Page 87 of The Cursed Kingdom

IT’S HOURS BEFORE the rain ultimately lets up, and by the time we’re finally crawling out from underneath the tarp, the sun is just beginning to rise behind the trees.

I’m exhausted to my bones, and I don’t bother hiding it as I stand on shaky legs and drink the remainder of the water I’ve managed to collect. It isn’t much, only a third of the container, but it’s better than nothing.

“Well, that was eventful,” Kie says.

He’s met with silence.

Mason hasn’t spoken in a long time, just the way I like it, and I haven’t, either. There isn’t anything to say, and it seems that whenever I do speak, it only gets me in trouble. Especially when Mason’s taken it upon himself to read into my every word.

“How are you feeling?” Kie continues.

I assume he’s talking to Mason, but when I notice it’s me he’s staring at, I shrug and turn away. He doesn’t honestly care, and I’m not in the mood to entertain him. I’m barely functioning, and anybody with half a brain can see that.

Kie clears his throat, trying to draw my attention. He’s probably not used to people ignoring him.

I’m sure when he’s in his fancy royal estate, everybody rushes to do whatever he commands. This is likely the only time in his life he’s had to work for something, and even then, all he’s doing is walking through a forest so he can beg some god for…something. I don’t even know what he wants from Zaha, nor do I care.

The faeries are pompous, little assholes, and the shifters are grade-A douchebags. I haven’t had the misfortune of meeting a troll yet, but I assume they won’t be pleasant, either.

Mason begins putting away the tarp Kie set up last night, and I pick chunks of dried mud off my skin and clothes. I’m covered in it, so much that it feels heavy. Under normal circumstances, I'd want to wash it off, but after the river incident, I’m happy to continue the rest of this trip covered in filth. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever voluntarily undress in front of these two, and if I smell, that’s their problem.

Kie mumbles something to Mason, but he’s ignored.

I can’t lie and say I don’t enjoy watching it happen. I bet this is the first time Kie’s ever been so thoroughly ignored, and I’m pleased I get to witness it.

Kie huffs. “This is ridiculous.”

He rummages through his pack and pulls out the dried meat he and Mason have been eating. Well, the remainder of it. I helped myself to a significant amount while he was stitching up Mason’s side.

“It’s safe to talk now that we aren’t in the shifter lands,” Kie says.

Does he not realize safety isn’t the reason why I’m not speaking?

Silence stretches, and Kie sighs. Deep down inside, a small part of me feels bad for him. He hasn’t gone out of his way to make me as miserable as Mason has, but he’s getting treated just the same.

Actually, now that I think about it, hedoesdeserve to be treated the same way. He’s the one who decided to gift me to a fucking god. That alone says much about who he is, and he doesn’t deserve my pity.

Mason throws something in my direction, and I scramble to catch the wraps I’ve been using on my knees. The skin looks terrible, but the fresh air was good for them. Dark scabs are growing in nicely.

I give them a quick wrap before shoving everything into my backpack and throwing it over my shoulders.

Despite knowing I’d regret it forever if I didn’t try to escape, I still feel ashamed. Getting caught in such a sad state was embarrassing, and I’m trying hard not to think about how pathetic I must seem to these two.

I’ve never considered myself to be a pathetic person before.

“How about a truce?” Kie blurts out.

I wish he’d stop talking.

He enters my line of sight and gestures between Mason and me. The shifter is standing several feet away, but I’ve been excellently pretending he doesn’t exist.

“Mason will promise to be kinder to you,” Kie starts, “if you promise to stop running away.”

I shrug, not wanting to be the first one to acknowledge Kie, before sneaking a glance at Mason. He’s pulled up his shirt and is prodding at his ribs, not paying attention to either of us. I can’t help but stare at the wound on his abdomen.

It’s mostly healed, and my jaw drops as he rips out the last of his stitches. This isn’t right, and I swallow down bile as I eye the dark-pink scar covering the area where his guts were exposed just a couple of days prior.

If humans could heal from such severe injuries in only a day or two, I can’t even begin to imagine how different we’d be. We’d be unstoppable.

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