust upward—two blades, one motion—and the wolf impales itself on steel.
The crowd gasps. Then cheers.
When the other wolf lunges toward me again, the heightened instincts take over, despite the weakness of my body. I feel when the sword passes through fur and crunches against bone, sliding over sinew.
The yelp is sad.
I pull the sword free, noting how much extra resistance there is when the blade is dull.
Something prickles at the corner of my vision as I stare at the fallen creature. Something dark builds up inside of me. It burns theedges of the shapes in front of me, and I swear I see bits of smoke singeing the fur of the wolf.
Vann attacks the fourth and final wolf, yanking me forward and out of my reverie. The hot-dark tingles fade as quickly as they started, and I am forced to move with him as he fells our final foe.
When it’s over, the sand is streaked red. I press my hand against my arm, blood seeping between my fingers.
Vann looks at me, breathing hard. “You’re hurt.”
“Not enough to die.”