Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)

Dread weighs heavy against my limbs as Gabriel encourages me from the cottage the following morning. People walk toward the center of the city, where a massive crowd gathers before a big open square.

Five men dressed in blue surcoats with a gold tree emblem stand in the center with their hands tied behind their backs. I don’t know the Kyanites, yet it doesn’t stop my skin from burning or my throat from clenching.

Everything in me wants to ask. Who sent you? What is your purpose? The words stay as frozen as the man standing beside me. I steal a sideway glance, noticing Gabriel’s firm jaw, his tight lips, his eyes locked on the men who tried infiltrating Astarobane.

I spot Malachi among the Bloodstone people. A young blonde woman stands beside him, her hand intertwined in his. I look away and try to ignore the tightening in my belly.

He was my first kiss.

Not hers!

I mentally shake my head. She can have Malachi. He’s not part of my path anymore.

Ten men dressed in black Bloodstone surcoats and holding bows face the condemned men. My throat clenches even more as Alden walks through the crowd and stops in front of the square. He raises his hand, and an eerie silence falls over the people.

“Last night these five Kyanites stole into our city and tried to infiltrate our homes,” he says, his words like a dagger to my heart. “We will never tolerate such violence against our people. May Olah forgive them. For we do not.”

At his command, the archers raise their bows and release their arrows. Each one strikes at the hearts of the men condemned to die. As they slump to the ground, my soul slumps with them.

Sunlight staggers over the square as the crowd turns away—back to their cottages, their duties, their lives.

I follow Gabriel. My lips too numb to speak. My limbs too shaky to run. My throat too painful to swallow. Even though I knew coming here wouldn’t be easy, I was never prepared to watch Kyanites be executed.

Every part of me braces for Gabriel’s scorn, his mockery. He offers nothing as we draw to a stop outside our cottage. I brush my fingers against my surcoat, to where my kyanite necklace hides behind the fabric. It provides no warmth. No solace. It’s as useless as the dust swirling in the distance.

Several moments pass before he speaks. “I’ll see you this evening.”

I swallow through the ash in my throat and lift my gaze to his. “Where are you going?”

“To train.” He points his chin toward the front door. “Meanwhile, you can settle.”

“Settle?” The urge to scoff overwhelms me. I stifle it and instead speak in a plain voice. “I have nothing to settle.”

“You can arrange things how you wish.”

Maybe he’s trying to be compassionate. Maybe I would even care if I weren’t trapped inside that square, watching those arrows, seeing those dying eyes.

“What did they…” I clutch my fingers together and draw deep within me, pushing away those horrifying memories. “What did they want?”

“Who?”

“Gabriel, please. I just watched Kyanites being executed. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m asking.”

Several breaths pass during which he doesn’t speak. I even think he might not. Then, he finally finds his voice. “They were trying to infiltrate the palace. So, I surmise they want what most Kyanites want. To remove our chieftain’s head.”

My lungs burn, and my skin tingles as I widen my eyes in feigned surprise. “Why? I don’t understand?”

“Don’t you?” he asks, showing the same bitterness as the night before. “In the last thirty summers, we have lost four tribal leaders. And in the past two summers, we have stopped many assassination attempts.”

I clench my fingers tighter and adopt an even tone. “I am a simple healer, Gabriel. I don’t know everything that happens between our people.”

Sunlight weaves around his face and lightens his eyes as he studies me. “I don’t believe you.” A flock of geese flies overhead as Gabriel turns away. “I’ll see you tonight.”

No words pass my lips as he walks back down the sandstone streets. Though, they burn my tongue. Everything I cannot say. Their weight follows me as I step into the cottage.

I consider Gabriel’s words, his admittance that four tribal leaders have died in the last thirty summers. Perhaps if his people weren’t so evil.

Roland and his men plundered many Kyanite villages ten summers ago. Blood ran like a river through the streets. Fires destroyed every building. The people who survived the terror grew thick callouses on their heart and hatred in their bellies.

I step into the stone cottage and exhale. It looks the same as it did the night before. Sparse. Inhospitable. It doesn’t even look lived in. There are no personal items. Nothing that hints that Gabriel lived here before.

Maybe he didn’t.

As I move into the bedchamber, I think about those five Kyanite men. They met with their end in a horrifying manner. Maybe their deaths should deter me. Maybe it would if I feared journeying to the afterlife.

I prepare tea and think of my passage to success. It’s clear that being a Kyanite among the Bloodstone won’t benefit me. There’s only one way I succeed—by diving so deep into their world I look like them. Act like them. Talk like them.

I must shed my Kyanite ways and become Bloodstone.