Page 57 of The Cursed Kingdom

Mason tormenting Abby is not helping.

“I can hear a small stream up ahead,” Mason says. “But it’s not clean.”

“I don’t care,” is Abby’s quick reply.

She’s thirsty. Desperate.

Mason wouldn’t have spoken up about her urine if it weren’t serious, and I know he’s been monitoring it. Faeries and shiftershave better body regulation. We can go longer without substance and hydration, and we didn’t plan a stop this early in. We’ve had to make several adjustments to our carefully laid out plans, including hunting down that deer. Abby’s body is inefficient.

“We’re close to Traul River,” Mason explains. “She can make it.”

Abby makes a low noise in the back of her throat but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

Mason quickens his pace, passing Abby so he can walk alongside me. Her breath hitches as he does so, the human probably thinking this means we’re growing comfortable with her. I can tell she’s frustrated by being made to walk between us, but it’s not to keep an eye on her.

We can hear and smell her even when she’s out of sight, and one of us has been trailing behind only to cover her tracks. It’s a miracle no shifters caught her trail while she was wandering around by herself.

“We’ll need to be quick,” he murmurs. “My people rely heavily on the river, and several communities are built along it.”

My people. I nod, not addressing the slip of his tongue. Mason’s parents gave him up when our bond was discovered, publicly removing his claim to the coveted alpha title. The shifters are nothis people.

My mother insisted he be given the title ofprince, but it was done out of pity. I was too young to understand his devastation of being left behind by his family, abandoned to his enemy in an illusion of peace. His title was a gift, an effort to preserve the tiny bit of dignity the young shifter boy had left. I think it worked.

Mason sure as fuck thinks highly of himself.

“She’ll need to bathe, too,” Mason continues. “Her wounds are dirty, and I’m smelling the beginnings of infection.”

Well, fuck.That’s less than ideal. I don’t know how long it takes for an infection to kill a human, and I’m not particularly eager to find out.

“Doesn’t Traul River have water nymphs?” I ask.

The pesky critters have been eradicated from most, if not all, of the water sources inside my kingdom, but I’ve heard that they run rampant in the forest. They aren’t much of a threat to faeries or shifters, but I worry they’ll try to drag Abby under the water.

We’ll have to keep a close eye on her.

“She won’t be happy to bathe in front of us,” I say.

Mason shrugs. “Not my problem.” Nothing ever is.

Abby continues following us, thankfully out of hearing distance. I fear she’ll run if she catches wind of our plan to make her bathe. It’s rumored that the human realm is rampant with rape and abuse, and while those are problems many other realms struggle with, it’s not something we have many issues with here.

Matehood keeps my people in line. Nobody would accept a bond with a person convicted, or even suspected, of such a heinous crime. I doubt telling Abby my people don’t rape will bring her much comfort, though.

It would be too easy to lie about that, and she doesn’t trust me.

Mason and I continue forward, eager to reach the river before it gets too dark and Abby again refuses to walk.

“I think you should make yourself scarce,” I tell Mason.

Abby dislikes him more than she does me, and I hope she’ll make less fuss about bathing if he’s not around. I can be quite charming when I want to be, and I’m confident I’ll have good luck getting her to undress. It’s never been an issue for me.

Mason’s head snaps in my direction, but I avoid eye contact. He’s in a mood, and I don’t want to engage.

“No,” he says. “I’ll remain with you two.”

Of course he will.

Chapter Twenty-Two

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