Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)

1 DAY EARLIER

Forty-nine tankards filled to the brim. That’s precisely how many I served to the men waiting impatiently in Luther’s Alehouse. With every pass across the sticky floor, my arms ache a little more. I ignore it and try to keep a smile pasted to my face. It’s what they expect, a friendly face, a welcoming face.

That’s what Luther, the owner of the alehouse, always says. Smile at them, Sol, or they will not stay for more than one ale.

Katya, a woman from the Malachite tribe, scurries next to me, working a little faster, a little better. She keeps her pale blonde hair pinned at the nape of her neck, and she wears a surcoat tight enough to enhance all her attributes. It shows off her slim waist. Her wide hips. Her large bosom. If I had breasts like hers, I wouldn’t need to scrape for every coin I get. She simply waltzes around the room and receives more gold than I do.

Or maybe it’s the ocean in her eyes. If mine were blue, like hers, instead of brown, these men would bend to my will the way they bend to hers. If allowed, they’d probably throw gold at her feet.

Not that I need men to bend to my will. I just need their coin.

I’m a mere shadow compared to her. I’m shorter, have black hair, and my skin is nearly as pale as the plaster on the walls.

“What can I do ye for?” Katya asks the newest patron to enter the alehouse. The man sits alone in a corner.

Candlelight skims his features as he shakes his head. “Ale only.”

Inwardly, I smile at his refusal. Few men deny Katya when she offers more than liquor. The hem of her elaborate surcoat trails the ground as she returns to where I stand near the front of the room. She probably spent two month’s wages buying the ridiculous garment. Men don’t care about her clothes. They care what she barely conceals beneath them.

“Take ale to the man in the corner,” she says. “He obviously doesn’t know a beautiful woman when he sees one.”

I take the tankard from her. “All right. But I’m not offering him more.”

Those haughty blue eyes shift over me, lingering on my surcoat with its high bodice and loose waist. My breasts easily fill out the bodice, but they’re nothing compared to Katya’s. The rest of my shape is loss by the voluminous fabric.

“I never thought ye would.”

She knows I’m not here to entice men.

When I had first entered the establishment, I told Luther I only wanted enough coin to continue my journey to the foothills beyond this town.

I steal a glance at the window, looking at the promise of the mountains in the distance. The Bloodstone live there. Soon, I’ll leave this alehouse. I’ll journey to those mountains, and I’ll carry out my destiny.

Tomorrow is my birthday, a time of celebration for most people. I only want it to be a day that will lead me closer to the Bloodstone people.

I tighten my grip on the stoneware, approach the stranger, and plop the tankard near his hands. “It’s one gold coin.”

Piercing green eyes look up, holding on me. My breath catches in my throat. He’s Bloodstone. He may wear a green, unmarked surcoat, but he has their serpent emblem on his bracers.

He glances over my blue surcoat with the Kyanite coat of arms. In the candlelight, the gold threads on the fabric nearly glow. It makes the mother tree seem more sacred.

When I started working here, Luther warned me to remove all traces of being Kyanite. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

With his boot, the stranger pushes the chair across from him out. “Sit.”

“That would be two gold pieces.” Should I have said three? I still need more coin to continue my journey.

He reaches into his cloak, pulls free a leather bag, and lowers it to the table. The contents clink against the wooden surface. “You may have all of my coin.”

My brow rises. “What is your price for such a generous offering?”

Don’t say me.

Men have propositioned me enough working here to worry that’s what this stranger wants.

“Conversation,” he says, his voice rising over the hum of the people sitting at the nearby tables.

I slide into the seat and settle my elbows against the table. “Are you so lonely, you feel compelled to give away all your coin for a conversation?”

“I’m not lonely.” He lifts his tankard and takes a slow drink before lowering it back to the table. “I’m curious why a Kyanite is so far from home.”

“Oh.” Unconsciously, my fingers trace the gold tree sewn into my surcoat. “I am working.”

His brow lifts as he allows his gaze to take in the alehouse. “Here?”

It takes everything in me to not follow his stare around the tavern. I know how small it is. How dank. You need only to stand and take forty steps to walk from one end of the room to the other. The smallness didn’t deter Luther from cramming tables and chairs into every available space.

“Yes. Here,” I say after several moments.

The stranger’s focus shifts to the window, much like mine had done earlier. “Beyond this town lies the foothills of the Bloodstone mountains.” His haunted eyes shift back to me. “It doesn’t welcome Kyanites.”

