Cursed by Fire by Jacquelyn Frank Page A

Grannish was poisoning her baby brother in an effort to make certain she was the only heir? What if the illnesses and accidents that had takenthe lives of her older siblings had not been accidents? Jorry had been heir first and promised from birth to a beautiful and sweet-natured young woman named Glenna. But Jorry had died while swimming, a strong swimmer somehow drowning in a shallow pool. It was believed he had hit his head on a rock, rendering him unconscious in the water. But what if the strike on his head had been deliberate?
    And then Kyna, who became heir after Jorry had died. A strong boy suddenly stricken with illness, taken from the world in less than two days in a vicious, suffering form of death.
    Leaving her as the next heir. The first female in line for the throne. The first access to grand available to Grannish. But that did not explain her younger sisters’ deaths by plague. If she so repulsed him, he could easily have had her murdered as well and taken one of her younger sisters to bride. Indeed Arra had been lauded as a great beauty and had been much sought after in spite of her young age. But that beauty had withered and died.
    Or maybe Grannish had planned on Selinda’s death but had been waiting until it would not look so obvious on the heels of Kyna’s death … only the plague had taken her sisters naturally, thwarting that possibility.
    She would never know the truth unless somehow she got him to confess it to her. Even so, he was perverse enough to admit to it freely, then watch her flail about trying to get her father to listen to her, all the while stroking her father into believing her emotional or even mad. Gods above, perhaps that was his eventual goal. To make everyone think her mad. Selinda shuddered at the thought, knowing that rich or poor, lowborn or highborn, those with madness found true equality in treatment, and it was not a pretty life to lead. Indeed she would wish herself penniless and worse disfiguredbefore she would wish herself to be proved mad. The asylum … it was outside of the city walls, the belief being that madness was contagious. Outside the walls, the asylum was largely undefended. The Redoe sacked it regularly, doing what they willed with the inhabitants and their keepers. And she had heard stories … such horrible stories …
    Her thoughts had brought her breathing to panicked levels, her fists clenching so hard that her nails were digging into the soft flesh of her palms. She licked the sweat off her upper lip and stared all the harder out the window. Soon. He would come back soon. He
must
come back.
    Oh my beloved goddess, please let him come back. I ask you for so little, and even this is in relation to the prayers I most frequently send up to you. He is your instrument to aid me. I know it. I see it! I swear to you I will not let this gift go to waste. I will—
    Her prayer froze in her head as a body appeared in the light of the bailey. He walked in, his gait off center and almost … staggering. Drunk, she thought bitterly. He had taken some of his gold and gone off to carouse. She should not be shocked; indeed she was not shocked. She knew of men and their fallibility. But it made no difference to her. He had earned his celebrations tonight. She would have thrown a party for him herself had she been able to.
    Selinda hastened to her feet, stumbling when she realized her legs had cramped up from sitting so long in one position. She shrugged off her shawl, bent to look quickly into a mirror, and made certain to arrange her hair so it fell over the left side of her face. Then, feet bare upon the cold stone, she flew out of her rooms and down the back stairwells. She was cautious enough not to be seen, knowing Grannish had spies around every corner, but she had to risk this … or the opportunitywould be lost. He might leave if she didn’t do something, and she desperately wanted … no,
needed
him to stay.
    She headed through the back corridors