“I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
“Doubtful,” Doraan grumbled, refusing to look at Cormac.
“I knew your mother when she was young. My parents worked for her family.”
Doraan whipped his head around, frowning at Cormac. “What? Why have you never told me that?”
“Because it never really mattered until now. I didn’t think you had gained your mother’s gifts and you hated sorcery so much that I thought talking to you about her would have made things worse for you. No one wants to think their parents lied to them.”
“So…so all this time you knew? My mother is a Sorceress and I could be a Sorcerer? Does my father know, too?”
“Yes, and no, he doesn’t know.”
“Why? Why would you keep this from me?”
“You were too young, too angry, and it wouldn’t have made any difference. We were still all cursed and couldn’t have done anything about it. I just didn’t think it would help the situation. I felt you knowing would have made it worse, and there was no one on board that could have helped you learn to control your powers. As the years went by and you showed no affinity for sorcery, I just assumed you had no gifts, taking after your father.”
“Ever since I was a boy, I’ve felt an ember inside of me, brewing, growing with each year trying to spark into a flame.” Doraan’s voice was low, a subtle growl in his tone. “I’ve always felt something foreign inside of me and to think all this time you knew. You had ten years to tell me this Cormac! Ten fucking years!”
“I’m so sorry, Doraan. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want you to hate yourself for what you are.”
“Well it’s too late for that Cormac!” he yelled, saliva spraying from his lips from his rage. “Get out.”
“Doraan,” Cormac attempted.
“I said get out!” he bellowed.
The fire in the balcony lanterns exploded and shot upward to the sky.
“No,” Cormac said simply, unphased by the wayward flames. “You are acting like the child you were when Forcina first cursed us. It's time to grow up, Doraan. In the real world, people deal with their problems and face new challenges head on. They don’t sulk, wallowing on balconies.”
Slowly, Doraan’s anger ebbed as Cormac’s words settled in. He was right. He was acting like a child, not a prince, and definitely not like the possible leader of the Empire.
Doraan took a deep breath, the flames returning to their original small flicker.
“I’m sorry, Cormac. It’s just that everything has been too much these past weeks. First, going back to Aksahri. Then Kamira came aboard, and now this. My mind is so overloaded and constantly anxious. And on top of all that, this whole trip has been for nothing.” Doraan closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the marble posts of the balcony railing with a thunk. “I’m leaving here with more questions than answers. I give up, Cormac. We are never going home. Let this King in the North destroy Aksahri. My whole existence has been nothing but a lie, and I’m done with all of them. I’m done caring.”
“You don’t mean that. There is still time. We could still find a way.”
“It’s over,” Doraan moaned. “Tomorrow, we leave at first light and we sail toward the coast to find a merchant ship to steal from just like normal.”
Cormac opened and then closed his month before shaking his silver speckled head and getting up, leaving the room without another word.
For someone who was so against finding the Temple for so long, he would have assumed Cormac would be happy that he was giving up. The Sorcerers here had been fairly adamant. They could not help them. They didn’t even understand the curse or how Forcina had done it.
So, tomorrow, just before sunrise, he would gather his crew, forget about this place, forget about his own manifestation of gifts, and go back to living a life of piracy until he drew his last breath.
31
Kamira
Dawnhadcometoosoon. Kamira hadn’t slept a wink. She had spent all night walking the Temple grounds after her encounter with that strange man. There had been something very different about him, an ominous feeling that she was in the presence of someone very powerful. It had caused a sense of dread to fill her, making her skin crawl.
She looked down at her hands resting in her lap, remembering how he had snapped his finger and a flame appeared, conjured from nothing. Kamira closed her eyes, searching down to her core for something, anything, that could help her create an element. There was a small swell of something deep inside. She poked and prodded it, testing its abilities, pulling on it. She opened her eyes and snapped her fingers, but nothing happened. She huffed a laugh, shaking her head, “So, stupid,” she whispered and rubbed her tired eyes. She couldn’t create elements. No one could. That man probably had something up his sleeve—it was all some trick.
As she lowered her hand, it knocked against the glass jar hanging around her neck. She gripped the vial, studying the swirling purple liquid with a curious eye. The man had known what it was and told her she might need it soon, but why? And how would he know when she would need it? He had also warned her about an enemy who was close to her. What did that even mean? Honestly, she was beginning to think it had all just been a dream—that the man wasn’t real at all, just some figment of her imagination that came out to play. She had been running on little sleep these last few days, so she wouldn’t put it past her mind to be playing tricks on her.
Kamira dropped the vial, sighing as it thudded against her chest. She had learned so much last night that it was all just a jumbled mess in her head. Supposedly, she was a descendant of the first Legion, Honoria the Protector. Did Adonis know? Did he realize the type of power they had? But the most shocking discovery was that Forcina was a Legion. And if Rogaan was to be believed, then they were closely related. But not only that, Forcina had somehow learned to bend fate, and if she could do that, then maybe Kamira could learn, too. She could finish what they had set out to do and end the curse of theCursed Soulfor good.
