Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)
Betrayer: Chapter 17

On the tenth morning after we began our journey, we ride into the Bloodstone city. Sunlight hobbles over the houses they chiseled into the mountainside. A sandstone path winds through the streets and cradles the stone shops in the center of Astarobane.

My heart thrums, and my skin warms as people follow us, cheering loudly and waving their hands. Quick breaths escape me as my fingers tighten around the reins. Bitterness grows like sharp thorns inside me, prodding at the ache Mother’s death left. I foster it for a moment, then shove it back into its cage. Later, I can accept its lumbering embrace to the hilt of my revenge.

Gabriel rides his gelding next to me. After the first day, I was no longer forced to share the same horse as him. Golden rays sprawl across his strong features, and a gentle breeze plays with his midnight hair.

Hero rides on the other side of Gabriel. The Bloodstone people point at the white-haired man as he rides past.

“…look. A Carnelian.”

The crowd follows us as we pass below a massive arch that is carved into the mountains and overlooks a valley. Their largest building sits nestled behind it—a marble palace stamped into the cliffs.

As we dismount, a procession of people greets us from the front of the palace. They part as a tall man with frigid eyes and hair as black as a raven walks toward us. He lifts his hand in greeting.

“Welcome to Astarobane.”

My first thought is that he is the man I seek. Roland. Upon a second glance, I realize he’s not the one. Roland has a scar near his mouth. This man doesn’t.

The crowd gathers near and raises their fists toward the sky. “Welcome, brave warriors,” they chant, their voices rising in harmony.

Heaviness assaults my limbs as I dismount along with the rest of our group. Gabriel turns and takes my hand. I flinch and swallow through the ache in my throat. His eyes narrow a fraction, and his fingers tighten, as if daring me to rip free.

I cannot.

As Olah is my witness, I cannot.

The wind picks up, whipping long strands of hair into my face as Gabriel guides me to the man who resembles Roland. The man’s attention flickers to me, and my chest squeezes as if he reached out and clutched me as tight as he could. As quickly as he met my gaze, he looks away.

I look beyond the man’s shoulders, expecting Roland, but nobody else approaches. Luc steps forward, and the man embraces him beneath the watchful stares of their people. The other three members of Luc’s council talk to the man next. Fondness glints in the man’s eyes as he greets each of the men like they’re heroes. Maybe they are to him.

The man I bound myself to steps forward last.

“Welcome to Astarobane, Gabriel,” the man says, his voice searing my skin. He sounds like Roland.

Gabriel tightens his fingers around mine. “Thank you.”

“It’s done,” the man says, his voice low enough I barely hear him.

Gabriel offers a curt nod.

“Who do you have with you?” the man asks.

“My wife, Sol, of the Kyanite tribe.”

The man’s brow rises as he sweeps his intense eyes between us. “Have you gone mad?”

“She bears the serpent mark, Alden,” Gabriel says, his words low and prodding at my composure.

“Impossible. A Kyanite?” Alden asks.

“It’s true.” Gabriel tightens his grip, brings us closer to Alden, and stands behind me, blocking me from the view of the onlookers.

“Show me,” Alden says.

Gabriel brings my hand forward, shoves up my sleeve, and rolls my wrist upward, displaying the mark.

I stiffen, my pretense shattering around me like broken pottery.

No, hide your fire!

Hide it.

Hide it now.

Down, down, down I shove it until I no longer want to yank my hand away.

Alden smiles at me, and what’s left of my heart withers as he speaks. “Welcome to Astarobane, Sol.”

Music stabs my ears, and goblets clink against the tables. I force bites between my stiff lips and will this night to be over. Meeting Alden and having my mark displayed like a butcher showing off its goods left my pretense at its shattering point. Eating with the Bloodstone people yanks me over hot coals.

Gabriel sits to my right. Luc to my left. The Carnelian sits on the other side of Gabriel.

Hero eats in silence and ignores the stares cast his way. The people here in Astarobane act as if they have never seen a Carnelian before.

As I take small bites of my food, I slide my attention over the room, searching for Kassandra. After three thorough passes, I don’t replace her. After my fourth pass, I realize not a single person in attendance has a red circle on their surcoat. Well, other than those serving the people gathered here. Every single one of those women and men wears a surcoat with that bold red circle.

One of the men sitting at the tables stands out from the rest. The way he picks up his goblet with his left hand and drinks, and the way the torchlight glistens off his blond hair.

Malachi!

I haven’t seen him in four summers, not since I left our village. From the distance between us, I can’t make out his eyes. I remember exactly what they look like, though. They’re the same color gray as the sky before it storms.

As Alden eats, he steals glances at Gabriel and me. My stomach twists as I continue to force bites and resist the overwhelming desire to move away from Gabriel. He’s too close. The way his thighs touch mine. The way our arms brush with each bite I take.

I raise my goblet to my lips and welcome the warmth from the wine. After a second, longer drink, I look up to replace Alden’s watchful gaze on me again.

“Gabriel.” He leans forward, dragging the warrior’s attention to him. “Show me your dedication to your wife.”

A frown wrenches at Gabriel’s mouth as he lowers his knife to his plate and straightens. “How should I do that?”

“Kiss her, so we can see how much you esteem her.”

My heart falls out of my chest. Well, it should after such shocking words.

Kiss Gabriel in front of all these people. Kiss him?

Clouds swirl in Gabriel’s eyes as he jerks them to me. I offer a weak smile. It’s impossible to give anything more.

“Here?” Gabriel asks, his tone brusque.

Precisely.

Torchlight lolls across Alden’s stark features as he nods. “Yes. Here.” As he speaks, he swoops his eyes over the room. “If you want our people to accept your Kyanite bride, it must appear as if you adore her.”

My fingers tingle with the urge to yank up my stoneware and drink all my wine. In truth, I require a river full of spirits to numb the nerves swimming in my belly.

Kisses are intimate. They aren’t entertainment for others to watch, to ridicule, to judge.

“Surely, that’s unnecessary,” Luc says with a frown.

Alden shakes his head, and Luc falls silent. “It is necessary.” His attention shifts to the somber Gabriel. “Gabriel, you will do as I say.”

For several long, pointed beats, the men lock gazes. One looks determined and commanding. The other looks like he’d rather bathe with jellyfish than concede to the older man’s demand.

A muscle twitches in Gabriel’s jaw as he catches my cheek with his hand, bringing my face toward his. I inhale the moment he leans down, touching his mouth to mine. Nerves thrum in my throat at the pressure of his lips, at the tingles, at the waves surging through my veins.

Dismay prods at my mind, reminding me of who he is. What he is.

I drown all of it and respond to his kiss—seeking only the heat, the curiosity sprawling through me. After all, I pledged myself to him, and I vowed to win his devotion. Responding to him may be the first step.

Gabriel pulls back, and I catch my hands against the table. My lips burn where they touched his. My skin flames when I think of everyone watching. Especially Alden.

I swallow hard, forcing away the memory, and instead, only allow the hatred toward Roland to burgeon inside me. There’s no room for anything else.

There never was.

“Fantastic,” Alden says, shattering the rest of the moment. “You will be a father in no time, Gabriel, if you bed her nightly.”

Ash scorches my tongue as I pin my stare to the far wall. A baby wasn’t part of the bargain.

Not now. Not ever.

A smirk tugs at the corner of Luc’s mouth as he glances between me and the stiff man next to me. Gabriel yanks up his wine and takes a quick drink.

As the men fall into conversation, I reach for my goblet, too, draining the contents. It’s not enough to forget kissing Gabriel.

I’m not sure anything would be.