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Authors: Crista McHugh

A Soul for Trouble (31 page)

BOOK: A Soul for Trouble
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She’s just been betrayed by Kell. I don’t need to pick up where he left off by trying to get
under her skirts.

He took a steely breath and kept his eyes on the knot. If he focused there, maybe he wouldn’t notice the rest of her body. The smell of roses wafted from her skin. Longing threatened to seize control of him.
Steady. Keep your game face on, and don’t let her know
how close you are to slipping the fabric from her shoulders and tasting her skin.

“Done,” he announced and stepped back toward the portal. The sooner he got away from her, the sooner he could regain what few threads of self-control he had left.

“Thank you.” Her swollen and red-rimmed eyes watched him with confusion.

The way she held the loose bodice to her chest under the light of the three moons made her look even more like some helpless waif on the street. Protective urges like he’d never felt before clawed their way to the surface. His heart began to beat faster. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“No.” The one word froze him halfway through the portal. “You need some real rest tonight, Dev, especially if we need to make a quick escape or battle undead tomorrow. Why don’t you sleep in your bed instead of the chair?”

“I need to protect you.”

“But you placed wards on the windows and the doors. No one’s coming in tonight unless they know how to break them.”

Thank Jussip she could think more clearly than him at the moment. “You have a point.”

“Please, rest, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine in the morning.” Realization jolted through his body. She was pushing him away.
Probably for the best
, he told himself as he nodded, but it didn’t dull the sting of her rejection. “If you need me, I’m right on the other side.”

“I know.”

He entered his empty room and stared at the perfectly made-up bed. He pulled back the covers and crawled under them fully clothed and armed. The hard metal of his concealed weapons dug into his ribs, making it difficult to find a comfortable position.

***

Sulaino drummed his fingers on the message box, waiting for the glow announcing a new message. Three hours had passed since he gave his terms to Gandor. The snotty little prince seemed all too happy to give him what he wanted. Greed did odd things to men’s minds.

Gandor seemed so focused on claiming his father’s crown that he never realized the golden-haired witch’s worth.

“Shame on him for being such a fool, but lucky me.” He plucked a late-season grape off a plate. The first frost of the season crystallized the sugar inside, creating a sweet syrup when he popped it into his mouth. “What do you think, Yessling?” The former lord answered with a blank stare.

He laughed. “Oh, I forgot. You’re undead now. No more talking. I think I’m coming to enjoy it.”

The message box began to glow like an oil lamp.

“Oh joy!”

The contents of the note met his expectations. The king refused to hand over the Soulbearer, but a mutiny was forming right under his nose because of it. He’d have her before the deadline he set.

Sulaino laid the paper aside with a grin. He could afford to be patient now. One more day, and everything would fall into place.

He stepped outside and began to cast. Thick fog rolled in from the river banks, shrouding his entire forces from the prying eyes of Heodis’ forces. Tomorrow night, the people of Ranello would know the true meaning of fear.

***

Arden looked out the window, watching the fog cover the three moons. Was Sulaino leaving? The continued icy dread that filled her heart answered her question. He was still out there, waiting for her.

She’d managed to cry herself to sleep earlier and woke up alone her bed. Well, technically, not alone. Cinder’s coarse fur remained within reach if she needed reassurance.

She ran her fingers through it and savored the warm heat radiating from his body.

Dev’s behavior tonight bothered her more than an inn full of rowdy drunkards. Whether he was angry or disgusted by her reaction to Kell’s betrayal, he couldn’t wait to get away from her. Of course, she didn’t blame him one bit. All this time, he’d warned her to stay away from the prince, that he only meant to use her, but she’d blindly ignored him. The bitter truth was hard to swallow when she learned it.

Cinder’s head popped up, and his ears perked forward. A low growl rumbled through his body.

“What is it, boy?” she whispered.

He crouched as still as a statue, staring at the portal.

She sat up and grabbed the switchblade Dev had given her. Something didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. After slipping her feet into the suede slippers by her bed, she tiptoed closer to the portal. “Dev?”

