by Kaylin Lee
The auditorium filled quickly after the morning bell rang, the older Sentinels looking freshly washed and uncomfortable in their dress uniforms as they filed into their seats.
“Rise for Prince Estevan and Princess Belle.” Dad was at the front of the room, standing stiffly as he led the room in saluting the royal family when they took their seats on the stage.
Raven and Egan and the other instructors stepped on to the stage next, taking their places behind the prince and princess. Finally, Dad stepped up to the podium. His red-brown beard was threaded with gray now, his wild hair neatly combed and tied back for the moment—no doubt it would be out of place again by the end of the ceremony. He searched the crowd for a moment, his eyes flicking from side to side until they rested on me in the back. He seemed to swallow, then looked away and cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming, everyone,” he began. “We’re here to induct the newest Asylian Sentinels …”
The pain that smothered my chest shouldn’t have taken me by surprise, but it did. Just when I thought the loss of my father couldn’t hurt anymore, it shot to life once again.
I’d perfected the art of avoiding him the way the curse wanted at home, but in the Sentinels, he was my commander. I couldn’t escape moments like these—couldn’t escape noticing how he’d aged, and how he still seemed to grow sad when he saw me, even after five years of distance.
Sometimes, it felt like the only way I could get through the final days before my curse’s fulfillment was knowing I wouldn’t be missing anything, anyway. It would be easy to fall into eternal sleep in the Masters’ palace if I wasn’t leaving anything behind.
But then I’d see Dad, notice how he’d always pause to search a crowd of Sentinels for me, and there was no denying it—he hadn’t truly given up on me. Which meant I still had a life to hold onto, which meant Elektra and her curse still had something to take away from me.
The curse shot a warning stab into my heart. Of course we do, it hissed.
I tried to focus on Dad’s words as he called new Sentinels up onto the stage with him one by one, but the pain in my chest was too distracting. I rubbed my chest subtly and went back to counting the chairs, determined not to look at Dad again.
Corbin climbed onto the stage. The team he’d been assigned to erupted in whistles and shouts from where they sat together in the auditorium. Corbin grinned and waved, then bowed, confident as ever.
Tavar was next. I didn’t hear the team number, but when I saw who was cheering, my heart leapt. He’d been assigned to the best team in the whole Sentinels—Cole’s team, the 19th. It was a wonderful honor.
The 19th Sentinels team was sunburned and scruffy, gathered by the far edge of the auditorium, smaller than the other groups of Sentinels clustered around the room. They’d just returned from a mission in the Badlands, where the rumors held that they’d had a bloody encounter with bandits who’d just kidnapped a merchant and his young family, planning to hold them for ransom. They’d lost three men in the fight—the worst casualties on a team since the last of the Masters’ buried curses had been found four years ago.
Several other Sentinels went next. Eugene went to the 19th with Tavar, grinning from ear to ear as the elite group cheered to welcome him.
Someone nudged me. “He’s calling you, Bri.” The younger recruit sitting beside me jerked his head toward the stage, his eyebrows raised at my hesitance. “You should probably get up there.”
The curse compelled my legs to stand, then propelled me down the aisle toward my dad. His face was stony as he saluted me on the stage, the vulnerability I’d seen a few moments earlier nowhere in sight. “Briar Rose Mattas,” he said grimly. “Assigned to the 19th. Congratulations.”
I managed not to flinch and hoped my face revealed no sign of the wail building up in my throat.
I saluted Dad, then turned to the cheering team at the edge of the auditorium and saluted them, too.
Deacon was on that team. The medic who’d once suspected me of heart problems waved and winked as I went to stand in line behind my father, beside the other new Sentinels.
And Cole, the Sentinel with legendary strength and skill in combat, was one of my father’s best friends. His pregnant wife Kaia sat beside him, beaming at me as she applauded along with the rest of the team.
Deacon. Cole. Eugene. I wanted to scream. Tavar.
