Free A Curse Unbroken by Cecy Robson Page A

follow her, that urge to flee poked at me. I was afraid to be alone with her. My thoughts, though, didn’t make sense. Out of everyone, why would I be afraid of Makawee?
    Because she was friends with Anara, my voice insisted.
    Yes, but he betrayed her, too, I added.
    Makawee paused at the entrance to the corridor that led to her office, watching me as I debated with myself.
    The small smile she usually gave me was noticeably absent, while her concern was more than obvious. “Is something troubling you, Celia?”
    “Um. No.” Although that’s what I claimed, I remained cemented in place.

    “If you have another appointment, child, I’m certain we can speak at another time,” she suggested.
    “No.” I pushed forward. “Now’s good.”
    My speech was off, and everything felt forced. If Makawee noticed, she failed to show it. Her waist-length white hair drifted behind her while she walked, despite the lack of haste in her step. Like always, she wore an earth-tone dress, no patterns, no frills. This dress didn’t even have buttons. It was a simple brown pullover with short sleeves.
    Her bare feet passed silently over the dark wood. For someone who rarely wore shoes, her feet always seemed perfectly clean.
    Although I’d never stepped into Makawee’s office, it was exactly as I’d imagined it. Simple tones of cream lightened the otherwise dark wood, and Native American tapestries and throws of deep reds added color to the walls and furnishings.
    “Please make yourself comfortable,” she said, motioning to the worn leather couch. She turned away from me as she stepped into a small kitchenette.
    I was glad she wasn’t watching me. I had to force myself to sit, the urge to race away from her continuing to needle me.
    She poured hot water from a teapot into an antique ceramic pitcher. “May I make you some tea?” she asked.
    No. She means to poison you.
    My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe where my thoughts had wandered. My tigress typically ruled my instincts, but as I reached to stroke her, I sensed her pulling away from my caress. She didn’t appear to know me. Or welcome me.

    What the hell?
    “Celia, would you like some tea?” Makawee repeated.
    “Y-yes. Thank you,” I managed.
    Makawee used a small wooden tray painted with flowers to carry the pitcher, ceramic mugs, and tea supplies. She placed it on an old oak table in front of me, using care not to spill the contents. The pitcher and mugs appeared to have come from different sets, but they were pretty and complemented one another beautifully.
    Makawee filled two small gold balls with loose tea, placed them in the cups, and added hot water. “How is the pain from your injuries?” she asked.
    “Fine.” She raised her eyebrows slightly, enough to let me know she didn’t completely believe me. “It comes in spasms,” I admitted. “But for the most part it’s manageable and doesn’t impede me in any way.”
    Makawee nodded, seemingly satisfied with my more honest response. “Forgive me for asking, but has your cycle returned?”
    Her question caught me off guard. But I answered in spite of the emotions it stirred. “No.” My cycle had always been irregular, but after how Anara had butchered me, it hadn’t returned. Makawee was probably hoping I could still become pregnant.
    But you can’t.
    You’re barren.
    And it’s her fault.
    My thoughts betrayed me, hurting me more than anything Makawee could have asked. Yet my response was uncalled for—and I couldn’t stop it. I leaned back, patting my belly and smiling as I spoke. “Sorry, no future saviors of mankind growing in here,” I said simply.

    Then I took a sip of my tea!
    Makawee’s eyes widened in time with mine.
    I thought I was going crazy. And maybe she did, too, but instead of calling for help or trying to restrain me, the sadness dulling her dark eyes seemed to engulf the room. “The fault is ours alone, Celia,” she said quietly. “Martin and I were never blind to what you