Hello friends! It has been crazy busy behind the scenes as I get everything prepped and ready for my first Indie book release. There has definitely been a huge learning curve, but thankfully I have so many more experienced people in my corner helping me get through it. I can't wait for you to dive in to this story, so let's get excited for it's release by reading the first chapter! Beware-there are major spoilers for The Legionnaire in this chapter, so you should read book 1 before jumping in.
Saiden could not remember what it felt like to be free of grief. To not have the shadow of death walking only steps behind her. Her hands became more blood stained with every life she took. If she could see the aftermath now, she knew her hands would be dark as blackest night.
Inside, she felt hollow. The sense of purpose she had started to build, now crushed by the blades she carried at the base of her spine. Sweat pooled beneath them as the hot sun bore down on her and her mother where they knelt in prayer beside the small grave marker in the legion’s cemetery. She ran her fingers over the letters she now knew by heart.
Our beloved general fallen before her time. May she rest forever in Ilona’s peaceful embrace.
She tugged at the sleeves of her shirt, pulling them down over the still healing tattoos she had had inked into her skin only yesterday.
On her left hand, the one that would call Ilona, goddess of death, a bright red rose bloomed, the same kind Loralei had carefully tended to in her gardens. Sometimes the sight of it reminded Saiden of blood, and it was a reminder she needed. A reminder of the cost of her decisions.
On the right, on Keir’s side, a brilliant lily, the kind only Saiden knew Nakti loved. Something no one else would ever learn from her, because Saiden had killed the woman who had raised her.
Her mother had come with her, not willing to stray too far from her daughter’s side. Saiden wondered if Magdalena felt the same way—that if they separated, if Saiden were out of her sight, she would realize it was all a dream. Or a nightmare.
Saiden still wasn’t sure which one she was living.
Silent tears slid down her cheeks, cool against the sun kissed warmth of her skin. The newly sprouted grass swallowed them up. Even her grief taken from her before she was ready. She couldn’t reconcile all that she had lost with what she had gained—the chance she had to be with her mother. The mother who loved her so much she had been willing to spend the rest of her days rotting in a living crypt of a prison cell below the castle. Yet she yearned for the stern reprimands that had been a constant all these years since she had last been with her parents.
Saiden rested her hands against the hot stone, bowing down so her forehead rested against them. The first day she had visited Nakti, she had burned the skin on her forehead, a band of blisters marking her, a visible sign of the pain that tightened her stomach. But her mother had seen them, and she had cried, holding Saiden to her chest until she agreed to see a healer. She tried now to hide her pain better, to keep the burning confined to her palms, where only Mozare would see when he forced her to use healing balm each night before sleep.
She wondered if her mother could tell from her spot behind her, how much it hurt to have Magdalena in her life again at the same time as she was mourning the woman who had raised her. As she was also hiding the grief she felt for failing Loralei. Could her mother hear the same screams that bore through her mind whenever she was silent?
Saiden stood, turning the corner to find the small stone she had buried, hidden from the normal path through the cemetery. Loralei’s death had not been given the same honor as Nakti’s. There was no headstone for her to weep over. She didn’t know that it was what she was missing in order to grieve, until her mother had placed the uneven stone into her palm, and wrapped Saiden’s hand in both of her frail, bony ones. She had cried again, and they had come to the cemetery together to honor a fallen queen.
Her mother came up behind her, footsteps quiet, though the creak of unused bones could still be heard if Saiden listened closely enough.
She placed one hand against her back, not rushing, just letting Saiden know she was there.
Saiden said her last prayer, bowing over to touch her forehead to the small stone that was the only proof Loralei had lived. Then she wiped her tears with the cuff of her long-sleeved shirt and standing, turned to her mother with a sad smile on her face.
“Little Maus,” Magdalena said, reaching her other hand up to cup her daughter’s face.
Saiden flinched, though she tried hard to keep it from Magdalena’s notice. Too much of her was still waiting for the other shoe to fall, waiting for her punishment to find her hidden here with everything she could ever want. “I think your friend is waiting for you.”
She was right, of course. Saiden had known that Mozare had been there for the past few minutes, silently waiting at the top of the hill for her to be finished. A guard at his post once more, always watching her back. Despite the fact they were meant to be safe now. That they had supposedly brought a better life to the people of Kaizia.
She stuck out her arm, waiting for her mother to tuck her hand into the crook of her elbow so they could walk back to the castle. They had all been given rooms there, presumably so they were never too far if Revon wanted them. She didn’t care about his reasons, only that she had her loved ones close, where she could protect them from the punishment that would eventually come for her.
Mozare smiled down at them, rushing over to offer Magdalena another arm.
Saiden worried that his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore, but she didn’t push it. She wasn’t sure she could bear another person’s pain when she was already drowning in her own.
He nodded at her. “Saiden, Mama Maggie,” Mozare had taken to using the nickname not long after their reunion during the coup, and it made her mother smile whenever he used it. Mozare turned to speak directly with her mother, “Revon planned another session for you with the healers, he wants to make sure we get you back into perfect health.”
Her mother made a small sound in the back of her throat. It had been a fight to get her to attend the healing sessions at all, but Saiden could see how color was coming back to her mother’s cheeks, how her arms weren’t so thin anymore. There was strength in her grip that hadn’t been there the first time they had embraced since Saiden was a child.
“He needs us to look over some troops, make sure everything is still falling back in order after…” He paused, and the weight of it sank onto her shoulders. “Everything that’s happened in the past few weeks.” The death permeating the cemetery pushed its way back into her heart, the heaviness pulling at her from every direction. Mozare knew that her mother didn’t like being far away from Saiden, so letting her know that they’d be tending to their own responsibilities while she went to her healing session was smart.
“Besides, I heard Cassimir was going to be at the session,” Mozare added.
Her mother smiled at that. She had taken an instant liking to the foreign ambassador, which made everyone smile. There was an extra pep in her step as they made their way back to the palace, escorting her to the healers.
I hope you enjoyed reading that first chapter! You can preorder the e-book for The Blood-Cursed now on Amazon and physical pre-orders should be listed this week. Check my instagram for the official notice of when everything goes live!
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