Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)
Betrayer: Chapter 28

Sunlight spills through the cracks in the walls of the barn the following evening. The same damp, musty smell hits me as I enter.

My conversation with Gabriel last night hasn’t faded. Neither has my concern for Kassandra. As I went about my duties this morning, a hollow sensation settled in the pit of my stomach. No matter where I went or what I did, it never left.

As I take my third step into the barn, unease ripples down the back of my legs. I pause and dart my eyes around. Nothing seems out of place. The animals are in their pens. The tools are where I left them the day before. Yet, the feeling doesn’t ease.

I try to ignore it as I go about my duties: collecting eggs, feeding the animals, and petting Gabriel’s horse. I offer Hale a carrot and turn as I’m overwhelmed by a feeling of not being alone.

My fingers itch to reach for a weapon, but I haven’t carried one with me since Luc kidnapped me. He removed my daggers, and I never replaced them. Gabriel would have questions if he caught me with them. So, it was easier to go without.

Until now.

A thick-waisted man steps from around a large bale of hay, animosity blazing in his black eyes. My stomach squeezes as I dart a quick look around, making sure nobody else joins him.

“What do you need?” I ask curtly.

The man smiles, showing off even white teeth as he leans against a beam. “Hello, Kyanite,” he says, his words slurred.

“What do you need?” I repeat, my tone laced with edges sharp enough to pierce him.

He traces his gaze over me, his stare a lazy prowl over my body. “I heard a rumor.”

Instead of replying, I fold my arms, shielding myself from his lustful view.

“Someone told me you have the serpent mark.” He straightens and allows another pass over me. “Show me.”

I dig the heels of my boots into the soft dirt and inwardly groan.

“I said it was impossible,” the man says. “The gods would never give our mark to a Kyanite. I came to see for myself.”

I don’t have time for this.

I cut to my left, heading for the front of the barn and escape. The man follows, his footsteps heavier and quicker. He snags my upper arm and yanks me around to face him.

“It’s rude to walk away when someone is having a conversation with you,” he growls.

My upper lip curls into a sneer as I react the way I was trained, yanking my arm down and using my left hand to break his hold. Surprise glints behind his stare as I jerk back the moment he clumsily reaches for me again.

“Touch me again, and you’ll die,” I say, my words laced with all the venom I have smothered since arriving in Astarobane.

“Feisty.” A wide grin spreads across his mouth. “I like that in a woman.”

I fold my arms again and level him with an icy stare. “Go, and I won’t tell my husband to kill you.”

“Your husband?” The man sneers. “Gabriel married you because of your mark. Trust me, he wouldn’t have married a Kyanite otherwise.”

The truth in his statement steals my breath, the reality that Gabriel wouldn’t have wed me.

I don’t care.

Even as I think the words, that hollow sensation increases.

“I thought you said you didn’t believe the rumors?” I ask after a moment.

“I didn’t until you broke my hold. Then, I saw the mark plain as day. You are the redemption. How does that make you feel?”

“The only thing I feel is irritation that you won’t leave.”

“See, that’s the thing about leaving.” He scratches at his jaw, peppered with days of growth. “I’m not planning to go alone.”

Trepidation slips down my body, as if the man trails his filthy, jagged nails along my back. Instead of showing it, I scoff.

The man’s eyes blaze as he steps closer and pulls out a worn dagger from the cracked leather belt at his waist. “You’re worth a lot of coin, but more if you’re alive. I’ll try not to scar your Kyanite face.”

He lurches toward me, his steel aimed for my arm. I jerk away, but not quick enough. The edge of his blade slices through my sleeve. I slam my right foot into his legs, dropping him to the ground. He grunts and stares up at me with enough hatred to level an entire city. It curls around my feet, travels up my body, and dives deep within me.

I have seen that look reflecting in the looking glass when I think about Roland.

The man stumbles to his feet and wipes at his mouth. “You’re no simple Kyanite, are you?”

Something shifts in his expression, a hardening as he strikes toward my face. I duck and punch him in the gut. He crumbles to the ground, breathing in quick, jerky gasps.

“Do you even know why you’re here?” he asks between labored breaths. “He’s only going to use you.”

Who?

Gabriel?

Doubtful. He’s rarely around.

The man staggers to his feet and reaches for me. I avoid him with a quick cut to my right. He whirls around and waves his dagger toward my neck. I strike his arm, and the weapon falls to the dirt.

He growls. “Stupid bitch!”

I step back and glower at him. “Leave.”

Instead of heeding me, he stumbles around until he reclaims his pitiful weapon. Sunlight glints off the steel as he waves it around like a lunatic.

“The only way I’m leaving this barn is if you come with me. You can either go quietly, or I can slit your throat and drag you out of here by your hair.”

“Tough choices,” I say, my tone even. “But I’m afraid I must decline both.”

Red blazes across his cheeks as he attacks with all his fury, his frustration, his skill. I avoid him over and over again. Still, he keeps coming, his anger fueling him.

Olah is my witness, I try to just stay alive. But the man is relentless and surprisingly fast, given his intoxicated state. One wrong move, and I’ll end up dead. So, I do the unthinkable, the one thing I promised I wouldn’t do here.