He stood several spots down from me in line, his posture stiff. I couldn’t do this. No, it was too much—to not only lose my own life, but to bring down my only friend in the process? It was far, far too much.
I was dimly aware of the curse laughing, delighted by my pain as the cheering died down and the next Sentinel was called.
Too much. Too much. Too—
I counted the number of empty seats, then the full ones. Then I counted them all from the beginning, anything to keep the curse too bored and complacent to notice the strength of my anger.
Because if it knew the intensity of my feelings, it might guess that somewhere, deep within me, I hadn’t given up the fight at all.
Chapter 12
The curse’s fulfillment was coming soon. I woke to its shivery anticipation in my chest well before dawn. I was barely awake when it propelled me out of bed and into my Sentinels uniform.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, it hissed excitedly. You will sleep an eternal sleep for my Master. And your mother will join you, soon enough.
How, after five years of knowing this was coming, did the curse’s words still have the power to send dread coursing through me? It shouldn’t have been possible for me to still be so sad, so scared, and yet here I was.
I splashed water on my puffy eyes and put on my boots. No noise came from Alba’s room. She’d been up late with our mother in the kitchen, then fallen asleep crying in her room just a few hours ago. I’d known I was destined for the Badlands for five years, and I was still terrified of my fate. Alba had known of the mission for less than a day, and in just a few hours, she’d be entering the Badlands with me and the 19th. I couldn’t imagine how my sweet, sensitive twin was coping.
And your sister will join you, too, the curse said with a gleeful cackle. I am certain of it!
The curse had been delighted to learn that Alba was being assigned to my team for this mission. The rumor was that she’d offended the powerful Galanos family by attracting the youngest son’s interest, and now they were determined to get her out of the city and away from their son.
I thought of the old travel journal that had led me to the crater. I’d found it in the Galanos family library. Could they be working with Elektra or Piers? It seemed an unlikely coincidence that Alba would enter the Badlands the day before my curse took hold.
Perhaps the Masters wanted both of us in their grasp for a better chance of luring our mother into the crater, too.
Mom was at the kitchen table when I got downstairs, her back stiff and straight as she watched me enter.
“Morning, Bri,” she said without smiling, her voice barely above a whisper. Her braid was loose, her eyes bloodshot and ringed with shadows. She gripped a mug of coffee like she hadn’t yet decided whether to drink it or chuck it against the wall. “You’ll look out for her, won’t you?” Her gaze bore into me, and for a moment I hoped she could see all the way to the truth stitched over my heart, to the curse that controlled my every breath.
Look out for her! The curse laughed wildly. Yes, we will look out for her, we certainly will—
I nodded and looked away, grabbing for an apple from the table to take my mind off the curse’s elation.
“Go wake her.” Mom sipped her coffee, apparently having decided not to destroy it yet. “She needs more practice.”
I took the stairs two at a time, then knocked on Alba’s door. When I heard her muffled, tearful response, I went back downstairs to eat my apple. The repetitive chewing motions bored the curse, quieting its laughter, and I found myself oddly encouraged when Alba entered the kitchen a moment later, fully dressed, with neatly braided hair, dry ey
es, and a stubborn set to her jaw.
Mom put her to work practicing a self-defense move using expellant magic. I listened to them argue and drill as I finished my apple and threw away the core. Neither of them seemed to suspect the Masters were behind this assignment, and Mom hadn’t mentioned anything about leaving Asylia to accompany us. That was good.
And Alba … she was strong when she needed to be, wasn’t she? I thought of how she’d placed her trembling hands on Prince Estevan’s back five years earlier, healing him from aurae overuse like a professional healer instead of a shaky, self-taught thirteen-year-old.
I spun the cap of my canteen off to distract the curse, then washed it carefully, scrubbing every inch of the bottle’s rim with obsessive, repetitive motions. The curse rested, bored.
Alba was strong. I nearly nodded to myself. She’d even managed to convince a Procus lord to violate every social convention and become enamored enough with her to introduce her to his parents. It was a dream she’d been talking about since we were children, and now, though she was barely eighteen, she’d somehow made the wish come true. She was paying for it today, of course. But a weak, helpless girl wouldn’t have made it this far, right?
