Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)
Betrayer: Chapter 15

As I step outside the tent the following morning, a gentle wind welcomes me, as does the bustle of at least three hundred Bloodstone warriors. They move about the camp, breaking down the linen tents and loading all their possessions into wagons.

I look over the encampment, but I don’t see the man I’m wed to. Relief surges over me until I remember the way he rejected me. He may dislike me enough to leave me here.

Sunlight winks between thick clouds as I reach for my useless kyanite stone and frown. Gabriel cannot do that to me.

The wind picks up, tugging at the edges of Kassandra’s surcoat as she steps from a nearby tent and waves at me. “Good morning.”

“What’s happening?” I sweep my hand in an arc toward the soldiers.

A broad smile brightens her face. “It’s time to go north to the mountains.”

“Truly?” My pulse quickens as anticipation pours over me. I may meet the rest of the Bloodstone tribe, and they may lead to Roland.

“Yes. We have finished here. Now, we can travel home.”

Home? What does home look like for them?

Before I came here, I read every book I could replace about the Bloodstone. None of them mentioned more than the general area of where their homes are.

Everyone knows the Bloodstone live in the north, near the mountains. The Kyanites live in the south, near the sea. The specific locations of the Bloodstone villages and cities are much harder to replace.

It probably didn’t help that Kyanite people don’t care about the Bloodstone people. They most definitely don’t write about them. The few books I had read were from an old peddler I met after I left Kyanite land.

Ask Kassandra questions.

Find out more about them.

I knit my hands together and smile. “What did you finish?”

Her gaze whips to the warriors, settling on them for several breaths before she replaces her voice. “We left for a greater purpose.”

What does that mean?

“What kind of purpose?” I ask, still needing more information.

Pride glints in Kassandra’s eyes and echoes in her words as she speaks. “The army you see before you isn’t just any Bloodstone army. It’s Luc’s army. It will do anything to protect the Bloodstone people.”

I run my fingers against my surcoat, smoothing the edges. “How long has it been since you were home?”

She shrugs. “I consider this army my home.”

“But you do have a home?”

“Of course, but it’s been months since I was there.”

Then their mission took months?

“Is Astarobane the only Bloodstone city?” I ask, hoping she’ll be more insightful than Gabriel.

“It’s not.” She brushes dust from her surcoat.

Kassandra’s gaze shifts to the left as five men approach and work on the tent I shared with Gabriel.

“Get your things and come with me,” Kassandra says, dragging my attention back to her.

I nod and enter the tent to gather my leather satchel. Without looking at the bed, I step back outside. I don’t have time to dwell on what did or didn’t happen. Yet, thoughts still sink into my skin and taunt my pride.

A Bloodstone warrior spurned me. With one look, he deemed me unworthy. Untouchable.

It shouldn’t bother me, but it does.

He had achieved what he wanted with the council. Later that night, they had entered his tent to observe the blood on the bedcovers.

Gabriel is the key. He’s unlocking the door to the mountains and the rest of his tribe. Without him, his people would have sent me away, and without him, they will never allow me to immerse myself into their culture.

Kassandra leads me to a nearby wagon, where she shares fresh wheat bread and clean water.

“Thank you,” I say as I tear off a chunk of bread.

“Of course.” She leans against the wagon. “I never dreamed I’d meet a Kyanite who’s so kind to me.”

Instant guilt scrapes at my throat. I befriended her because I need her companionship and confidence.

Besides, she’s the kind one. Not me.

“We’re not all bad,” I say when I can’t think of anything else.

“I don’t think Kyanites are horrible.” Her stare lifts to settle beyond my shoulder. “It is my people who despise Kyanites. They blame your people for the loss of our magic.”

“That was many summers ago.” I push loose strands of hair from my cheeks. “Forty summers.”

“Yes.” She nods. “It’s inane when you consider it. Our tribes hate each other over a rift that happened before we were born. We can be different.”

“We can.” More guilt scrapes at my throat at the facade behind my words.

“It will be our little secret,” she says with another wide smile.

“I love secrets.” Probably too much. Definitely too much.

