Page 59 of The Cursed Kingdom

“I will,” he says.

No. No, he won’t.

I glance between the two, knowing I need to decide.

If I run, Mason will shift into his animal form and chase me down. I’m not confident I’ll come out of that alive, but I won’t sit here and let thembatheme. I know what happens after that.

Both Mason and Kie stiffen, their movements so subtle, I wouldn’t notice if it weren’t for how intently I’m paying attention. Kie seems focused, but Mason looks excited. I bet he wants me to run. He’s looking for any reason to kill me.

I should scream. I could attract the shifters and trolls, give away our location, and we’d all die. It’s starting to feel like that’s the best outcome, so I might as well bring Kie and Mason down with me.

I don’t know anything about faerie politics, but I’m sure the people will be better off without the princes.

I shift my weight from foot to foot, still debating my next move.

“Abby…” Kie coos.

He speaks to me like you would a frightened animal, which isn’t helping his cause.

I shake my head, not trusting my voice. I amnotbeing bathed.

Mason rolls his shoulders, probably preparing to lunge or transform into his animal form. The movement triggers my fight or flight, and before I have time to process what I’m doing, I’m spinning on my heel and taking off.

I don’t even make it a complete step before being grabbed from behind, an arm wrapping around my waist and halting my escape. Only the very beginnings of a scream bubble up and out of my throat when a gloved hand clasps over my mouth to keep me silent, and I kick out my feet and attempt to bite as I’m pulled back against a hard chest.

Whoever grabbed me hardly seems to struggle with my fight, but that doesn’t stop me.

Blood rushes through my ears, and my knees burn as my fighting rips open my still-fresh wounds. The pain is intense, like a hot poker being shoved into open flesh, but adrenaline has the pain falling to the back of my mind.

I grab and rip at the hand covering my mouth, attempting to pry it away, but it doesn’t work.

“Lehmego!” My words come out a jumbled, muffled mess.

There’s movement on my right, and I shrink up as Mason enters my line of sight. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the wavy, dark strands out of his face, before stepping closer. For once, he doesn’t look cocky, and he refuses to make eye contact with me as he grabs the bottom of my sweatshirt and T-shirt and pulls up.

The fabric gets caught on Kie’s arm, but the two effortlessly work together to rid me of the clothing. I try to scream during the brief second Kieran removes his hand from my mouth, but he’s too quick. His gloved palm is slapped back over my face in a heartbeat.

Tears stream down my cheeks, making it hard to see, but every attempt I make to blink them away is unsuccessful. I’m crying too much, and I sob into Kie’s hand as Mason reaches for my bottoms.

He left my sports bra in place, but it brings no comfort.

My leggings are yanked down next, my underwear getting caught and pulled in the process. I clench my thighs together, trying to stop their descent, and Mason lets out a muffled curse before grabbing the sides of my underwear and ripping them back up.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” he grits out. “Stop crying.”

I respond by trying to kick him in the balls. I’m unsuccessful, considering my leggings are trapped around my ankles, making it impossible to spread my legs far enough to land the kick.

Mason grabs my knee, his gloved fingers curling around the bandage before he roughly shoves my foot to the ground. He kneels a second later and rips off my shoes and socks, and the moment they’re removed, Kie’s dragging me toward the river.

I attempt to dig my heels against the ground and slow him, but I’m largely ineffective.

Kie continues holding me captive against his chest as he walks us into the river. His grip is tight, giving me no opportunity to break free, even as the frigid water brushes against my waist. My feet slip against the smooth rocks, but Kie doesn’t seem to have the same issue as he pulls us farther in, continuing until it’s up to my shoulders.

“The wash,” Kie says.

He sounds calm, in control, and I fucking hate it.

Mason remains on the shore, all our bags piled together by his feet. He must’ve gathered them while Kie was dragging me into the water, and he reaches into one and pulls out a small disposable bar of soap. It’s nearly identical to what was in the park bathroom back in Farbay, but I don’t get a good look before he tosses it to Kie.

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