Page 4 of Cursed Shadows 2

But he stays leaning against the tree. “Most litalf females can control it,” he argues, hints of laughter lightening his voice. “Otherwise this would be a brilliant strategy to distract your female warriors in battle. Just dust some useless prizes over the dirt—then watch them go crazy for the litter.”

Still, I am holding all the baubles, all my prizes, and I don’tknow where to set them down. I should have brought a basket, it would make it easier to take them home. Unless I bury them first, then I can come back tomorrow—but someone might steal them in that time.

For a moment, he watches me. His grin bares his teeth, and he drags his tongue over the top row as he considers me. “You can’t put them down, can you?”

I’ve never before felt heat like this on my face. I’m certain I’ve turned purple, not crimson. “Oh, be quiet,” I snap at him, but my panicked gaze is quick to sweep the area for a great burying spot.

His chuckle is soft, and he kicks from the tree.

Behind a long drape of the willow, he reaches down and snatches something. It’s only now I look to the grass there, where I see the frayed edge of something, perhaps a blanket or a rug.

If I wasn’t so consumed by the thoughts of my prizes, I would smile. Smile, because he seems to have made a picnic for me behind that leafy curtain.

Then I do smile. My face breaks into a grin as he lifts a basket from the grass and starts for me.

The smile playing on his lips is small, like he couldn’t be any more amused by me right now, and I want to die a little. Might bury myself with the treasures.

But there’s no need to get out a shovel. He brings the wicker basket to me, his eyes alight… alight with triumph. Bastard. He is triumphant, isn’t he? I’m the silly halfling that chased a trail through the woods, all for useless things. And though they are useless, I can’t set them down, I can’t forget them.

So I know he feels every bit the predator that caught the prey.

A slight against my people, he’s reminding me of my weaknesses, but in a way that comes with treasures.

I grunt an annoyed sound as he reaches me and holds out the basket. Leaning forward, I part my arms and let the treasures smack down to the wicker.

I relax instantly, my shoulders soothed, a sigh escaping my lips. I look up at him, at that smile I want to nip and lick. Andnow that the tension has eased enough, a lazy smile graces my lips and I lean up on my toes.

Daxeel’s grin is still very much in place as he leans down to meet the tallest height I can push myself up to. He plants a tender kiss on my waiting lips.

Moments like these are when I feel the difference, feel what is behind his kiss, his love, because to others when we sit together at lessons, or see each other outside of these private moments, he is silent, maybe distant—and he is lethal. But he affords me small fleeting smiles that make me feel like the only person in existence.

I’m starkly aware of a horrible truth.

My love for him burns so hot that the gods can surely feel it—and it’s utterly irrevocable.

3

††††††

Pandora came to my bedchamber at the break of the Warmth.

For a while, I pulled the furs over my head and ignored the incessant knocking. It went on too long, until I had little choice but to crack open the door and peer out at her through puffy, bloodshot eyes.

‘Let me train you.’

That’s all she managed to say before I slammed the door on her face.

Train me. That’s a laugh. The only time I’ve handled weapons is when I’ve played with Eamon’s dupe daggers. I can step into that first passage with a weapon strapped to every bit of my body, and still not stand a chance against a fae warrior.

I’m going to need a lifetime of weapons and combat training shoved into two weeks if I have any chance of surviving this… this torture she threw me to.

So I avoid her. Just as I avoid father.

The wicked, cruel, violent thoughts I have about them…

I shudder to think how I will react if they do manage to corner me.

I do now what I think best. Surround myself with others.

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