“Me too.” She settles her stare over my shoulder again, as if gaging whether she’s free to speak. “Don’t allow Gabriel to upset you.”

I pull my cloak closer and consider my words before speaking. “I’m used to men like him.”

“Truly?” She plays with the ribbon binding her braid. “I have always thought he was unique.”

Gabriel, unique? Doubtful.

Instead of showing her my disbelief, I ask a question. “How is he unique?”

“Well…” esteem fills her tone as she speaks. “…he joined the bloodstone army three summers ago, and he rose to first commander in only two summers. Most men take far longer to rise to such a lofty position.”

“Is he below a general?”

“Yes. He’s second to Luc.”

A sudden thought strikes me, so I voice it out loud. “How old is Gabriel?”

She laughs, the sound bubbly and full of mirth. “I thought you would have asked sooner. Gabriel is twenty-eight.”

Then, he’s eight summers older than me. Father was ten summers older than Mother.

“I think he hates me.”

She straightens and brushes breadcrumbs from her surcoat. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t trust easily.”

“That’s wise.” Inwardly, I groan. Gabriel isn’t making this easy for me. “It’s better to be cautious.”

She digs the toe of her left boot into the sand. “Just give him time.”

“I will.”

I take a risk by asking a pointed question. “Have your people always visited the same Seer?”

“No. Not the same.”

I let the conversation end, even though more questions burn my tongue. Mostly, why would a Seer aid the Bloodstone? Later, when I have gained more of Kassandra’s confidence, I will ask more questions.

Leah approaches from a cluster of soldiers. She wears the same leather and mail armor. A broad sword hangs from her hip. Surprise ripples through me at the observation. As far as I can tell, there are no other woman soldiers in the camp.

The mercenary army I was in had many women soldiers. I doubt the Bloodstone do.

She stops in front of us and offers me a quick smile. “I want to personally thank you for saving my life.”

“Of course.” I return her smile as I continue. “I’m glad to see that you have fully recovered.

Using her left hand, Leah shades her face from the sun. “I have thanks to you.”

I glance at the warriors still moving around the camp, still packing for their journey. “Are you apart of the Bloodstone army?”

Humor sparks in Leah’s eyes. “Much to the chagrin of my brother. He would prefer I stay home, marry, and raise a bunch of brats.”

“But you don’t want that,” Kassandra says knowingly.

Leah shudders. “Absolutely not.”

As the two women join the bustle of activity, I stand near a tree with my satchel clutched close. Nobody seems to notice or care.

Kassandra looks out of place next to the soldiers, yet she weaves in and out of them, talking and laughing. Each one greets her with a smile.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, they finish packing and saddle their horses. My heart bangs against my ribs as I gaze at each wagon full of belongings and people. They didn’t leave any space for me.

I turn as a black gelding trots through the center of the camp, its lone rider the very man I wed myself to. Heat grips my chest as Gabriel’s rejection burns my pride.

Frustration boils inside me, festering the longer I watch him. I don’t show it, though. As Olah is my witness, I don’t show it.

Luc and the three men who sat on the council ride in front of Gabriel. Their men cheer as they ride past. Without their war paint, they appear normal, but I know what they’re capable of. My homeland bears the scars.

Leah rides behind them, collecting her fair share of stares. She cuts a daunting figure, wearing their combination of leather and mail. She may be small compared to them, but she looks just as fierce with her eyes pinned a head and her shoulders straight.

Kassandra guides her mare to where I stand. An older lady rides behind Kassandra. She clutches at the younger woman’s waist and stares distantly, as if she has lost the ability to see. Like Kassandra, a red circle marks her surcoat.

“You don’t know,” Kassandra says.

My brow rises, and my pulse thrashes against my throat. Know what? That they’re going to leave me here?

“What don’t I know?”

A sheepish smile grips her mouth. “I forgot to tell you earlier. I’m sorry.” She points her chin toward Gabriel. “Every married couple rides together on the first day.”

I’d rather bathe in a sea full of scorpions.

“Oh, I see.” I manage a smile. “How delightful.”

