Hera gives him a look that would freeze fire. “Watch your tone, boy. I am still your elder.” She pauses, and the silence is brutal. “You cannot break the curse. It was cast by a witch whose death sealed it in the flow of destiny. That is why you are both reincarnated.”
I swallow hard. “Why does Kieran always have his memories while I never do?”
Hera smiles coldly now, and her age is suddenly evident in her eyes—centuries of knowledge, of pain, of watching the world turn. “Now you are asking the right question. But I’m sure your Kieran can give you an answer. After all, he met with one of my sisters recently, didn’t he?”
“I couldn’t understand what she was talking about.” Kieran’s frustration bleeds into his voice. “She kept saying ‘a curse on a curse.’”
Hera nods. “Yes. We cannot interfere in another witch’s magic, especially one that is tied to destiny and fate.” She takes a breath, and I hold mine. “We could only wait for the curse to weaken, but it would have taken millennia. So, the gypsy witches cast a curse upon the curse.”
“What does that mean?” My heart is racing now.
“They intended to have Kieran remember Elara in every lifetime.” She looks between the two of us. “For the curse to weaken, Elara had to keep dying until the weight of the curse of the gypsy witches could weaken the original curse significantly. Enough that it would allow the two of you to forcibly change your own destiny.”
My blood runs cold. “Keep dying.” The words taste like ash in my mouth. I’ve died. Over and over. And they planned it.
Kieran’s hand is trembling against my thigh now. I reach down, and his fingers immediately lace through mine, crushing them tightly.
“Once the curse is sufficiently weakened,” Hera continues, “you get one chance to fix everything.”
“How?” I demand. “How can we change our destiny?”
“I don’t know.” Hera’s honesty is somehow worse than a lie. “You have to figure out why you were cursed and get rid of the one who cursed you.”
Kieran frowns. “That person is long dead. You said so yourself.”
Hera leans back in her chair, and the movement is utterly graceful. “No. They reincarnate as you two do. You have to find them, wipe out their entire line, and then, the curse will break.”
I lean forward so fast Kieran’s hand nearly slips from mine. “You don’t know who it is? You can’t give us a clue?”
“No.”
The single word is a death sentence.
Hera gets to her feet, and I watch as she approaches me. She caresses my face, her touch so tender that it makes my chest ache.
“You look nothing like Elara,” she says softly, “yet you are every bit of her. But Elara was innocent, whereas you are a warrior.”
“I don’t feel like a warrior,” I whisper.
“You were the child of the gypsy witches.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “The only child in a long time. There is nothing we wouldn’t have done for you, and nothing we haven’t done for you.”
A wave of emotion crashes over me. This woman loved Elara. Loves me, even though I am not her anymore.
“We will be watching over you,” Hera says, her voice thick. “And I wish that you will get the happiness you once dreamed of.”
She walks toward the door, and panic seizes me.
“Would you like to stay?” The words tumble out desperately. I’m suddenly terrified to let her out of my sight, to lose this connection to who I once was, to the people who loved me. “Please.”
Hera shakes her head, and the sadness in her smile breaks me. “The curse we cast had its own consequences. We are no longer allowed to step out of our territory. The gypsy witches who once traveled the world are now imprisoned on one select piece of land.”
“Since the curse was cast,” I breathe.
“Since we chose to save you.” She opens the door. “We would do it again.”
Then, she’s gone, disappearing into the shadows.
After a moment, Kieran murmurs, “She has returned.”