Perhaps she’d survive the Badlands and the Masters, all on her own. I just had to keep my curse from taking her down with me.
The curse began to stir. I put my canteen into my pack. “It’s time to go.” I tried to ignore Alba’s flinch as I felt the curse surge with excitement at my words. “Get your stuff.”
Mom went to the fomecoach out front while Alba rushed upstairs for her boots and coat.
I looked around the dim, silent kitchen. This was goodbye, wasn’t it? I’d never set foot in this villa again.
My hands tightened into fists as I surveyed cold, quiet space. I hated this kitchen. It was the room where I’d made the worst choice of my life—the choice to leave my family in a fit of stupid, vain self-pity. And it was the room where I’d hurt my family a thousand times over the last five years, smothering any attempt they made to love me, compelled by the curse’s ruthless need to keep me isolated from anyone who might be able to stop it from being fulfilled.
Another memory slipped into my mind, a different kitchen, a different moment …
Stay, stay! I thought of Tavar’s grandfather turning to face me from the stove, recalled the warm, spicy scent of his stewed meat.
If you want to stay, you can. Don’t know if you’ll like our Western food, though. I pictured Tavar’s apprehensive, vulnerable expression as he watched me take my first bite of their dinner, and my eyes drifted shut, longing pressing hard against my chest.
That was the kitchen I wanted to remember—the warm, safe little tenement apartment where the curse had once left me alone, unconcerned by the vanquished Western people and their traditional dishes, not yet suspicious of Tavar’s attention to me.
The curse shot an angry stab of pain into my chest, then another. I ignored it. I had one day left before eternal sleep claimed me. What did it matter if I thought about Tavar now? I had nothing left to lose. And surely the curse wouldn’t kill me now, just one day before fulfillment.
My mind turned back to the last time we’d sparred in preparation for the Sentinels’ exam a month earlier. I thought of Tavar’s dark-red hair drenched with sweat, hanging loose over his forehead, his muscular chest heaving as we finished our last sparring match the day before the Sentinels’ entry test. Well done, Bri, he’d said when we finished. The curse shot yet another jolt of pain through my chest as I remembered the way Tavar’s blue eyes had held mine when we said goodbye after the match, so steady, so confident and unflinching. You’ll make it tomorrow, he had said. I know you will.
“Bri—”
I opened my eyes. Alba was back in the kitchen, watching me with a worried expression. The curse stopped the pain, ever mindful of an audience after the last time I’d nearly been sent to a healer. “Come on. We’ll be late.”
My sister followed me out to the fomecoach in silence.
Alba was strong, I reminded myself again as we got into the fomecoach where Mom waited. Alba would make it, even if I didn’t. And I’d do whatever it took to keep Mom from being lured into the crater. That was what mattered.
Chapter 13
“How much further to the campsite?” Alba whispered, resting her arms on her knees like they were the only things keeping her off the forest floor.
Lazy, foolish girl, the curse hissed spitefully. She will rest tomorrow with you, won’t she?
I spun the top on my canteen to lull the curse into silence. “Probably another hour or two. We’ll try to cover as much ground as we can before then.”
Alba shivered. “It’s so cold out here. I thought it would be warmer, since it’s spring.”
She never stops complaining, does she? Weak, weak, WEAK—
“The mountains are always cold. Here.” I gave her my gloves. “Keeping your hands warm will help.”
The vulnerable, hopeful expression that took over Alba’s face made me want to cringe. “But won’t you need them?”
Oh, poor creature, Briar Rose, will you be cold? The curse cackled. Cold is just the beginning—
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Hey! What was that?” Eugene was on his feet, staring off into the forest.
The curse quieted warily. My stomach roiled with dread. Was this it? The moment the Masters had been planning to take me and Alba to the crater, to turn the rest of the team into hostages and messengers—if they were lucky?
