A Curse of Blood & Stone (Fate & Flame 2)

“And yet you’ve made him your second.”

“He was the natural choice. Yes, he is arrogant, but the others listen to him without question. He is the only one among them who will ever test me, but he does it with intelligence. For that, I value him. All leaders need to be challenged occasionally.”

“Or daily, as seems to be the case with us.”

Romeria ducks into her tent, disappearing from view.

“She needs to find her way with him—with all of them—otherwise, they will never trust her.”

And if they don’t trust the key caster, I will not regain my throne.

How long will we be able to hide what she is, once we’re deep into Venhorn, and Gesine unlocks this vast power that lies within?

I sigh. “To what do I owe you creeping up on me?”

“I would hardly call this creeping. If you weren’t mooning over her—”

“What do you want?” I snap. It’s bad enough that I must hide and watch Romeria from afar so I can keep her at a firm distance. That Abarrane mocks me for it …

Romeria has become my own personal curse.

Abarrane’s lip quirks. “Two of Danthrin’s servants ran in the night. The couple.”

“As I expected they would.” Their furtive whispers and glances didn’t leave much to the imagination about their plans.

“The idiots walked within five feet of Iago without realizing he was there.”

“But he let them pass without issue?”

“Begrudgingly.”

“What direction did they go?”

“South.”

Likely toward Cirilea. Maybe to the Rookery. “They won’t last long, but that is their choice.” Surely, they’ve heard the stories of what lurks among these hills—immortals without honor, cast out by their communities. The marauders cower within the trees until a caravan passes and then attack, usually at night, to steal the humans away from their keepers. They’ve never learned how to practice restraint, though, and the humans don’t survive long.

I’d heard rumors that the attacks were growing bolder. We sensed several spying on us yesterday. If we weren’t pressed for time, the Legion would have hunted them down and ended their plague upon Islor.

“I will say, for the record—again—that I do not think it wise to release these mortals we’ve procured. The Legion needs tributaries, especially in the mountains.”

“They can stay if they agree to it willingly. I did not remove them from that shameful situation solely for our benefit. They’ve been through much.” And my guilty conscience reminds me that I could have rescued them sooner. Should have rescued them sooner.

We’ve known of the growing atrocities across Islor for years but had grown too focused on politics and civility. As the prince, I could have taken a more active role in bringing the Islorians responsible to justice, instead of simply talking about it. In that, Romeria was right.

Did she agree with the brand of justice I delivered, though? Romeria has never had the stomach for that sort of punishment. But in this world, it is the only message that will carry far, the only warning that might be heeded. She will learn that soon, and she will need to strengthen her resolve if she is to survive, with or without my protection.

Still, I’ve been avoiding her since, afraid to see the judgment in her eyes.

“What happens if she decides she wishes to leave?” Abarrane asks, nodding toward where Romeria stood moments ago. “If she is no longer willing to remain with you?”

“Think of what she has endured thus far with me.”

“Blind luck.”

“You call it luck. I call it intelligence and a desire to survive. Romeria will not leave, because she is not a fool. She does not have the luxury of choice.”

In that, our fates are the same.