Chaos erupted on the other side of the wall. The sounds of furniture creaking and muffled voices filtered through the portal. Cinder bolted past her, disappearing into Dev’s room. A man cried out in pain.

Her heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings. It was the only thing in her body that dared to move. Fear paralyzed the rest of it.

The struggle continued in the other room. Then Dev’s voice shouted, “Trouble, run!” The mortar holding her feet to the ground cracked. Dev was being attacked, and she was standing there like a coward instead of running in to help him. Sour disgust rose into her throat.

She flicked the blade of her knife open and ran blindly into the next room.

A grunt greeted her as she buried the blade into the first body she collided with. Thank the Lady Moon it wasn’t Dev. A pair of hands grabbed her from behind, but she slashed any piece of exposed flesh she could get to.

Three men struggled to restrain Dev to the bed. A pair of dull silver manacles circled his wrists with a chain between them, but that didn’t stop him from punching one of his captors.

“Trouble, get out of here.”

“No.” She punctuated the word with another stab into an attacker. Warm, sticky blood coated her hands, and the smell turned her stomach.

“Stop messing around and get the witch,” Larenis commanded from the doorway. “And remember, she needs to be alive.”

A crack, followed by a thud, came from the bed. Dev’s limp body lay unmoving on the sheet. Her throat closed up
. No, not Dev.

Now that they’d subdued him, they turned on her. Three of them pushed her toward the corner, cutting off her escape. The faint moonlight glittered off their weapons. The acid stench of sweat mingled with the metallic smell of blood in the small room. Their chests heaved, but they all stood still as if they waited for the signal to attack her.

Flames replaced the fear inside her, spreading through her limbs like a wildfire. They may have swords, but she had magic. She’d burn the palace to the ground if she needed to.

Another cry of pain pierced the silence. A soldier struggled to wrench free from Cinder’s jaws, but the wolf held tight. Seeing his determination to keep fighting strengthened her resolve.

“Get the girl and kill the wolf,” Larenis barked from a safe distance of the brawl.

Coward
, her mind hissed.

One of the men lunged at her. She held her breath and twisted to avoid his hands, only to find herself face to face with another’s blade. He slashed at her. A squeal escaped her lips as she jumped back.

Cinder released his victim at the sound and ran toward her.

“Look out,” a voice warned just before the wolf sank his teeth into the thigh of one her attackers.

“Get it off me!” The man’s sword clattered to the ground, and both hands gripped Cinder’s head.

“Gladly,” one of his comrades answered, plunging his blade into the wolf’s chest.

Time stood still. Her vision blurred with tears. “Cinder!” her voice screamed, but it seemed to come from a distant place. Blood rushed in her ears, growing louder as her rage built inside her. Her magic begged for release. A string of curse words erupted from her mouth in sync with the bolts of blue lightning from her fingertips. The soldiers flew across the room when it hit them, leaving holes in the plaster walls from the impact before crumpling into unconscious heaps.

Arden sank to her knees. Everything around her faded from view except the bleeding wolf at her feet.
Damn stupid, loyal wolf
. Sobs choked her throat. She ran her hands through the blood-soaked fur, searching for the source of the red river flowing across his body. “I’m not going to let you die,” she whispered.

Her fingers sank into the squishy flesh of the wound, and her stomach heaved. This was more serious than Ortono’s wound. Cinder’s chest still moved up and down but grew fainter with each breath. Time was running out. She focused on the wound and saw the layers of torn tissue in her mind. Her magic took hold of her, flowed into Cinder.

She managed to staunch the heaviest bleeding before someone grabbed her from behind. A cloth doused in something that stank like overly fermented fruit covered her mouth and nose.

The interruption ripped her from the healing spell, draining her energy with it. She tried to struggle, but with each inhalation of the sickening smell, her eyes grew heavier.

“Grab the chains before she casts another spell.”

I can’t give up. Need to keep fighting. Won’t surrender
. Her thoughts became slurred, and her muscles refused to obey her mind. Blackness closed in around her as the cold metal circled her wrists.

Chapter 32

Kell poured another glass of wine and stared at the dim light that filtered through the fog.

