We are delighted to be sharing the first chapter from Kate Dramis’s The Curse of Sins, which is the sequel to The Curse of Saints! Releasing on June 25 2024, read on to discover the synopsis and first chapter, plus be sure to pre-order your copy!
STAY ANCHORED IN THE LIGHT, THEY TOLD HER. BUT WHAT HAD THE LIGHT EVER DONE FOR HER?
After discovering she’s prophesied to save the realm, Aya’s duty should be clear: return home with once-sworn enemy Will to serve their queen in the coming war against a rival kingdom…one whose pursuit of dark magic could bring the realm to its knees.
But with part of the prophecy still undiscovered, and their queen’s intentions increasingly suspect, Aya’s very purpose is quickly brought into question. With betrayal lurking around every corner, she and Will are forced to lie, manipulate, and hide what they’ve become to one another as they struggle to learn the truth before dark magic destroys them all.
And with secrets and lies trailing Aya wherever she goes, she has to wonder…do the gods truly want her to save the realm…or simply watch it burn?
Chapter 1
The chill of the marble floor was erased by the warmth of blood. It stained the surface red as it crept under her cheek and she slipped toward death.
She blinked, the edges of the bright room blurring further. Screams of terror echoed off the walls as she struggled to lift her chin, her eyes seeking that ever-present anchor. The room fell into a loose focus as she blinked again.
There. A slumped figure was on the floor beside her, his hand outstretched slightly, as if reaching for her.
No.
No.
No.
Denial pounded through her head, as loud as the screams that echoed off the walls.
He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be dead, because someone was still screaming, still roaring, still begging.
Her gaze settled on his face.
His gray eyes were lifeless.
The screams reached the pitch of the deepest sort of despair as a burning sensation ripped through her throat.
Only then did she recognize them as her own.
“A stubborn saint,” a voice murmured from above her. She dragged her eyes up, up, up, searching for the man responsible for her agony.
But a soft face stared down at her.
Golden hair. Brown eyes. A white gown.
The corners of the woman’s heart-shaped mouth were turned down in pity as she glanced at the lifeless body. Will’s hand was outstretched, still reaching, even in death.
“Perhaps now you’ll behave,” Gianna mused. “What do you think, Aya?”
Her name echoed across the room, a dull beat to the terror clawing at her chest.
Aya.
Aya.
AYA—
“AYA!”
Aya gasped, salt-tinged air searing her lungs as she sucked in a panicked breath. She barely registered the shadow of a figure above her before she was moving, her hand reaching for their throat.
I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her.
But warm fingers caught her wrist, pinning it by her head as a firm body pressed against her own.
Aya wrestled against the weight, but her other arm was pinned as well, and she couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, her mind too panicked for her to wrangle her power, and—
“It’s me,” a deep voice rasped, tension lining the baritone of it. “It’s me. You were dreaming.”
There was a note of familiarity just beneath the surface of her panic, but her adrenaline was still climbing, her fear a visceral thing that clawed up her throat and choked her breaths into shallow pants. The unmistakable presence of a Sensainos affinity slammed through her shattered shield, cool peace buffeting against the sharp edges of her panic. The affinity wrapped itself around the sensations inside and tugged, urging her pulse to slow and her lungs to open. It was enough to force the lingering visions from Aya’s nightmare out of her sight.
She blinked, and brown eyes became gray.
“Will.” His name was a whispered relief as his face came into focus, even as her breath stayed locked in her lungs.
“Breathe, love.”
Another wave of his affinity, gentler this time, brushed against her remaining panic. Aya felt her muscles relax into the mattress beneath her, her chest loosening slightly. Will’s thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, his head ducking as he brushed his lips across the space just below her ear.
A silent reassurance.
She could feel his own heart pounding against her chest, and he let out a shaky exhale as he murmured against her skin, “You’re safe.” Another brush of his lips, and he said it again—as if he needed to hear the words, too. “You’re safe.”
It took another moment for Aya to register the creaking of the ship. Her gaze darted around the small stateroom, her eyes adjusting to the darkness and aided by the moonlight streaming through a sizable porthole on the right. It cast flickering shadows across the tanned skin of Will’s chest as he carefully released his hold on her wrists and sat back on his heels.
Safe.
Aya sat up and braced her arms on her knees. She let her head hang as she forced another, deeper breath into her lungs. Will’s affinity brushed against her again, a mere caress, and that small feeling of peace settled further into her, as if his very essence curled around her bones. It helped to pull her heartbeat further from her throat, enough that she could mutter a soft thank-you, her voice raw from her screams.
Safe.
No.
They weren’t safe.
And it had been foolish to let herself pretend that they were anything close to it.