“Estrid.” The old lady nods as she repeats the name. “Estrid.”

“Grandmother, I told you. Estrid isn’t here.” Patience and warmth linger in Kassandra’s words.

“No.” Her grandmother dances her left hand through the air. “Estrid.”

“I know.” Kassandra reaches out, touching her grandmother’s arm. “You loved Estrid very much.”

Tears brighten the old woman’s eyes and trail down her ashen cheeks. “I want to go home.”

“We are going home, grandmother.”

The old lady mumbles beneath her breath and fumbles for the pendant hanging around her neck. Like Alf, it contains an empty socket—one that probably once cradled a bloodstone.

Kassandra returns her gaze to me. “Go to Gabriel.”

With a quick nod, I move through the line of soldiers until I reach the man I’d love nothing more than to shove from his perch. His horse kicks at the sand as Gabriel watches the Bloodstone warriors riding past.

“Gabriel,” I say loud enough to carry above the hum of soldiers. “Kassandra says I’m to ride with you.”

Sunlight shimmers in his silver-blue eyes as he lowers them to me. He doesn’t speak, nor does he offer me a welcoming glance. Warmth burns my ears as soldiers turn to watch us.

The sky above!

If Gabriel makes me walk, I’ll stab him in his sleep.

Beneath the heat of their stares, my pride stings. I imagine what they might think, how internally they’re probably laughing at Gabriel’s obvious disdain for me.

Gabriel blinks and offers a smile that seems more forced than genuine and dismounts his gelding. He nods toward the horse, as if he expects me to know what he wants. Every single part of me screams with the need to snub him.

I cannot. I set my course the moment I left Kyanite land, and this stubborn, tight-lipped, inhospitable man will not make me tremble.

“Will you help me?” The words scorch my lips, as does the sting of him believing I need his aid. I was five when Father first placed me on a horse. I need this man’s help like I need a toothache.

“Put your right foot in the stirrup,” Gabriel says in a flat voice.

I obey, placing my foot in the stirrup and reaching for the saddle. His hands replace my backside, and he pushes me upward until I’m sitting on the horse. Warmth scours the area he touched as I try to look anywhere but at the men still watching us.

Gabriel speaks in that same flat voice. “Move forward.”

Again, I obey without question. He mounts the gelding behind me and reaches for the reins. I stiffen at the contact, the feel of his firm body pressing against me.

The sky above!

This journey will be the longest journey of my twenty summers. That is, if I don’t encourage the gelding to a gallop and throw Gabriel from its back.

Laughter bubbles up inside me at the imagery of him soaring through the air and landing in the dirt, but I don’t allow it freedom.

Instead, I hunch forward, creating distance between my back and Gabriel’s chest. He’s still too close. His thighs. His arms. His heat searing through my surcoat. Ten pairs of clothes wouldn’t be enough to chase away this kind of warmth.

He shifts to hold the reins with one hand, places the other against my waist, and jerks me against him. I try to wiggle away, to create separation. His grip tightens, keeping me close.

The warmth of his breath brushes against my cheek as he speaks near my ear. “Don’t move. We will ride like this.”

“You’re holding me too tight,” I protest, needing that comfort of distance between us.

“I’m holding you,” he begins, his mouth near my ear again, “the way a husband holds his wife the day after they have wed. You will stay here.”

Tingles shoot through my fingers with the urge to shove him away. Instead, I hold my body stiff, not allowing myself to sink against him. “Our marriage didn’t matter last night when you left me all alone.”

“It matters now.”

I allow my gaze to move, to catch on the soldiers riding past. They watch us. Every single one of them.

Gabriel cares what they think. He cared last night when he cut his palm to fool the council, and he cares now.

He gives his horse lead, and it follows the group of soldiers moving toward the mountains.

I choke back the resentment, the anger, the mortification that Gabriel spurned me and focus on my path.

Gabriel is one tiny bump in a longer road. I can tolerate his presence long enough to get close to his chieftain.

When I do, I’ll sink my vengeance deep into Roland’s chest.