He wanted to feel giddy drunk or at least numb, but the wine didn’t have its usual effect. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the betrayal on Arden’s face. It ate away at his gut like a gallon of vinegar.

“Damn it!” he shouted and hurled the glass at the wall. The crash echoed in his mind, wine-coated shards tinkling across the floor. He’d been so close to having it all come together perfectly. So damn close…

His head ached, and the pounding at the door only made it worse. “By the light of three moons, stop.”

“Unlock the door then.” Bynn. Of all the times to have an overly concerned friend, this wasn’t one of them.

“Leave me alone.”

“Not likely.” A series of clicks came from the other side, and the door sprang open. “I knew learning how to pick a lock would come in handy one day.”

“You’re in. I’m alive. Now piss off.”

“You’re drunk, and you look like shit. I’d be a bad friend if I let you continue to drink alone.” He sat down at the table next to him and eyed the untouched food. “Let me guess: dinner?”

“I lost my appetite.”

“Listen, if this about Sulaino—”

“Sulaino can go fuck Gandor for all I care.” The image of that flickered through his mind, and he snickered. His self-absorbed brother deserved it.

“Ouch!” Bynn poured a glass of water and shoved it into his hand. “Drink this instead.

You need to sober up if we’re going to form a plan to deal with that mess out there.”

“I don’t wanna sober up. I wanna feel something other than what I’m feeling now.”

“And what’s that?”

He wasn’t drunk enough to admit it out loud, even to his best friend. Instead, he just pulled the gold and sapphire comb out of his pocket at tossed it onto the table.

“Ah, the lady witch.”

Calling her a witch rankled his insides as much as the smell of stale piss. “Stop calling her that.”

“What happened between you and Arden?”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

His friend pouted. “That’s a bit uncalled for.”

“Well, so is you picking a lock to get in here.” Every lash of his anger relieved some of the pain inside his chest. He wondered how much longer Bynn would sit there and take it.

“I’m not leaving until you’re better.”

He gulped the water in the glass, and his stomach lurched. “Why do you have to be such a pain in the ass sometimes?”

He shrugged. “Because you’d do the same for me. Now, tell me what she did.”

“She let me down.”

“Because she didn’t want to risk her neck? Not too surprising.”

“Then she accused me of playing games with her to recruit her to my cause.” While the rest of his mind felt as foggy as the weather outside, he remembered every word of their argument with crystal clarity. “She told me she didn’t want to look at me anymore.”

“Can’t say I blame her. You
were
using her.”

Kell rubbed the greasy stubble on his cheeks. “It started out that way, Bynn, but then, things changed.”

“Who’d have thought she’d be the one to snare you?”

“Yeah, who’d have thought it?” he muttered. He reached a shaky hand across the table and refilled the water glass while Bynn went to the door to speak to one of the servants. When his friend returned, he added, “I wonder what my father’s going to do with her now.”

“Gandor’s campaigning pretty hard to turn her over to Sulaino. He’s got most of the lords on his side, too.”

“Including your father?”

Bynn snorted. “He remembers when your father burned Sulaino’s family. It happened in Nevarro, after all. The only thing I’ve heard him say about the matter is that we should’ve burned him with the rest of them.”

“Too bad we can’t go back in time and fix our mistakes.” He knew the one thing he’d do—not let her get under his skin like she did. If he could manage that, then he wouldn’t be wallowing in wine-induced self-pity like he was now.

“When pigs fly and Elslyn learns to smile.”

A snicker worked its way past his lips.

Another knock came from outside. “That’s awfully fast for breakfast,” Bynn said and opened the door.

A pale-faced Ortono stood in the hallway, his shaking hand wrapped around a piece of paper. “May I have a word with you, Your Highness?”

Kell rubbed his aching brow. “What is it?”

He glanced at Bynn and gulped. The faint light of suspicion filled his eyes. “It’s a private matter concerning Lady Arden, Your Highness. If it pleases you, I’d prefer to speak to you alone.”

“You don’t trust Lord Bynn?”

He stared at the floor. “I know he’s not too fond of her, Your Highness, and I have reason to believe something bad has happened to her—”

BOOK: A Soul for Trouble
4.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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