Her jaw clenched as she swallowed. “Your chain. I hope you can break it some day.”
He hesitated, keeping the distance she held even though he wanted to get closer. “Brela, I don’t understand what I did.”
Brela sucked in a breath. “I…” Her foot hovered, as if she would step closer. His gut clenched when she shifted it behind her. “Ovir’s meeting is over so I’m allowed to leave. I’m really sorry, Captain Valkip.”
Cason would have followed her as she hurried down the steps if he hadn’t been so stunned that she had called him by his title, not his name.
15
To Catch a Night Terror
Shadow-cursed murderers.
Brela leaned against the gate to Ovir’s home and vomited into the bushes.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.She cursed at Valkip. Cursed at herself. Cursed at Gerrart for wearing so much hellthorn that she had already vomited three times since getting clear of it. At least she had gotten out of the dress before it could be ruined.
For the first time in her life, she thanked the shadow god Ryia for her trickster ways. Somehow, Valkip hadn’t seen the lie she told. Hadn’t understood the real fear in her eyes and the real reason she couldn’t breathe and nearly fainted around the hellthorn.
Playing with that handsome captain had been a game. A glorious game of tempting fire and destruction—a craving of thrills and danger—but there was only one way it could end, and she should have seen it coming.
For a moment, she had believed he might be different after everything he dealt with. Four hells, he had spoken the words that she’d given him as Maeve, but it didn’t mean anything to him. Not when it came to theshadow-cursed.
The prince was different about her people, so couldn’t that have changed Valkip’s mind? Couldn’t that kindness be extended? Didn’t he see how similar they were?
His chain.
Brela vomited again, though she wasn’t sure it was because of the hellthorn. Pierce’s rumbling laugh echoed above her as she threw an obscene gesture at him and stormed into the forest.
Valkip had shown that kindness to her only because he didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know about her magic or her ties to the Veil Worshippers. And the way he said those words.Shadow-cursed murderers. So much hate hanging in the air. He didn’t have to say it that way. He didn’t have to say anything butshadow-cursed,yet he chose to add those words.Horrible. Murderers.
And she hadenjoyedthat he touched her, kissed her, looked at her without hate or fear. That’s what made her sick. She had sought that roaring fire in the hopes he would be different. That he wouldn’t curl in disgust at the mention of Valisea or the shadow-kind. That he would understand what it was like to be misunderstood, hated, and feared for what was considered a destructive magic.
Serill was right. She and Valkip would set the forest on fire, but only because the captain would hunt her down and burn her, even if it meant tearing the forest down around them.
Brela had gotten too close to the flames; to exposing herself in search of something to clear her mind of Ovir. It only made things worse, and she’d lost her chance at seeing who got what at the auction.
She sucked in a breath and lifted her chin. Then wiped her palms on her black pants, comforted by the knives strapped to her corset belt, hidden in her sleeves, and sheathed along her legs. No more playing with fire.
Brela ducked behind a low hanging branch, electing to make her way back to Averlyn through the darkened trees instead of the streets.
And ran directly into Warley’s chest.
* * *
Four times.Cason went over the conversation four times with no luck.
He had been telling the truth. He didn’t care that Brela didn’t have magic. He didn’t care about the scars. He didn’t care about the man she said she was chained to.
Was that her hesitation? Was she tied to Ovir in a way he didn’t understand? In a manner he wouldn’t cross?
No, he still meant what he said. He didn’t care what she had done to have debts to pay. She had been on his mind for a reason, and even if she didn’t want it, he would fight for her. Find a way to protect her.
He glanced up as Serill stepped through the doorway. The prince held up his hand. “I already snapped at Gerrart for his behavior, so please don’t make it worse by hunting him down tonight.”
Cason raked a hand through his hair. “Drunk bastard.”
“I told him that, too.” Serill sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop him soon enough, though I’m surprised you didn’t notice him coming.”
