The Shadow’s Curse Read Online Free Page A

trying to break off a splinter of wood and hack through the felt. But Khareh’s guards had been on her immediately, shortening her rope and securing it more tightly than usual.
    Last night, there had been silence. No more screaming.
    Wadi almost cried tears of relief, but then her stomach filled with dread. The lack of noise could only mean one of two things: Vlad was dead, or he had been sent away. She would never be able to help him. And he would never be able to help her.
    Her last connection to her former life was gone. Raim was her only hope. But she didn’t know where Raim was, or if he was even in Darhan any more. The last time she had seen him, he had been trapped underneath falling rocks as a cave came crashing down around him.
    Pain blossomed beneath her ribs, reminding her of Khareh’s brutality and recklessness – the memory of Khareh plunging the knife into her chest almost as painful as the moment itself. The wound could have killed her, but he had reassured her later that he had always known his spirit could heal her before she lost too much blood. Khareh played with life like it was a toy he could discard at any moment.
    It had been the second time she had been brought back from the brink of near-death by a spirit. Once by Draikh, after she had fallen from the tunnel exit of Lazar. Once by the spirit of Raim.
    She wasn’t keen to try the trick a third time.
    She reached instinctively to the pendant at her neck. One of her haziest memories of her time in captivity was just after she had been stabbed. Khareh had brought her to his yurt, where the spirit of Raim performed the healing. Khareh had tried to take the pendant from her then, but Garus had stopped him. Even through the cloud of pain, she heard him explain about the oath contained within the pass-stone: that any person who possessed it was sworn to return to Lazar. ‘Let the girl remain bound to that cursed place, like I am, your Eminence. You do not want that burden to bear.’
    Since then, Khareh had rarely let her out of his sight. He had her trapped. She couldn’t just take off the pendant and leave it behind, and he knew it. Any attempt to abandon the pass-stone would make her an oathbreaker to the spirits within the stone. And that was something she could never allow. The taboo bothered her still. Even if the person who occupied her thoughts the most was an oathbreaker.
    Raim. Had he made it back to Lazar? Or had the cave-in at the tunnel entrance wounded him? All she could remember was the fear as rocks came crashing down around her, the shock at seeing Raim hurtle through the sky off the tall cliff to be with her, the relief that he made it safely – and finally, the searing pain of Khareh’s blade through her chest. After that . . . she remembered nothing else but the yurt.
    A flash of bright light interrupted her train of thought as the curtain into the yurt lifted. Wadi shielded her eyes and dropped her quill at the same time.
    She recoiled as she recognized the silhouette of the man who entered: Khareh.
    He slumped down on some scattered cushions opposite her. A shadow followed him inside, and took up his place at Khareh’s right-hand side.
    ‘Wadi, I can’t tell you what a day I’ve had.’ Khareh reached up and massaged his temples, before releasing a huge sigh. He then lifted his enormous jaguar-fang crown from his head and cast it aside, as if it were nothing. The crown rolled on the floor, until one of the fangs snagged on the carpet. ‘Being a khan is really tiring.’
    ‘You mean being a tyrant is.’
    Khareh put a hand over his heart. ‘Wadi, you wound me.’
    She rolled her eyes.
    ‘How are those letters going?’
    ‘Fine.’ Khareh’s request had baffled her. He had asked her to copy out letters that were to be sent to all the warlords in Darhan – most of whom likely couldn’t read. She might have risked putting in a line or two of warning, but Khareh had been clear about the consequences if she tried: she