Page 52 of Of Curses and Beauty

The sound of the guard’s footsteps halted. Even Daric paused his attack as though weighing his chances. He had to consider that it had been hundreds of years since he’d last fought another person. Alaine knew the odds were stacked against him, knew also that he wouldn’t risk her life. She saw the moment he decided to stand down and offered him a small smile of understanding.

“We had a deal,” Baxter hissed in her ear.

She twisted her head away, wishing she could wipe away the feel of his breath on her ear. “It would seem, Lord Baxter, that if you want to hold to our deal, you owe my family a very large sum of money.” She thought she had him. Surely she wasn’t worth such a cost.

Baxter laughed, a joyless, hollow sound. “You want money? I’ll give you money. You’ll certainly not get any from your lost prince over there.”

A muscle in Daric’s jaw feathered, but he remained silent, leaving her to fight her own battle unless she called on him.

“I would rather have nothing than be married to you and have all the wealth in the world.” She smiled despite her current predicament. This was not a battle she would allow Baxter to win.

“If it is nothing you want, it is nothing you shall get,” he snarled. “I’ll take everything you ever had, starting with your beauty, so that no other man shall be ensnared by your temptation.”

The hand around her middle disappeared and she redoubled her escape efforts, twisting her hips and clawing at the arm that still held her. Though her efforts earned her a roar from Baxter, his grip on her did not falter. Spots danced in her vision and she kicked out with her feet, scrabbling for purchase as she fought for air.

The sound of a blade sliding free of its sheath was too near to be that of Daric’s or the guards. She froze and felt her panic rising as Baxter pressed a dagger to the skin of her cheek. The cold steel glinted a hairsbreadth below her eye, candlelight reflecting off the polished surface.

Daric shouted something, his words incoherent around the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. She tried to call out to him, but her lungs refused to supply enough air to give voice to her words. Her panting gasps turned to silent sobs as he pressed the knife harder into her skin. She couldn’t be sure if blood or tears leaked down her face, but she did know that she was done being the victim.

Chapter 46

Daric

DaricknewthemomentBaxter abandoned reason. Blood trickled down Alaine’s cheek from the knife he’d pulled on her—on the woman he claimed to desire, the woman he came tomarrytoday. Already Daric’s blood sang with all the wicked things he wanted to do in retaliation, but he bided his time for the sake of Alaine, for the sake of her precious light that didn’t deserve to be extinguished.

The Magistrate was useless, Alaine’s father little better, though at least he had the decency to stand between his fallen wife and the madman that held their daughter at knifepoint.

The guards at Baxter’s back were his best bet, but even they hesitated at the risk to Alaine. Daric cocked his head to the side, catching the gaze of the closest guard and signaling to spread out with a subtle flick of his wrist.

With Baxter’s focus completely on Alaine, the two guards crept closer, hands on their sword pommels, prepared to draw. Daric held his ground, but bent his knees, shifting his weight into his toes. He wanted to be prepared to spring for Alaine as soon as the guards attacked.

As if sensing the danger at his back, Baxter bared his teeth. Daric saw the muscles in his arm tense as he prepared to strike his final blow.

Pulling his blade free from the sheath at his hip, Daric lunged. He held his blade high, ready to plunge into Baxter and damn whatever consequences if it meant freeing Alaine.

At the last moment, he banked sideways, barely missing Eudora as she appeared seemingly from thin air. He staggered several steps until he regained his footing and watched mutely as the witch approached Alaine and her captor with naught but a single rose in her outstretched hand.

Baxter eyed Eudora warily, shoving the blade beneath Alaine’s chin. Her throat bobbed against the cutting edge. Though she closed her eyes against the mounting horrors, she did not cry out.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His words were for the witch, but he continued to monitor Daric and the guards, bracing for another attack.

With the knife now threatening her life, Daric was loath to move against him. A small head shake had the guards standing down as well. They wouldn’t risk killing her in the process of apprehending Baxter.

“A gift, for the bride,” said Eudora cryptically.

Baxter tensed, hackles raised at the perceived threat as her tentative steps brought her closer. The world held its breath as the witch paused mid-stride, the rose a mere handbreadth from kissing the knife at Alaine’s throat.

“It is but a rose, my lord. What is it you fear from a simple flower? Its beauty? The fragility of its transient existence that begs it to be plucked before it decays? Or perhaps it is the thorns that trouble you. How dare the rose protect itself from those who seek to claim its beauty as their own.”

Slowly, as though unconscious of his movements, Baxter lowered the knife. It was not enough to free herself, but Alaine shuddered at the reprieve. She exhaled slowly through her mouth, careful to keep her body as far from the blade as possible.

Baxter chuckled, a dark, mirthless laugh as he lifted his chin in indignation. “I am not afraid of a rose, you fool.”

Eudora dared yet another step forward, lowering the rose as though handing it to Alaine. It disappeared from Daric’s view as it dipped below her shoulders and he fought the desire to reposition himself.

“Then you won’t mind me giving this one to Ms. Martan.” It wasn’t a question and Eudora didn’t wait for Baxter’s response before her arm shot forward.

Alaine’s eyes flicked to him over Eudora’s shoulder, equal parts bravery and fear reflected in their dark depths.

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