“Help him. Please! Nadege hasn’t returned with his tonic, and the curse is trying to take hold. Do something,” Saundeiah cried.
“Questions,” Nahomie grumbled. “I have so many questions. But for now...”
Nahomie’s hands were soft like earth. Warm like flame. Soothing like the sea. She took hold of my face and held me like a precious stone. I choked for air. It had been over eight centuries since I was last held like this. Touched. Caressed. Soothed.
The moment Nahomie took me into her hands, my spirit, my soul, was instantly at ease. Blackfire seeped into my body, my bones, my blood, and calmed every tainted part of my being,temporarily conquering my inner darkness. For some time, all she did was hold me while quietly singing a melody with a voice so pure I almost cried.
“Tassarion Celèstian,” Nahomie cooed. “If you wanted my attention, waking me up for a stroll on the beach would have sufficed.”
She giggled easily, brushing her fingers through my hair after removing my crown, relieving the pressure on my temples. Unable to withhold them, tears streamed down my face as I let myself be held.
“Emélie,” I breathed, calling her middle name. The malevolent grip on my body finally released me. “Thank you.”
I held onto her, unable to let go. Breathed in her scent, relaxing into her arms. I felt our bond strengthening, the thread of gold growing thicker between our souls. Even if I didn’t have the wings to say it out loud, I knew.
This wasn’t just a contract.
This was real.
“What was that?”
Nahomie looked down at me with those enthralling amber eyes. I pressed my lips to her throat, lingering on her skin, before I pulled away to respond. I considered feeding her some bullrot to hide the truth. But what in the hèls would be the point now that we were both in this deep?
“A...mycurse.”
Her eyes widened. She squeezed my shoulders.
Pulled me tighter to her chest.
“I’m listening.”
Relentless, undeterred, stubborn female.Rot. I adored her.
Where did I even begin to explain?
“When I was about to escape captivity, my captor grabbed me and cursed me before I crossed through the Realm Portal.”
“Okay, so break it.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not like I was hexed by a Lougawès, Phantimèssa.”
“Oh?” she tilted her head. “The only ones I know who go around dropping curses like this are Lougawès and Witchdoks. This wasn’t from a witch or a witch doctor?”
“Worse.”
Nahomie frowned, her eyes narrowing.
“Worse.” She arched an eyebrow. “The only ones worse than those who operate in darkmajikare...” She shook her head. “But it isn’t possible.”
“Yes, it is.” I held her burning gaze with mine. “Say it,” I said, leaning towards her. “Who is worse than Lougawès and Witchdoks, Phantimèssa?”
Her nostrils flared.
“The Fallen.”
