A pain ripped through Silas when he realized how much his brother and sister-in-law were suffering. “It’ll get better. I’ll do whatever I can to help her.”
“You don’t live here.” Petras’s eyes glistened with tears. “You haven’t had to watch her slip further away every day. Or witness her mind slowly deteriorating. I’m afraid she’ll end up killing herself like our mother did.”
“Petras.” Silas pulled his brother into an embrace. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix things. Somehow.”
With a scoff, Petras took him by the shoulders and moved him back. “You will fix things? Do you have any idea how it makes me feel to have a younger brother who thinks he has to clean up after me?”
“I don’t mean it that way.”
“But that’s what you’re doing.” Petras squeezed his shoulders in a tight grip. “Are you going to defy me by returning the girl tomorrow?”
Silas swallowed hard. “By the Light, brother. Don’t ever doubt my loyalty.”
Petras regarded him sadly. “Are you returning her?”
“What choice do I have? It’s the only way to avoid war.”
“Since when is a general afraid of war?”
Silas snorted. “It’s not fear. It’s honesty. I’m facing the facts, Petras. Our country is dying from within.”
“Don’t say that!” Petras shoved him back.
“It’s true.” Silas took a deep breath. “Our first priority has to be saving ourselves. So I strongly urge you to end the war with Woodwyn.”
“No.”
“There is no point to it, Petras. Nothing is ever gained, and any loss of life becomes more of a disaster for our country. We should send an envoy to negotiate.”
“Absolutely not.” Petras shook his head. “The last time we sent an envoy, he never came back. The damned elves must have killed him.”
Silas sighed. That had been Dimitri’s uncle. “Lord Tolenko went over twenty years ago. It’s time for us to try again.”
Petras turned to gaze at the fire.
Silas cleared his throat. “When I return the princess tomorrow, I might get to see Sorcha.”
Petras glanced back. “Sorcha?”
“She grew up with a group of adopted sisters on the Isle of Moon. The elfin woman who came with the princess is one of the sisters. And the current queens of Eberon and Tourin are also sisters. So there’s a good chance Sorcha will be with Queen Luciana when I return the daughter.”
Petras remained quiet for a while as if lost in thought. “Then she’s had a good life?”
“I believe so.”
Petras frowned. “Don’t bring her back here. She needs to stay away from the curse.”
Silas sighed. If he and Gwennore could do away with the so-called curse, it might be safe for Sorcha to finally return to her real family.
Petras turned back to gaze into the fire. “All of our problems go back to the curse.”
Or people’s belief in the so-called curse, Silas thought.
“For more than four centuries, it affected only a few members of the royal family, but in the last two generations, it has become so much worse.” Petras sighed. “The entire population is suffering now.”
“We can’t be sure the curse is responsible for—”
“Of course it is! We lost two of our siblings and our mother. I’ve lost five children and I’m in danger of losing my wife. This damned curse must come to an end.” Petras slanted a wary look at him. “I found a way to get rid of it.”
“What?” Silas stepped closer. “How?”
Petras turned back toward the fire, and the light flickered over his face, causing eerie shadows. “It’s a secret.” A small smile lingered on his mouth. “After five hundred years, we will finally be free.”
“How?”
Petras’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “If I tell you, you must keep it secret.”
Silas leaned close. “You have my word.”
Petras lowered his voice to a whisper. “It’s Fafnir.”
“Faf—” Silas straightened with a jerk. “From the Ancient Ones? He was killed five hundred years ago.”
“He’s still alive,” Petras insisted. “You know the Ancient Ones could live for hundreds of years.”
“That may be true, but they’re all dead now.”
“Fafnir survived.” Petras’s eyes glittered in the flickering firelight. “And since he’s all alone, he wants to make peace with us. He said he would take away the curse. I only have to do what he tells me to.”
A sliver of apprehension crept down Silas’s spine. “What is he telling you to do?”
Petras looked back at the fire, his mouth shut.
Silas grew more tense. “How often do you talk to him?”
“Several times a week. I’ve been meeting him at the Sacred Well.”
“For how long?”
Petras shrugged. “Just over a year.”
“And now you tell me?” Silas frowned. “So he suddenly appeared about a year ago? After he was gone for five hundred years?”
“Are you doubting me?”
“Not you.” While Silas believed it was possible that his brother was talking to a dragon, he had to wonder if it was actually Fafnir. Any dragon could say he was an Ancient One and try to use that status to manipulate the king.
“Fafnir is real,” Petras grumbled. “He was injured in the final battle, so he went into hibernation for a long time to recover.”
Five hundred years? Silas drew in a deep breath. “I need to meet this Fafnir.”
Petras shook his head. “He doesn’t want anyone else to know about him. There would be some who would want to kill him. So not a word to anyone, understand? Fafnir is our best chance of getting rid of the curse.”
“What if the curse isn’t real? And he’s just using—”
“Stop it!” Petras gave him an incredulous look. “How can you even say that? How many loved ones do you have to lose before you accept the truth?”
Silas gritted his teeth. Just because the pain was real, it didn’t mean the curse was, too. “What exactly is this Fafnir telling you to do?”
“He wants to defeat Woodwyn.”
Silas scoffed. “Why? What would he gain from it? And how would that get rid of the so-called curse?”
“He also wants to take over
