Page 45 of These Fractured Bonds

The Curse Eater paused its drinking, blood dribbling down its chin. “To break the curse, I will need a part of the caster’s life force.”

“Life force? Do you mean blood?”

“Blood will be best.”

“I don’t have that,” she said.

“Acquire it. I cannot do it otherwise. The threads of life between you are woven into a braid. I need his life force to coax the braid to undo itself.”

Yareli fell to her knees. She had been duped. Helplessness hit her. “He’s a First General. I can’t take anything of his without guaranteed death. There has to be another way.”

The Curse Eater placed the second goblet on the counter, trailing its fingers on the rim as if it was painful not to drink it immediately. Without as much as a glance toward Yareli, it resumed stirring the cauldron.

“There is.”

“What is it?” Yareli snapped. As despair sank its teeth into her, her patience thinned.

“Kill him.”

Her hope stuttered and died. How could she accomplish either of those two things? No longer wanting to be there, she stood and noted her lightheadedness, remembering her wound. TheCurse Eater wore a satisfied smirk, pissing her off. She needed to leave now, because something told her there was no rule against eating a corpse. As Yareli walked away, the Curse Eater called after her.

“Bring his blood or kill him.”

Its laughter echoed in Yareli’s head long after she could no longer hear it.

Chapter 17

Yarelistumbledoutofthe cave with blood running down her arm. She collapsed. Her only options—two nearly impossible tasks—mocked her, cackling in the Curse Eater’s voice. She registered August talking to her, but no sound reached her. A moment later, his magic swept over her like a warm sunny day, gentle like the soft touch of a lover. It was nothing like Tuom’s had been—dark and angry. In contrast, August’s magic was familiar, like home.

She peered at him—a stranger to her current self—and was overwhelmed with a surge of gratefulness. Weird, intenseattraction aside, he was a good friend. Her voice was soft when she shared the truth.

“August, I don’t think I can go home.”

He finished healing her and helped her up before asking, “What did the Curse Eater say?”

Unable to utter the words that felt like damnation, she shook her head and headed to her tent, seeking solitude. She ran through the facts: The political balance in Izmari was hanging by a thread; no matter how much he deserved it, killing Tuom was out of the question.For now. It made her furious and despondent. Yareli wanted to kill him before she returned home. However, as a potential catalyst to civil war, she wasn’t sure sheshouldanymore. At least not now.

That left her with his blood. Since he wouldn’t willingly give it, she would have to use force. Drugging him was the best option. However, the logistics of slipping him a drug were too complex to make any sort of sense to her.

She bit her lip as helplessness stirred once more. There would be no crying until she was alone. She opened the flap of her tent, but she was stopped by August’s hand on her arm.

“Yareli.”

His gentle tone shook her resolve, and she thought of throwing her arms around him and letting her tears run free, but shame held her captive. She didn’t want August to see the truth—that Tuom had broken her, violated her very soul by enslaving her to him; that even though she had escaped, he still haunted her every step. She removed his hand.

“Later,” she said.

Later, after she had finished crying and falling apart at the seams. She shut herself in her tent.

Afterafewhours,Yareli emerged from her seclusion, rubbing her swollen eyes. She was no closer to a solution, but she had a tighter rein over her emotions. August stood from the campfire and brought her a cup of water. She took it, gulping down the much-needed liquid. Thanking him, she sat by the fire. She wouldn’t avoid it any longer, wouldn’t allow herself to fall deeper into the spirals of despair.

She tucked her knees close to her chest, focusing on the solution instead of the nature of the curse inflicted on her. It felt horrible, shameful, and once uttered, it would be irrevocably true. If she rejected her reality, if she snuffed it, prevented it from taking its first breath, she could move forward, or so she hoped.

“There are two ways to break the curse. The first: kill Tuom.”

The words settled in the air like a chilling mist, dousing everything with bleakness. She glanced at August, who sat on the log next to her, sporting not a perturbed expression as she had expected, but a thoughtful one instead.

“It won't be easy murdering a First General, but it’s doable.”