I’d only used a blade to slaughter animals to eat when it became too dangerous to venture into the little villages. But the experiences taught me the best way to fit a knife between small ribs.
Fresh screams erupted into my ears. My raw throat said I’d also screamed at some point, but deeper shouts joined mine into a chorus of terror and suffering.
The white hot pain soothed. My vision returned, fuzzy on the edges.
The Curse Catcher looked at the blade protruding from his chest – the one I’d shoved between his ribs to dig deep into his heart. He turned up to me, mouth agape, fresh blood oozing from the lips that stole kisses from my neck.
I ground my teeth and twisted the knife. “Too bad you won’t die slowly enough.”
He staggered back, and I let him go. He fell to his knees, mouth opening and closing as though reciting a prayer to an unknown god to save his life. His black gaze fell on me.
The deity did not provide an answer. The man slumped to the side. His chest stilled.
My legs gave out, and I landed on my knees. The white noise pounding through my head didn’t quite let me believe I’d survived. I sucked in a fresh breath.
Dray’s knife protruded from the man’s body. I crawled across the ground, ignoring the cuts of sticks and rocks slicing through my borrowed clothes. I grabbed the hilt, and the weapon made a sucking sound as it released. I twisted to see Dray, and be sure the fight had not claimed his life, but his horse blocked my view.
I stared at the horse. Then, back at the knife in my hand.
I could leave.
The shouts and metallic sounds said that Dray continued to fight, but nobody shouted at me. As much as I couldn’t see them, they hadn’t seen the man I’d killed. The king assumed I’d been properly incapacitated.
I forced my shaking legs to rise and slipped back toward the animal, careful to muffle my steps. The reins that used to trap me to the Reaper suddenly felt like freedom.
I had my voice. I could finally choose my future.
The horse snored and turned as I tugged him toward the woods. I kept his body between me and the others, a living blockade and my only hope of concealment.
“Stop,” the king’s voice boomed through my ears. The sound of fighting paused. I froze, immediately expecting his men to grab me again.
Nothing.
They still hadn’t noticed me. Whatever the king ordered to halt had nothing to do with my imminent escape. I took another hesitant step away.
A woman’s scream echoed into the night.
“Don’t!” Dray’s voice followed the yell. A thunk of metal on hard dirt suggested the Reaper’s sword fell to the ground. “Don’t hurt her.”
I bit my lip. I ached to run, but his voice called me back. It brought back every ache of my body as he toyed with me. Every stubborn shout that had tried to cross my lips, but couldn’t come out, as he brought me to my knees over and over again.
I’d never heard such desperation.
I crouched beneath the horse and peered under its legs. One Reaper held Rylla around the neck and he dug a sharp knife into her arm. She cried out again.
“You’ve lost the rest of your family, Dray. Would you care to lose another?” the king asked. She turned her scream into a low groan at another slash of the blade. “Don’t think we won’t find her children and take them, too. There are few places to hide under my authority.”
Dray dropped to his knees before the king. “What would you have me do?”
The monarch laughed, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. His gaze searched the field.
For me.
The reins turned damp from my sweaty palm. The moments to choose between my escape or somehow helping Rylla and Dray narrowed.
The king found me, and his brow creased with narrow humor.
I drove the blade into the pocket of the apron around my waist.
