Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)

A flock of birds flies overhead as I stop in front of Kassandra’s cottage the following afternoon. She opens the door on my third knock and ushers me inside. Averill smiles from her place in a chair near the lone window where she sews what looks to be a dark gray surcoat.

“Hello, Sol. Did you enjoy the festival?” she asks.

“I did.”

My skin warms as I recall the way Gabriel kissed me. He may not have initiated the moment. He responded, though. Oh, how he responded.

Averill smiles and continues sewing tiny stitches along the hem.

Kassandra cuts me a thick slice of bread and leads me into her bedroom, a cozy looking space large enough for her bed and a washing stand.

We sit on the edge of the mattress, where she speaks first.

“I’m so happy, Sol.” A wide grin spreads across Kassandra’s mouth and shines in her lively blue eyes.

“Your grandmother was right.” I tear off a piece of bread and take a bite.

“She’s always right.” A frown wrenches at Kassandra’s mouth. “I mean, about things like this. She rambles about many other things that haven’t made sense in summers.”

“Like Hector?” I ask, testing the waters.

The famed warrior seems more a myth than a reality.

Kassandra nods. “Yes, like Hector.”

“Your grandmother seems to like him.” Something else stands out from the festival, something I overheard Praxis say. “Are Praxis and Alden related?”

She smiles and nods. “Alden is Praxis’ father, and yes, they’re both related to Luc.”

“But Luc and Praxis aren’t brothers?” If only I had learned more about Roland’s family before I came here.

“No.” Kassandra shoves curls from her cheeks. “Cenric is Praxis’ brother.”

“Oh.” Inwardly, I frown as I think of the long-haired warrior. “Where is Luc and Leah’s family?”

Sadness stretches across Kassandra’s features, thinning the lines near her mouth as she frowns. “Their mother died giving birth to Leah. Their father…” Kassandra exhales. “He was murdered over ten summers ago.”

Empathy wells in my chest. Empathy for Luc and Leah.

“There used to be a lot more of them. Before…” Kassandra stares down at her hands and shakes her head.

“Before?”

Sadness glints in her eyes before she glances up. “Before the other tribes started murdering Roland’s family.”

My chest tightens at the reality of her words. At my reality. I’m here to do the same.

The door opens, and Everly steps into the tiny room wearing a black surcoat with the ever-present red circle. I swallow and try to not see that other woman lying broken in the streets.

“I finished your necklace, Kass,” Everly says.

Kassandra stands and accepts the gift. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”

A frown pinches at Everly’s mouth as Kassandra slips the thin silver chain over her head and allows it to settle against her surcoat.

“Is something amiss?” Kassandra asks after several moments.

Everly pushes the door shut and turns to face Kassandra. “Call off the wedding to Luc.”

An instant scowl curls Kassandra’s mouth down. “I will not.”

Everly lets out a quick breath and reaches for Kassandra’s hand. “You cannot marry him. People like us don’t marry people like him.”

“I’m in love with him.” Kassandra lifts her chin and clenches her fingers together.

Inwardly, I smile at Kassandra’s determination to wed despite her sister’s misgivings.

“Love doesn’t matter.” Everly stabs her hand toward the door and speaks in an embittered tone. “Those people will never allow an outsider to marry someone below their class. Go to Luc and tell him you cannot marry him.”

The crowd returns, their voices hissing in my ears. “Stone her. Stone her.”

I blink, trying to make it stop. Trying to not see the darkness inside them. They stoned a woman simply because she was different.

Kassandra squeezes her sister’s hand and releases. “Luc and I will change the prejudices against outsiders.”

A scoff escapes Everly as she shakes her head. “You will change nothing.”

“I wish you’d try to understand.” Desperation echoes from Kassandra’s words. Desperation for her sister to believe her.

“I understand. You admire him. You have always admired him. But it doesn’t change what we are.”

Everything in me wants to interject for Kassandra, but I cannot pretend to understand their ways, their culture, their traditions. Maybe Everly is right, and she only wants to protect her sister.

“I will marry him, Evie.” Determination grips Kassandra’s tone as she continues. “And you will stand proudly next to me because you care for me.”

Tears glisten in Everly’s eyes before she rubs them away with her sleeve. “You know I will.”

Our conversation shifts after that. They talk about what kind of dress Kassandra wants to wear, and who will do the sewing.

Everly’s words stay with me even after I journey home, wash, and change for bed.