Five days. Five days at sea that Aya had spent distracting herself with training, gods, with Will, if only to bury the fear that crept into her dreams at night. It had been so simple to convince herself that they deserved a moment’s reprieve after everything that happened in Trahir.
Aya lifted her head, taking in his disheveled black hair, curled slightly from the humid sea air. His eyes were alert.
“You were awake.”
Will carded a hand through his strands. “I was.”
Just as he had been each night before when her dreams hauled her out of the few minutes of peace she’d found in sleep.
A full silence followed the admission. He never pushed her. Never forced her to talk about what drove her screaming from sleep, just as he didn’t share why he was awake when she did. It was as though they’d come to an unspoken agreement to bask in their stolen relief for as long as possible.
Gods knew it was going to be short-lived once they returned home to Tala.
Aya swallowed as she took in the exhaustion lining Will’s features—the exhaustion he pretended wasn’t there when they sparred on the main deck during the day, just like the pain in his side he ignored. Her gaze flitted to the scar now, the jagged line still an angry red from where King Dominic’s Second, Peter, had buried his knife in that godsforsaken throne room.
“You’ve hardly slept since we left,” she said softly.
Will gazed out the porthole for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “I can’t,” he finally admitted, a heaviness brought on by far more than a lack of sleep thick in his voice.
It wasn’t just a confession.
It was a surrender.
And it was enough to have Aya moving, her legs straddling his as she settled into his lap, arms locking around his neck. Will’s hands found her hips as he tugged her closer to him, his grip warm through the fabric of her shirt—his shirt, that she had stolen to wear at night, letting his burnt-ember and spiced-honey scent wrap around her fully, just as his arms did now.
She could feel some of his tension release as his forehead fell against hers, a long breath escaping his lungs.
For a few long moments, they simply breathed each other in. Will’s eyes stayed locked on hers, as if he could read her thoughts through her gaze.
“Talk to me,” he finally murmured.
Because apparently, five days were enough avoidance.
Aya’s jaw shifted. It was still so new—this thing between them. Or, at least, her acknowledgment of it. She still wasn’t used to letting herself share her fears with him. Gods, she hardly shared them with Tova, and Tova had been her best friend since they could walk.
“She killed you,” Aya admitted softly. “In my dream.”
“Gianna?”
Aya nodded, and Will fell back into his patient silence. He offered no platitudes, no empty promises of ease for what lay ahead; just his steady presence as an anchor while she sorted through the emotions that hung heavy in her chest.
“Ever since I learned of my power, it’s like I can’t catch my footing. Like I’m always one step behind,” she continued slowly. Will’s hands took up soothing strokes up and down her back as Aya forced a steadying breath. “Going home like this…not knowing what’s ahead of us…”
A broken body.
An outstretched hand.
Vacant gray eyes.
She swallowed the rest of her words as she tilted her head up so she could see him fully, her eyes tracing his features in an attempt to erase the visions of her nightmare. “I need to know if Lorna is right. If Gianna truly intends to use my power to tear down the veil and call in the gods.”
“I know,” Will murmured softly, tension lining his features. “I trust Lorna about as much as I trust Gianna, which only complicates matters.”
Aya wasn’t surprised that Will placed his mother in the same category as their queen. He’d thought Lorna dead for years until she’d approached him on one of his trips to Rinnia. She was a Saj, gifted with the Sight, and her ancestor had been the one who foretold the prophecy of the Second Saint.
Should darkness return, the gods hath not forsaken us. For a second of her kind will rise, born anew to right the greatest wrong.
Lorna had faked her own death and fled to Trahir to make sure Gianna never learned of her connection to the prophecy, or her own vision: that the veil, the gods-created divider between their realm and the beyond, was weak. Torn. Vulnerable.
What was it that Lorna had said?
What better way for your queen to enact vengeance on those who spit on the name of her gods than to call down the wrath of the gods themselves?
Aya wasn’t sure what to think. Gianna was devoted to the gods, yes. But the gods had promised that their return would mean destruction of their realm. To risk the wrath of the Divine, to risk the entire realm, to stop Kakos from recreating the Decachiré?
It hardly made sense.
Yet Aya’s trust in her queen had died in Trahir along with other parts of herself she’d yet to examine too closely. And Lorna…she had abandoned her son, her life, because she believed so fully in Gianna’s zeal.
They couldn’t simply ignore that.
Aya took a steadying breath before she continued. “My position as…a saint”—gods, she could barely get the word out—“is beneficial to us. The more Gianna believes I’m gods-sent, the more I play into her piousness, the more she will confide in me. If for no other reason than to feel as though she has a unique connection to the Divine. I can get us answers.”
