Page 82 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

The sound of leaves crunching made us all turn, and I saw the light of three torches headed our way. Guards.

“Dianna, you have to go,” I said, keeping my voice low.

She nodded and placed her hand over mine, squeezing it once. “I’ll stay close, so please ask the guards to keep their hands to themselves, or I’ll burn this entire camp. Promise or not.” She glared at Orym.

I nodded and leaned forward to kiss her. I pulled back, and she smiled. Feathers replaced skin, and a bird as black as night took flight.

THIRTY-ONE

DIANNA

I yawned, stretching the sleek, feline form I wore this morning. My fur matched the foliage, spotted with rosettes of brown and gold. A small, furry creature with a long tail scampered by. It saw my paw and squealed, racing in the other direction. I placed my head on my paw, watching the camp rise. Guards yelled, and prisoners emerged from their tents to pack up before trudging toward the massive steel caravans.

The guards looked pissed, yelling and pushing at the prisoners. Lack of sleep seemed to be affecting them. The six-legged huroehe that pulled the wagons had been restless all night, calling and neighing in panic. They sensed me, and it sent them into a tizzy, but I didn’t care. I only cared about the god who had just stepped out of the tent a few feet from me.

I’d never tell him, well, maybe not too often, but he was so gorgeous, even covered in those ridiculous beige prisoner garbs. The thin fabric didn’t even begin to conceal the bulge of muscles straining over his powerful physique when he bent or moved. The sight of him set my blood on fire, and I wanted to lick every square inch of him. Of course, I couldn’t because he was also the nicest person in the fucking cosmos, which meant there he was again, offering help to the elf that stepped out next to him. Orym said he wanted to help his sister. A part of me felt that and could relate to him, but another darker part of me didn’t care. I trusted no one anymore, and no matter what he said, my instincts told me Samkiel was in danger.

Samkiel bent to roll up their knapsacks, and while I was annoyed at his effortless heroics, at least he had a nice butt. He looked up and said something to Orym as he helped him break down the tent. They walked to their caravan, two guards coming by to escort them and open the thick latch on the door.

I stood and stalked along the tree line, spotting a thick, heavy tree branch hanging over the top of their wagon. The powerful muscles in my back legs bunched, and I lunged, digging my claws deep into the bark. Birds took to the skies in a cluster, and I flattened my body against the limb. Everyone below looked up, searching the canopy and the sky. It took a few minutes, but the guards eventually shook their heads and turned away. Samkiel smiled softly as he spotted me and glanced away. He always saw me, no matter what form I took.

The two guards ushered Samkiel and Orym into the caravan before joining two other guards. I spied the small air hole in the top of the caravan and dove, shifting my form to shapeless mist. I slipped through the hole and appeared on the bench next to Orym, one leg crossed and my arm on the back of the seat.

“Gods above!” Orym snapped and grabbed his chest. “Can you all do that?”

“Only the really pretty ones,” I said, winking at Samkiel. He smiled at me with pride.

The guards on the outside of the caravan were just far enough away and too lost in conversation to hear us, even with the steel door partially open.

“You really are powerful.”

I cocked my head toward Orym. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re the one who saved him from dying, right?” Orym said, glancing at Samkiel.

I swallowed the lump in my throat along with the visions of the tunnel, the world ending, my world ending. I didn’t dare to look at Samkiel, not wanting him to see a hint of the apprehension and pain that lie inflicted every time I had to play along with it. My lips pressed into a thin line, and I reached across the caravan, popping Samkiel on the shoulder. He winced and rubbed his arm.

“Aggressive.” He smirked.

“I leave you alone for five minutes, and you tell everyone our secrets,” I seethed, narrowing my eyes at him.

Samkiel shook his head. “It was not like that. I saved him, and a part of my power slipped. He saw it, so I told him some minor details.”

“Minor details.” I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “You trust so easily.”

“What does that mean?” Orym asked.

I glared at him. “It means you tell him some sob story about how you and your sister need help to escape an evil ruler, and he helps because he’s sweet. I don’t buy it, no matter what you preach.”

“Dianna.” Samkiel moved as if to separate us.

“I did not tell a story. It’s true.”

Orym glanced at Samkiel as if seeking confirmation.

“I’m sure it is true. I’m sure you want to save each other, but the second something happens—she’s taken, or you’re blackmailed—you’ll switch sides and stab us both in the back.”

Orym stared at me, his face turning a shade darker, but the look in his eyes was one I’d seen a thousand times. It was the look of someone doing whatever they could to survive. He nodded and stood, clearly defeated and not wanting a fight.

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