Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)
Betrayer: Chapter 50

It takes all my training to stay hidden during the night and the following morning.

Soldiers move around the city just like the day before as they prepare to flee. Nobody seems to search for me.

Though, I don’t doubt Gabriel is looking. Nobody looks as fierce as he did last night and then willingly gives up. Especially, when they believe that woman will bring magic back to their people.

I bury myself further in my straw tomb. It has left a terrible itch all over my body. I resist the urge to scratch. Instead, I keep still and mentally prepare myself for the next step.

If I hear people talking about Hector again, I’ll try to listen.

I stole two throwing knives earlier from one of the weaponsmiths. He never looked up from his anvil when I sneaked into his shop.

The reality of what I must do sinks beneath my skin. The moment I step from my hiding spot and kill Hector, my life here is over. The life I built with Gabriel is over.

Oh, Gabriel.

He used me. Maybe everything he said to me was a lie. I frown. I used him too, and I certainly didn’t always speak lies. I was drawn to him. I did want him to bed me.

If I weren’t hiding in this pile of straw, I’d stare at my binding tattoo—the one he picked for me. Maybe it was never supposed to be more than an ornament on my wrist—proof I wed a Bloodstone.

From the cracks in the stables, voices carry to where I sit.

“…Hector is coming.”

“…Hurry! He’ll be here soon.”

I rush from my tomb of straw, dust off the pieces clinging to my surcoat, and straighten my back. If I don’t act soon, I may never have a chance to carry out my mission.

Gabriel will replace me. He’ll tie me up, and I’ll never get close to Hector.

Quick breaths escape me as I step from the stables and listen. The sound of horses’ hooves carry to my ears.

Someone is certainly coming. Someone that could be Hector.

I gulp in warm air and try to calm my frantic heart. This is the right thing to do.

It has to be.

I flatten myself against the wall of the stables as a woman and young child scurry by. They don’t pay any attention to me. If they did, they’d see me standing with my hair wild and straw clinging to my surcoat.

Sunlight streaks through the clouds, illuminating me and the rider suddenly in view. I squint against the brightness, needing to see a glimpse of his face, but he rides by so quickly, I only make out a blur of his figure and the glint of the gold livery collar around his neck.

I reach for the throwing knife and draw in more calming breaths. This is the only way.

For Mother.

For Kassandra.

For all Kyanites.

I raise one knife, ready to launch it, and scream as loudly as I can. “Hector!”

The warrior responds to his name and yanks on his horse’s reins, jerking the stallion my direction

I release the throwing knife. The weapon rotates through the air and collides with Hector’s chest.

My breath stills as the man’s familiar eyes widen and lower to the weapon protruding from his chest. Alarm spreads through my veins as the ground wobbles beneath my feet and the trees tilt.

No!

A scream wrenches from my throat as he reels forward, clutches feebly at his horse’s reins before losing his grip and plummeting from his mount. Dust kicks into the air as he lands on his side, and his stallion runs away.

Ash claws at my throat as I hurry to where he lies and roll him onto his back.

“Gabriel,” I say, his name raw against my throat.

This cannot be.

Please. Someone please.

This cannot be.

Spasms overcome me as I pitifully try to stifle the blood from the wound I inflicted. It pours between my fingers as the sky opens, spilling rain on us.

I chant quickly in the healing tongue of my people. It doesn’t work. The words aren’t there. The power isn’t there.

“Gabriel!” I scream into the wind.

The wind doesn’t answer. Nothing answers.

Silence throbs heavy between us.

He’s so still.

Too still.

Olah, have mercy.

I killed the wrong man!