“A squirrel.” Cole’s broad shoulders shook with laugher. “Calm down, kid. You’re going to shoot one of us.”
“You sure?”
“You can shoot the squirrel if you want.” Deacon smirked. “But then you’ll have to eat it.”
“I’m not joking this time. I thought I saw something.” Eugene finally lowered his crossbow and shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.”
The curse didn’t rest. If anything, it grew more alert and excited, straining my senses to search the woods for any trace of approaching company.
Poor, jumpy Eugene. There’s something wrong with her, Eugene had griped years earlier, the first time I beat him in training. He’d been right back then, and he was probably right this time. And still, no one believed him.
Dread made my limbs heavy as I sat motionless beside Alba. The curse’s control of my body was so tight, I couldn’t even fidget with my canteen’s cap anymore.
“Break’s over,” Cole said. “If you’re looking for a fight, we might as well start walking and see if we can find one.”
Alba looked terrified.
“He’s joking.” I could feel the curse’s disgust at her fear, but it still forced me to comfort her as it had in the fomewagon when we first entered the Badlands. It couldn’t have her running back to safety before the Masters came for us, could it? “You’ll be fine, Albs.” The emotionless lie tasted dry and lifeless on my tongue. “We’ll all be fine.”
We hiked on, apprehension thick in my veins, making me feel sluggish and jittery at the same time. I wasn’t ready yet. Didn’t I still have a day to get back to the crater? How could I break away from the team first if the Masters came to us now?
“Eyes out. Looks like a camp to the left of those trees. Bri and Tavar, go check it out.”
My heart sank. The last thing I needed was to be next to Tavar when the Masters came for me. The curse propelled me forward beside him, moving in sync as we had a thousand times before in training.
“Sentinels approaching,” Tavar called out sharply. “We mean no harm to you as long as you mean no harm to us.”
“Come out with your hands where we can see them.” I spoke to the woods around the camp. “Now.”
No one stirred. The small, makeshift camp was clearly empty. No fire, no markings on the ground where a Badlander or two might have spent the previous night. Had it been vacated recently, or weeks ago? Or was this just a distraction?
Cole called out for m
y report.
I’d been using my absorbent power to check the air for traces of magic ever since the curse went alert, but I made a show of checking the area anyway. “No mages in the area except Alba,” I yelled over my shoulder.
There was a commotion back on the main path. Tavar and I turned at the same time.
Eugene and an older, bearded Sentinel—Deacon’s friend—were sprinting off through the woods in the opposite direction. The curse was shaking with excitement now, holding my whole body still, ready for the Masters to approach.
I could feel Tavar tensing beside me, but the curse wouldn’t even let me look at him.
Cole looked annoyed but not particularly concerned as he turned back toward us. “Clear the camp and surrounding area,” he shouted.
I couldn’t even speak to reply. The curse held me in a cocoon of tension, certain the Masters would attack at any moment. It made me stick close to Tavar as he strode into the woods on the other side of the camp.
“You well?” Tavar kept his gaze on the woods around us as he addressed me, his voice quiet.
“Of course,” I choked out.
He darted a glance at me. “You seem … different.”
The curse squeezed me so tightly, I could barely reply. “I’m fine.”
Tavar glanced at the quiet copse of trees around us, then lowered his weapon and edged toward me. “Bri. C’mon. You don’t have to pretend with me.” He adjusted his pack strap, his blue-eyed gaze steady and piercing as he studied me. “I know we haven’t talked much lately, but I … I just want you to know … I’m here for you. As your friend, not just a sparring partner, or whatever it is I am to you.”
I swallowed. The curse snarled furiously in my chest as I met Tavar’s eyes, unable to speak through the curse’s tight grip. I wished I could tell him I wasn’t truly his friend. That he didn’t even know me. That I was about to lead him to the Masters, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. And he wouldn’t know until it was too late to escape.
“Find anything yet?” Cole approached us from the camp. “The others took positions behind the boulder back there.” He jerked his head back, toward the slope we’d been approaching on our hike.