A Vow So Bold and Deadly (The Cursebreaker Series Book 3)

We’ve retreated to Rhen’s chambers. The hallways are still soaked with the blood of everyone the enchantress killed, and the castle smells like death and decay. It seems Rhen is missing an eye, but it’s hard to tell, because so much dirt and clotted blood cake to his face and hair. There are four long, filthy scabs that drag from his hairline across his right eye and down his cheek to curve into his jaw. The signs of Lilith’s handiwork are obvious.

He is … not well, Iisak said.

That’s very clear.

For weeks, I’ve been dreading the moment I would face him again. Dreading the thought of killing a man I once swore to protect, dreading the idea of falling to his blade if I couldn’t go through with it.

I didn’t expect to find him like this.

I should have. I remember Lilith’s torments. I remember how much Rhen endured on my behalf.

I see how much he’s endured this time.

Rhen hasn’t let go of Harper’s hand. They’re sitting together on the chaise by the hearth, and he keeps looking at her as if he expects her to vanish from the room if he glances away.

“It’s all right,” she whispers, and her breath hitches. “I’m here.”

“I would have come after you,” he says. “She told me she killed you.”

“She tried.”

“You must go.” He looks at me. “Take her out of here. Lilith will do worse. You know, Grey. You remember.”

“I came here to defeat her, not to run.” I’ve been pacing between the door, where Tycho stands guard, to the window, where I’ve whistled for Iisak, though he hasn’t appeared. I hear him shriek in the distance. I wonder if soldiers have begun to close on the castle.

“Grey?” Harper says softly. “Can you heal him?”

I stop in my pacing and turn.

Rhen freezes. His gaze meets mine, and he seems to recoil involuntarily.

I’ve seen this a dozen times in the people of Syhl Shallow, but it’s different to see it in Rhen. “Once healing has set in, I cannot undo that.” I pause. “But I can fix the rest of it. Are you in pain?”

Rhen shakes his head quickly, but it’s a lie, it has to be a lie. The start of infection is obvious, the places where his skin is swollen and furiously red.

Tycho looks over from the door. “It doesn’t hurt,” he says easily, and something about that is generous in a way only Tycho can be. Rhen hurt Tycho once, too.

But Rhen has the long, horrible history with magic. So many of the actions Rhen has taken have been in an effort to protect his people, but underneath, they’ve been a shield for his fear, his uncertainty, his pain.

After a long moment, Rhen unwinds his hands from Harper’s and he straightens, shifting to sit on his own. A shadow of his usual defiant independence slides across his face. “Do as you say.”

He might as well be saying Do your worst.

I cross the room and drag a low stool to sit in front of him. “I am not Lilith,” I say, and my tone isn’t gentle. If anything, a bit of anger slides into my words. “I won’t harm you.”

He says nothing, just looks straight back at me like he’s bracing himself. But when I reach out to touch his face, Rhen catches my wrist. His grip is tight against my bracer, the tendons on the back of his hand standing out.

“I’m not afraid,” he says, and there’s a breathless quality to his voice that makes me think that’s another lie. But then he adds, “I do not deserve it, Grey.”

That pulls at a chord in my chest, and I frown. “You took her torments for me,” I say quietly. “Season after season. What you did to me cannot undo that.”

“You stayed with me,” he says. “Season after season. Long after you should have fled. What I did—” His voice breaks. “What I did to you—”

“It is over,” I say. “It is done.” Because it is. “One poor choice shouldn’t undo a thousand good ones.”

He’s staring at me so intently, his breathing almost shaking.

I glance at his hand, still gripped tight on my wrist. “Rhen. Let go.”

He blinks, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever truly told him what to do.

What’s more shocking, possibly to both of us, is that he obeys.

I touch my fingers to the shredded ruin of his face, and he flinches before he catches himself. He’s so tense, his hands in fists, his knuckles white. No matter what he says, he is clearly afraid of the magic. But I can sense the moment my power begins to work, because his jaw loosens. His shoulders drop. The pain eases. The swelling recedes, the infection melting away. I saved a man’s eye once, but the damage to Rhen’s face has gone too far, too long. His eye is sealed shut. The scarring will be profound; I can already tell.

This is not the worst state I’ve ever seen Rhen in, not by a long shot, so I can easily keep any pity out of my gaze.

“Had I known you were my brother,” he says, his voice rough and trembling, “I would have forced you to leave on the very first day of her curse.”

I shake my head. “Had I known you were my brother, I would have stayed by your side just the same.” I feel the moment the healing finishes, and I withdraw my hand, giving him a narrow look. “Though admittedly, I wouldn’t have put up with half your nonsense.”

He startles, then almost smiles. He touches a hand to his cheek as if he’s expecting the damage to be gone, but he must feel the scarring, because the smile vanishes, leaving only a bleak look in his remaining eye.

Harper takes his free hand again. “It’s okay,” she says softly. “Scars mean you survived something terrible.”

“Ah, yes, Princess,” whispers a voice from across the room. Lilith, her voice slithering into the silence. “He has indeed survived something terrible. But haven’t we all?”

I whirl to my feet, weapons in hand, only reaching for my magic secondarily. But I’m a second too late, and her power drives me back, knocking away the furniture, sending Harper and Rhen scrambling.

“Don’t you see?” she calls to me. “You are weak, Grey. I’ve had a lifetime to learn this power. You’ve had a few months.”

“I don’t just have magic,” I snap, and I pull throwing blades from my bracer. They drive into her midsection, and she stumbles back. Tycho has a bow in his hands, and just as quickly, an arrow appears in her chest.

I go after her. “I’ll make sure you’re truly dead this time.” Then I pull my dagger, the one weapon I’ve saved for this moment, the one weapon I know will make a difference.

I aim right for her heart.

She screams and thrusts a hand at me, driving me back. It’s like a blast of cold wind, and I stagger, trying to stay on my feet. I call for my own magic, but it’s like standing against a hurricane with a piece of silk. I can feel the edges of my power fraying. The bones of my fingers begin to snap, and my grip on the dagger weakens. My magic flares to heal the injury, but as soon as I heal one bone, another fractures. The wind is intense, freezing cold, and I wish for Iisak, for mastery of my power, for anything.

Another bone snaps, and I cry out. I’m going to lose the weapon.

“You are too weak,” she says again.

“To me!” calls Tycho, and I toss the weapon in his direction, but the wind is stinging my eyes, overturning furniture, and I cannot tell if he’s caught it. Harper surges forward, but the wind catches her too, sending her flying back against the stone wall.

Lilith stands in the middle of the maelstrom, her hair lifting in the wind, blood streaming from her wounds. She laughs. “You thought you could stop me?” she demands. “All I have done to you, and you thought you could stop me?”

Tycho gets low to the floor, crawling with the dagger in his hand, his teeth gritted, his eyes clenched against the wind.

Lilith sees him. She smiles. It’s terrifying.

“Tycho!” I snap. “Tycho, hold!”

“Ah, Grey,” she croons. “You’ve found a little lapdog.”

Then she pulls the daggers out of her chest, draws back her hand, and throws.