Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)

The flap closes behind me, barricading me from the sun. I exhale and pace the small space between the bed and the wall. No other furniture sits in the tiny tent. So, I use the bed as my starting point. Then, I march to the wall. I pace back and forth until my hands shake. Bed. Wall. Bed. Wall.

When I met Gabriel, I knew he would be a problem. Now, here he is—very much a problem.

I’m going to kill him.

The thought burrows so deep within me, I even plan the execution. First, I’ll steal his broad sword, then I’ll ram it through his eyes, those unnaturally, beautiful blue eyes of his. I have met many people in my twenty summers, but I have never seen anyone with the same color as his. They’re blue on the outside and silver near the center.

Of course, after I finish planning everything and go through the scenario, I reject the idea. Murdering Gabriel would serve me no purpose. Though, it would give me keen pleasure to kill a Bloodstone warrior, to avenge Mother and all those who died with her.

The truth of why I’m here stops me. Only one man’s death will give Mother peace in the afterlife. Roland.

Maybe if Gabriel hadn’t bruised my pride, I wouldn’t have thought about killing him. I raise my fingers to my throat where he grabbed me. My stomach quaked at his touch. There’s no way I would have enjoyed him bedding me. It was a foolish decision—offering myself to him.

For what seems like the hundredth time, my gaze lifts to the tent flap. This isn’t how I expected to spend my fourth night here—alone, abandoned, left to dwell on all the things the Bloodstone people must say about me, a Kyanite.

Determination strengthens my resolve as I stiffen my shoulders. I will succeed. They will not send me away.

This is my mission, just like it is the moon’s mission to always chase the sun. Though, I will succeed where the moon cannot.

I will catch my quarry!

Four days and four nights. That’s how long I spend alone. Kassandra brings me food and water. Gabriel probably forbade her from bringing me wine. She even returned my leather bag. Surprisingly, all the contents were still there, even the gold coins Luc gave me.

The entire time I wait for the council’s decision, I only allow positive thoughts. Everything will go as planned. The Bloodstone council will accept me and allow me to stay.

On the fifth morning, the tent flap lifts, and Kassandra beckons me to follow her. I gather my leather satchel and trail the young woman outside.

Sunlight breaks through the clouds and quivers over the center of the camp where the four Malachite men huddle together in chains. Bloodstone warriors loom around them in a wide circle. Luc, Gabriel, and three other men stand at the front of the group.

I don’t need anyone to tell me why we’re here. This is an execution. I have heard about the Bloodstone and their method of choice for killing those who offend them. They always use bows.

My stomach clenches, and ice slips down the back of my neck. Maybe the four Malachites aren’t the only ones the Bloodstones intend to murder.

No!

The clenching increases, squeezing around my stomach, my chest, my throat.

I’m not next.

I will succeed.

Luc raises his hand, and the men fall silent. “Who has a grievance with these Malachites?”

A young Bloodstone warrior with long black hair and a thick bandage around his neck steps forward. “I do.”

“Then you will take the lives of these four men, and you’ll obtain the vengeance you’re owed.”

The Malachites cry out, pleading for mercy.

Luc doesn’t flinch, nor does he sway from his course as he nods at the long-haired warrior and speaks again. “May Olah forgive them. For we do not.”

My heart drops the moment the Bloodstone warrior lifts his bow, nocks an arrow, and aims it at the chest of one of the Malachites.

“Please, I beg you. Have mercy,” the thin man pleads. “I have children.”

The clouds shift, stealing the sun as the Bloodstone warrior releases his arrow, striking the Malachite man in the chest. Blood pours from his mouth as he falls to his knees. One by one, the long-haired man’s arrows hit their marks until all four men are lying in the bloodstained grass.

Bile rises in my throat as the urge to scream overcomes me, to yell so loud all of this disappears. These deaths. These Bloodstone people. This urge to avenge Mother.

Everything I have done since Mother died—abandoning my tribe, training with the mercenary army, seeking out the Bloodstones—was all to prepare for this moment.

It wasn’t enough.

This is real. These Bloodstone barbarians. Their Malachite enemies. The blood staining us all. This is what I have chosen.

Oh, Olah, give me the strength to do what I must.

As the conversation shifts to disposing of the bodies, I wait. Either the Bloodstone people will condemn me too, or they will not. I cannot run. My Fate is here.

After what seems like an eternity, Kassandra turns to me. “Come.”

A relieved breath rushes from my lungs as I raise my hand to my flushed cheeks. I hadn’t realized how hot it had gotten.

She adopts a soothing tone as she speaks again. “Come, Sol.”

It takes everything in me to not look at the dead men, to rotate and follow Kassandra away from that horrible scene. Away from the dead Malachites. Away from not knowing if I’d live or die. Away from the awareness of being different.

Those Malachites were different.

I am different.

These Bloodstone warriors know that better than anyone. My blue kyanite stone necklace reminds them I am from the tribe that helped bring an end to their magic.

Forty summers ago, our chieftain pleaded to the high gods. Called for an end to the Bloodstone and their darkness.

I am everything the Bloodstone hate and shun.

My heart thrums in my ears as we step inside my small tent. A few days ago, I foolishly believed if I offered myself to a Bloodstone warrior, I would be allowed to stay.

He didn’t take my bait.

Now, I don’t know what to do to compel these people. Healing Leah hadn’t been enough.

My heart thrums harder and harder as I ask Kassandra a question, a pointed question, a question I must know. “What will happen to me?”

Kindness glints in Kassandra’s eyes as she speaks. “The council will decide your Fate.”

Vivid memories play across my thoughts. The Malachites’ pleas. The long-haired man striking them with arrows. The way the condemned fell.

“Do you mind…” I swallow and voice my question pensively. “…if I ask why those Malachites were killed?”

She runs an unsteady hand against her surcoat and shake her head. “I don’t mind if you ask. Malachite warriors attacked us a week ago. Our warriors killed most of them. But those four men were captured by Cenric, the man who executed them today.”

The hem of my surcoat brushes the dirt-packed ground as I step back. “Thank you.”

Kassandra pauses near the tent flap and turns back to me. “I hope they decide in favor of you staying.” She weaves compassion into her words the way others weave bitterness.

She steps from the tent, and the linen flap settles into place.

If they allow me to stay, I can move to step two. The first step was making contact with the Bloodstone people. The next will be diving deep into their culture and being fully accepted. Only then will I be able to get close enough to Roland to carry out his execution.

But none of that can happen until I get through the Bloodstone council.