As I lie on the mattress next to Gabriel, I think about what Everly said, and I think about those red circles.

Maybe Everly was right. Maybe being an outsider will prevent Kassandra from being happy with Luc.

Moonlight glistens through the window before I roll to my side and speak to Gabriel. “Will Luc suffer backlash for marrying Kassandra?”

Gabriel shifts next to me. “Why?”

“Earlier today, Everly was concerned about Kassandra’s decision to wed Luc.”

“It’s not done,” Gabriel says in a plain voice. “People like Luc don’t marry outsiders.”

“Then why did he ask her?”

Shadows play across Gabriel’s face as he settles back against his pillow and stares up at the ceiling. “They have always been friends, and Luc doesn’t care about the prejudices against outsiders. He never has.”

“I see. Will she suffer backlash?”

“She could.”

Everything in me wants to raise a fist to the high gods and protest the unfair world we live in. It shouldn’t be this way. Everyone should be equal.

I clench my fingers around my bedcovers. “Couldn’t Luc’s father—Roland—” the words sour against my lips, but I force myself to continue, “—change the rules?”

“No.”

The immediacy of Gabriel’s reply strikes at my chest. Does Gabriel not care about the way his people treat outsiders?

“Why not?” The material bends beneath my fingers as I tighten my grip. “He’s your leader.”

“You cannot snap your fingers and make people change their prejudices.” No emotions border his words, no bricks to build a foundation upon. How can I understand him if he offers me no insight into his thoughts? His world? His beliefs?

What happened to the man who seemed to care the day before?

“Yes, but your leaders could guide by example. Remove their red circles. Accept them fully into your culture.”

“You want the laws and rules to bend to your way of thinking.”

“I want people to stop shunning good people simply because of their linage,” I say in a rush of frustration.

“Kassandra’s father was a Kyanite.” Even though Gabriel speaks in an even voice, I detect threads of bitterness. It builds, echoing his words like a never-ending tune. Kassandra’s father was a Kyanite. Kassandra’s father was a Kyanite.

Maybe that’s why we get along. Part of her is like me. Kyanite. Enemy to the Bloodstone. Enemy to the darkness.

Light cannot abide darkness.

At least, that’s what Father used to say. I never really understood what he meant.

I rise on my elbow to meet Gabriel’s gaze. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I didn’t know I needed to.”

“Kassandra’s father is a Kyanite? Where is he now?”

Gabriel shrugs. “Dead for all I know or care.”

I shove my hand through my hair and sigh. “Can you not address the prejudices against outsiders in the next council meeting?”

“I cannot.”

“Gabriel.”

“Things have been done this way for centuries. Don’t shake the trees, Kyanite. You may not like what falls out of them,” he says, his tone steady, and heartbreaking at the same time.

There it is—proof he simply doesn’t care.

He’s the only pigheaded tree I want to shake. He sits on the council. He could affect change. Except, he doesn’t care to.

“I thought you wanted to see change. What happened?”

“An infected tree is incapable of healing its branches,” he says in a flat voice. “It’s futile to try to mend something that refuses to be mended.”

I hiss through my teeth and resist the strong urge to throttle him. “So, you’re going to just let people keep hurting others?”

“No. I am going to go to sleep.”

“Gabriel!”

“Kyanite!” He rises enough to pull me against him, to feel his heat burning through my thin nightdress. Tingles raise goosebumps along my skin as I try to not think, to not feel drawn to the stubborn man lying next to me.

“Sol,” I say, my voice low, but loud enough for him to hear me.

There’s something I must know. “Do you care enough to protect Kassandra? Would you defend her?”

“I will protect, Kassandra.”

If he’s not going to talk to the council, how does he intend to keep Kassandra safe?

“How?”

“By leaving this damn city,” he says bitterly. Revealingly.

My brow rises. “You hate Astarobane?”

“It is his city,” Gabriel says, his voice lined with resentment.

“Whose city?”

When Gabriel doesn’t reply, I decide to shift the subject back to my friend. “When will we leave Astarobane?”

“As soon as I can convince Luc and the others to leave.”

I’ll have to be content with that. After all, I didn’t come here to change their traditions. Olah knows, I don’t agree with all of the Kyanite’s traditions either.

If things were different, and I planned to stay, I’d try to alter this for Kassandra. I would rip those red circles away with my bare hands.

But I’m not here to stay.