Will’s eyes were hard, but his sigh was one of resignation. “I knew you’d arrive at such a conclusion.”
Aya cocked a brow. “Do you have a better plan?”
He cleared his throat, his hands flexing where they’d settled on her hips once more. “Lorna may not be trustworthy, but she was right about one thing: Gianna does have her way of getting answers.”
Aya frowned as she recalled Lorna’s insinuation—that her own son would be used against her. That Will would willingly hurt her in service to his queen. To get Gianna’s answers.
She opened her mouth to argue, but Will continued before she could. “It’s true. I left Tala with a certain reputation. I’ll need to continue it when we return.”
Aya turned his words over slowly. They both had reputations to uphold. She was Gianna’s Third, and Will her Second, the Dark Prince of Dunmeaden, Gianna’s Enforcer and…
“No.” Aya was surprised at how hard her voice sounded. But the meaning behind his words, the realization of why his face looked so grave, finally dawned on her, and she could feel her pulse ratcheting up as it did.
He couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t actually mean—
“It is what she will expect.”
“No.” Aya shoved herself off the bed, her thumb swiping against that scar on her palm—a marker of all they were to each other.
“It’s not as though I’m returning under her good graces,” Will pressed as he followed her. “I didn’t respond to the last letters from Lena.” The Persi, a fellow member of the Dyminara, had not only taken up the search for the supplier on the continent, but had also been responsible for corresponding with Aya and Will when they were gone. “By the time we arrive home, the last Gianna will have heard from me will be over a month ago. It’s naive to think I won’t face punishment for that alone, even with Zuri’s missive explaining what transpired.”
“You expect that to help convince me you should get closer to her?” she asked incredulously. “To pretend to be her…”
She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Gianna’s Second. Her Enforcer.
And her rumored lover.
A lie—a mask he’d spun to stay close to his queen and keep her attention from Aya.
“I do,” Will confirmed. “We both know I’m going to have to deploy every one of my talents to get back into her favor. This is one that has served me well. She will expect it of me, Aya. And me being close to her means we have information.” Will was speaking, but Aya could hardly hear him over the roaring in her ears. To hear those whispers, to watch as Gianna raked her eyes over him as if she couldn’t wait to undress him behind closed doors…
The queen’s plaything. The queen’s whore.
“It doesn’t have to be you,” Aya hissed. “It shouldn’t be you.”
“Aya—”
“She wants me. That’s what you said. She wants my power, and we need to know why. So letting her think she has the weapon she’s longed for in her pocket is the right move. She will confide in me.”
“Aya—”
“And that means you don’t have to do this again. Regain her trust as her Second, fine, but don’t… You don’t have to…”
Her frustration was rising as she fumbled over her words. Will didn’t have to ruin himself for her. Not this time. Not when Aya could use her position to their advantage. She could manipulate Gianna just as Gianna had manipulated her. She could use the tools Gianna had given her—the training Gianna had afforded her—and play Gianna’s loyal saint. And in doing so, she could get them answers about what, exactly, Gianna wanted with the Second Saint.
But Will wasn’t deterred. “This isn’t just about getting information, Aya!” he snapped.
“What the hells else is it about?”
“Protection!” The word rang long into the silence that followed. Will shook his head, something like pain twisting his features. “Dominic knew,” he rasped. “He knew what we are to each other, and he used me to get to you. I won’t let Gianna do the same. I will not be a weapon she gets to wield against you. If she knows what we are to each other, that’s exactly what I will become.”
“Once she sees my power, she will know not to trifle with me—”
“She suspected your power, and that didn’t stop her from using Tova.” The words were soft. Low. But they sliced through Aya’s argument like a knife. Her mouth snapped shut as she glared at Will, but he didn’t retreat. He met every bit of the anger in her stare with his own stubbornness.
“She kept your best friend in prison knowing she was innocent. She had Tova take the blame not only for your show of power in the market, but for those fucking weapon orders that she knew Tova had nothing to do with. Gods, for all we know, Gianna had them planted on her to set you up the same way Dominic did. Whatever protection you could afford me would be diminished the moment she realizes she can use me to motivate you into doing her bidding!”
Aya’s breath became unsteady as she shook her head. “Stop it.”
But Will took a step toward her anyway. “She will dangle me in front of you like a carrot just like Dominic did—”
“Stop it—”
“And I won’t have it,” he finished, the words coming through gritted teeth. He was in front of her now, his hands cupping her cheeks as he tilted her head up to his. His eyes scanned her face, reading every ounce of obstinance written there. “Why are you so against this?”
“Because…” Aya forced out. An aching sadness was clawing its way up her throat, thickening her voice as she fought against it.