I strike back.

I pick up a pitchfork, duck one of his many attempts to murder me, and ram the weapon deep into the man’s chest. His eyes bulge, and his mouth gapes open. I yank the weapon free, and blood pours from his wound as he crumbles to the dirt floor.

Revulsion swims in my stomach as I drop the makeshift weapon and jerk my gaze around. Nobody stirs, yet my heart races, as if a crowd watched me murder the man.

I drop my focus to him as he twitches and stills. He wears a cracked leather belt. Battle marks mar the fabric of his surcoat. Scars blot his hands and face.

Surely, he’s one of their warriors. Today, he was sloshed, and I bested him, but he may be a hero to them.

Frustration thrums inside me as I kneel and grab his feet. After a firm tug, I drag him only a few inches. I let out a quick breath.

Gabriel is probably home by now. He’ll catch me with the body. He’ll condemn me before all Astarobane. The Bloodstone people will execute me like they killed all the people before me.

I stumble to a nearby haystack and plop to my bottom. This isn’t the way I planned to spend my evening.

I peer across the barn, taking in the body again and frown. Even if I managed to drag him, I don’t know where to hide someone, and I couldn’t bury him without someone walking past.

No. There’s only one thing I can do.

The fireplace draws me into the main room and to the chair Gabriel prefers. I swallow and step closer to my husband.

“Gabriel.”

He doesn’t stir.

I take two more steps into the room and exhale. “Gabriel, I require your aid.”

At those words, he finally turns enough to observe me standing there with my dirty, bloody surcoat. His stare moves over me before he rises to his feet.

“What did you do?”

“What did I do?” I brush at the loose strands against my cheeks. “He attacked me.”

A fierce scowl prods at Gabriel’s mouth and flashes in his silver-blue eyes. “Someone attacked you?”

“Yes, in the barn.” I clear my throat and continue. “I killed him.”

I blink against that reality. I killed a man today. For the first time in my twenty summers, I killed a man. Not in war, not in saving my village, but because he refused to leave my barn.

Gabriel glances between me and the front door like he didn’t quite comprehend what I said to him.

“I tried to drag the body, but he’s too heavy,” I admit.

Olah, help me.

Please, help me.

Gabriel walks to where I stand and slides his gaze over me again. “You’re hurt.”

Instead of scolding or yelling, like I imagined he might, he pulls on my sleeve enough to observe the laceration on my arm.

“I’m well.”

“No, you’re not. You require stitches.”

“I’d like to remove the body first.” Otherwise, people will know what I have done. They’ll come for me. They’ll murder me.

Stop.

Gabriel’s brow rises. “Who was he?”

“I don’t know.”

Gabriel turns and heads toward the barn. My heart pounds, slamming against my ribs. What if he doesn’t believe I acted in self-defense? What if this is the end for me?

No.

As I follow Gabriel, the fading sun mocks me through the trees, the barn, and to the man sprawled on the floor. Gabriel kneels near the stranger and examines him.

I shift my weight and brace myself for his fury, his accusations.

After several intense moments of silence, Gabriel glances up. “You killed Lucian. He was once a well-trained soldier until he turned to drinking. Now, he’s rarely sober.” Gabriel straightens. “What did he want with you?”

“My mark.” I hold up my arm for Gabriel to observe the serpent.

Shadows glint in Gabriel’s eyes as he studies the hissing serpent. “Your mark?”

“Yes. He said someone told him about it, and I am worth a lot of coin.” The words taste bitter against my tongue. Lucian said many hateful things.

Gabriel balls his fingers into fists and curses under his breath.

“I have made you angry.” I swipe a hand across my cheek.

“No.” Gabriel shoves his fingers into his weapon belt and shakes his head.

“Are you angry I killed Lucian?”

Fierceness flares across Gabriel’s face and echoes in his words. “No. I would have killed him had you not.”

“For breaking into your barn?”

“For daring to touch you,” Gabriel says, his tone lined with steel.

He would kill for me? Me? The Kyanite?

Gently, he takes my hand and pulls me toward the door. “Go back to the cottage. I’ll take care of the body.”

“I could help you.”

He squeezes my fingers and releases me. “No. I’ll take care of it.”

Beyond this cottage, a lot of Bloodstone homes stamp the hillside. The people who live in them wouldn’t hesitate to condemn a Kyanite who killed one of their own.

My stomach tightens as I clear my throat and voice a question I must know. “Will I face repercussion?”

“Nobody will know.”

Surprise ripples through me as I stare up at him. “You would do that for me?”

“Yes.” He lowers his gaze to my arm. “When I return, I’ll take care of your wound.”

A shudder ripples through me. Followed by another. It’s not the first time I have been attacked, endured a beating, but there’s something different about this time. Gabriel seemed to care. Father had only ever ordered me to bathe and gave me a cream to rub on my skin. He never even called a healer.

I grip my arm and leave the barn behind. The sun trails me back to my stone cottage and to the fireplace, where I wait for Gabriel.