Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)

Everything that happened the day before weighs heavily as I work on my garden, pulling weeds and checking on the growth of the seedlings. Soon, they’ll be thriving plants.

Maybe I can use them to offer healing services. Maybe people will open up more to me and share the information that I need.

When I move to the last row, Kassandra approaches. I glance up, taking in her pale face and the trembling fingers she clutches against her soiled surcoat. Rotten tomatoes and cabbage mar the fabric and stain her bruised cheeks.

Worry pounds against my chest as I sweep my gaze over her. “What happened?”

She stops in front of me and rubs a shaky hand against her ruined clothes. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” I step closer to her and take in her misty eyes. “Did someone throw spoiled food at you?”

Her bottom lip trembles as she nods. My attention whips to the sandstone streets beyond my cottage. If I were in Kyanite land, I wouldn’t hesitate to confront the people who did this.

I grab her hand. “Come with me.”

She allows me to guide her inside my cottage and to the washing stand. I add herbs to the water and wet a cloth. She remains silent as I clean her face, neck, and arms.

“Nobody should have done this to you,” I say, my voice raw and filled with the disgust I cannot hide.

“I’m all right, Sol.” Assurance immerses Kassandra’s tone, assurance for me when she is the injured one.

I find her a clean surcoat in my room and hand it to her. She says words of gratitude and steps behind a screen to change.

My heart thrums in my ears as I grab the basin and dump the dirty water. How dare people do that to her? Criminals deserve food thrown at them. Not innocent women. Not someone as kind and caring as Kassandra.

I ball my fingers into tight fists and try to calm my breathing. Right now, she needs a friend. Not someone angry and vengeful.

She steps back into the main room and runs her fingers down the front of her borrowed surcoat. It fits her almost as perfectly as it fits me.

“Thank you, Sol.”

She smiles, and a corner of my heart lightens at her bravery, her ability to rise above what just happened to her. Many women would be frantic and sobbing.

“Of course.” I walk to the fire, where I prepared venison stew earlier. “Would you like something to eat?”

Her brown hair brushes against her shoulders as she shakes her head. “I need to get back. Mother will be worried. And Evie.”

Kassandra’s conversation with Everly hums in my ears as I shift back to face Kassandra. It would be pointless to bring their conversation up now. Pointless to mention the repercussion of marrying someone who isn’t an outsider.

Instead of voicing my concerns, I offer to walk her home. She accepts, and I accompany her to her tiny cottage tucked away from most of the city. Nobody bothers us on the way there, or on my journey back, yet the weight of what happened to her doesn’t leave me.

I think about it so much that when I lie beside Gabriel that night, I cannot keep silent. “Did you know someone threw rotten food at Kassandra today?”

“What?” he asks, his voice rising above my pulse hammering in my ears.

“She came to me today after someone threw food at her. Did you know? Does Luc know?”

Gabriel rotates to his back. “I didn’t.”

I ball my fingers into fists and wince at the throbbing in my arm. My injury still hurts. “Surely, that’s not acceptable. After all, she’s to marry the nephew of your leader.”

“It’s not acceptable.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I cannot act, but Gabriel can.

“What would you like me to do?” No mockery lingers from Gabriel’s words. Only sincerity.

In one fluid motion, I roll to my side and prop myself up on my elbow to get a better look at him. “Kill them!”

His brow rises. “You want me to murder someone because they threw food at Kassandra?”

Of course, I don’t actually want him to murder people for throwing food.

“It was rotten,” I say through my teeth. “And it upset her.”

“You…” He brushes his fingers against my jaw. Slowly. Tenderly. “…are full of spite and vengeance.”

“I don’t actually wish them dead.” I grab his hand, holding it against my cheek. Tingles spread through me at the gentle contact. “I just want you to make an example out of them.”

“How would you like me to do that?” He pulls away and rotates to his back.

I roll my eyes. “Must I think of everything?”

“If I allowed you to think of everything, I would have to murder an unnamed offender,” he says dryly.

“I said I don’t want you to kill them.”

“I know.” Sarcasm lines his tone, as if he doesn’t believe me.

“Tie them up.” I punctuate each word with a jerk of my hand. “Parade them through the city. Then, lock them in the pillory for the night.” In a pillory, they would be forced to remain standing. Their arms would be shoved into wooden slats. They wouldn’t be able to move. Wouldn’t be able to protest when people walked past and threw insults their way.

“It shall be done,” Gabriel says, his tone sincere and forthright.

That easily?

Is he jesting with me?

I inch back a fraction and study his face. Genuineness shines in his eyes. Determination deepens the lines across his forehead.

“Truly?”

“Yes,” he says with a nod. “I will look for the people responsible, then I will carry out your wish.”

Can he do that?

“They will let you?”

A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Let?”

“Will you have to ask Alden for permission?”

“Why are you full of so many questions?” Gabriel asks, his voice a tease, a reminder that I’m not supposed to be so revealing.

A sigh escapes me as I sink back against my pillow and stare up at the ceiling. “Why are you so evasive all the time?”

He doesn’t answer. Not that I believed he would.

“Gabriel.” I shift closer and brush my fingers against his arm, the one covered from shoulder to wrist in a tattoo. “Will we leave Astarobane soon?”

A side of me longs for it, longs to grab Kassandra and never look back. The other side would mourn the garden I have tended so faithfully. But I would leave a thousand gardens behind if it meant protecting Kassandra and getting away from this horrid place.

“I haven’t convinced Luc or the rest of the leaders,” Gabriel says after a moment.

“Why?” Lightly, I trace one of the ancient words etched into Gabriel’s skin, marveling at the details.

“There are other people to consider. We cannot just leave them behind.”

“Who can’t you leave behind?” I continue touching him, feeling those lines. Those words. Those symbols.

He grabs me with his left hand, stopping my movements. “Praxis, for one. His family is here. And they are very attached to this place.”

“Why do you have this?” I pull away from him and allow my knuckles to skim over the tattoo.

He shrugs, grabs my hand for a second time, and removes it from his arm.

Embarrassment floods my cheeks. “Am I not allowed to touch you? I didn’t make the same vow you did.”

“I’m well aware.” He rolls away from me, presenting his back. Shutting me out.

“Gabriel.” Sadness grips my chest at his rejection.

He doesn’t speak.

Again, I shift to stare up at the ceiling. He’s as cold as a statue. As unfeeling as a pile of ash.

“Must you be so calloused?” The question comes out small. Fragile. “Do you hate me? Is that why you push me away?”

“I don’t…” He exhales and starts over. “It is better if you don’t touch me.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t been with a woman in months,” he says, his voice almost gruff.

“Oh.”

Then, my touch does affect him.

The knowledge burrows into my heart. I smile at him, even though he has his back turned. I reach for my blanket and jerk it to my chin as another smile widens my mouth.

Maybe he feels something too, and I am hard to resist.