Frustration flashed in Will’s eyes. “You know it’s not real. And I know you better than to think this is about petty jealousy or an aversion to keeping what we have between us. So why? Why would you expect me to not use everything in my arsenal to help us now?”
His frustration took on a sharper edge as she continued to bite back her words, his voice dropping low as he swore. “Dammit, Aya—”
“Because it is yet another sacrifice you are making!” The truth burst forth like water from a broken dam as Aya tore her face from his hold and took a step back. “And you have sacrificed enough!”
Yes, she could see the reasoning in it—both keeping their relationship a secret and Will using his charm to sidle back into Gianna’s attention. But he had donned that particular mask for her. For years, he had honed his abilities into something brutal and enchanting. He had fought his way to becoming Gianna’s Second, and he had led Gianna in a chase to keep her attention on him and away from Aya.
Despite Aya’s hatred. Despite the whispers that followed.
And he was mocked and hated for it. Feared, even. But never seen for who he truly was. And perhaps the realm would never see the Will she knew now, but she could spare him this one thing.
Gods, she had the power to spare him this one thing.
Slowly, Will closed the distance between them. His hands found her hips, his grip firm but gentle as he tugged her in to him. “This is no sacrifice,” he said quietly. Aya shook her head, but Will’s hold tightened. “It isn’t,” he insisted. “I don’t need the world to know the truth about me. As long as you do, that’s enough for me. That will always be enough for me.”
Aya blinked back the burning in her eyes. “What about your protection?” she breathed. “Who protects you?”
The corner of Will’s lips twitched as he grabbed her hand and placed it flush against the scar on his abdomen, where she’d healed him. “You do.”
Now this—this was familiar. They were mirrors of each other, after all. For every bit of stubbornness she threw at him, he threw it right back. But while before, it had led to an all-out brawl, usually by her hand, now Will’s forehead fell against hers as a shaky breath left him.
“Please don’t make me a danger to you,” he continued, his voice rough. “I won’t survive it.”
Despite the anger pounding through her, despite the terror and the frustration and the stubbornness that she wasn’t sure she’d ever part with, Aya closed her eyes and let herself sink into his hold.
She hated that beneath that tidal wave of emotion inside of her, she could see the logic in this, and not only because they were desperate for answers regarding Gianna’s motivations for her power. This was how Aya could protect him—by letting him make Gianna think there was no reason for Aya to care about his fate.
“Fine,” she whispered. “But only until we uncover what she plans to do with my power. Then we…we figure something else out.”
Will pressed his lips against hers, warm and smooth and steady, just like him. There was no heat beneath it, just a solid devotion that made her tight muscles loosen as she sank further into him, her hands sliding up his chest and locking behind his neck.
He pulled away once she was thoroughly breathless, a whispered murmur in the Old Language she couldn’t quite make out ghosting across her lips as his skimmed hers once more. “So it’s agreed then,” he said, his voice soft but clear this time. “When we return, we’ll both use our unique connections to Gianna to garner what we can. And as for us…we’ll present any change in our formerly hostile relationship as…us growing to be allies.” Aya couldn’t help but scoff at the word, but Will only grinned. “Surely you won’t struggle to act annoyed with me every once in a while.”
“I’m sure I can manage that,” Aya muttered.
His grin grew as he ducked his head, his nose brushing hers. “How will my ego manage your torment?”
Aya rolled her eyes. “You’ll survive.”
His lips coasted across her jaw and her head tilted back.
“On the contrary, Aya love,” he rumbled against her skin. “I’m sure you’ll be the death of me.”
Gods.
There was enough heat to his words that Aya tugged his head up, caring only that his lips met hers, their kiss filled with urgency. He devoured her, kissing her until her breath came in uneven pants and her hips unconsciously shifted against his.
“Have you changed your mind about the extent of our physical exertion?” he murmured against her mouth as he backed her toward the bed.
There was enough arrogance in the question that she pulled back, intent on making him suffer, but Will trailed his mouth down her neck, clearly determined.
Five days at sea, each of which they had spent training and distracting one another, learning the different parts of one another, if only to avoid the fear, the apprehension of what was to come. If only to escape the visions that lingered from their nightmares.
And yet…they still hadn’t crossed that final line together.
It wasn’t as if she’d ever cared to wait before. Aya certainly didn’t deny herself the pleasure of others’ company in bed.
But…
Not like this.
Not when terror choked their words and fear drove them from sleep. Not when their wounds had barely begun to scar and heal.
Aya bit her lip as she forced the obvious lust from her voice. “I believe it was you who mentioned you didn’t want to taint the experience with your injury.”
Will huffed a laugh against her throat, a groan of resignation following the sound.
“The death of me, I swear it.”