My hand trembles as I lower it back to the table. He’s right. I knew it when I set out on this course. It didn’t sway me. Maybe it should have.

“I left Kyanite land four summers ago to explore all the Tarrobane territory. Those mountains, and the people who live in them, are just another tribe to me.” I allow a quick pass over his armor. “You are just another Tarrobane barbarian.”

Please forgive my lies, Olah.

Mirth skips behind the man’s gaze. “I see.” He lifts his tankard and takes another drink. “So, the fact I’m Bloodstone doesn’t bother you?”

“Shall I tell you a secret?” I lean closer, anticipating his answer. He nods. “I find you fascinating. Your people, that is. You live in obscurity. That’s difficult to do in Tarrobane.” Warmth scours my throat at the bold lie, the terrible lie, the lie that scalds my insides. There’s nothing fascinating about the Bloodstone.

Something in me is unwilling to admit the trembling I felt in my bones the moment I knew he was Bloodstone. If I act brave, he won’t see the nerves clattering in my throat.

Again, he settles his gaze on the tree emblem. “Do you heal with magic?”

My breath catches. It’s a simple question, and one I get asked often enough. I always reply with the same fib.

“Yes.”

A Kyanite who cannot heal is as useless as a cart with no wheels. At least, that’s what the head mistress at the apothecary used to say.

You are useless, Sol.

You have no wheels.

No magic.

No gifts.

I blink, but her voice remains a bitter reminder in my ears.

Katya appears at my left with a tray overburdened with tankards and gives me a pointed look.

I stand, smooth my surcoat, and address the man. “Thank you for the conversation.”

The man pushes the leather bag toward me. “Take the coins.”

I hesitate as indecision ripples through me. If I take the coin, I would be one step closer to my Fate. If I don’t, I wouldn’t be beholding to this Bloodstone man.

With her free hand, Katya yanks up the bag and shoves it against me. “Take it.” I barely place it into the leather satchel tied to the belt at my waist before she thrusts the tray into my arms. “People are waiting to be served.”

Red singes my ears as I distribute the ale. People had witnessed Katya chastising me.

The stranger remains at the table, his tankard half full. He doesn’t speak to anyone else, and he doesn’t leave until nightfall settles over the modest town.

When the tavern empties, I sit in a corner and sip on a tall tankard of ale Katya gave me. As I drink the bitter liquid, I mull over everything that led me to this town. I gave the mercenary army three summers. Hopefully, it was enough training.

“Sol,” Luther calls out as he waves a hand, trying to get my attention. “You can go.”

I turn as blots blur my vision, and the noises dim to an indiscernible pitch. “Go?”

He waves his hand again. “Yes. It’s closing time.”

“Time,” I say into my ale and take another sip. “I like time.”

“I’ll help her.” Katya crosses the room to where I slouch.

Gratitude strums through me as I stand and allow her to take my arm. I drank too much again. Or did I? I try to glance back at the tankard, to see how much I left inside the stoneware.

Katya jerks me away, guiding me toward the back of the alehouse and to a set of stairs leading to the lower level. Luther allows us to rent the rooms below for a reasonable price.

“Sol.” She shakes me, and the dots multiply, swarming my vision like a parade of sparkling diamonds. I blink, but they keep building and building.

“I’ll take her,” a familiar voice says.

The stranger?

“Wait,” Katya says, as she tugs at the satchel at my waist.

“Leave it,” the man says, his voice sharp.

“But you prom—”

“—I said, leave it.”

She draws up next to me, her body stiffening. “There’s no need to get angry. You can have her and the coin.”

“The gold is hers.”

Katya scoffs and releases me. “As if I would trust the word of a Bloodstone.”

“You did,” he says bluntly.

I sway, searching for something solid to lean against. Or a pillow. Yes. A pillow would be fantastic.

The man catches me against his firm body. “Leave us,” he says, his tone commanding. Frigid.

I even think about obeying.

Katya’s footsteps scurry away, leaving me with this man. This stranger. This Bloodstone barbarian. I squint my eyes, trying to make out his features in the dimness. He remains a silhouette of shadows.

“Can you walk?” he asks, his voice brusque.

I nod and attempt one step before my knees buckle. He catches me against him.

“You cannot.” Without another word, he picks me up and hauls me over his shoulder.

Everything in me shrieks with warning, but all I manage is a strangled scream before blackness reaches in and steals what’s left of my light.