Page 30 of Kept to Kill
‘Yes,’ she said in a small voice, ‘thank you.’
‘How long did you say I had? Two days?’
‘At most,’ she replied, her shoulders slumping.
‘It wasn’t your fault.’ He grasped her shoulders and she gasped, trying to pull away.
‘Don’t,’ she pleaded.
‘I’m not going to touch,’ he promised with a sigh, ‘but truly, I don’t blame you. If I die, I don’t want you taking on guilt for it.’ He gave her shoulder a pat. ‘Because I can see that you will. It weighs heavily on you, your gift.’
‘Curse,’ she corrected.
He grinned in the dark. ‘Perhaps.’
He urged her ahead of him, ignoring her gasp as his hand moved to the small of her back. ‘Did no one ever touch you while you were with Vineri,’ he asked, ‘not even when they were sure that both you and they were covered?’
‘Never,’ she said and he gaped, glad no one could see his ungodly expression. How many years had she gone without a hug, an embrace, any touch at all save when she was killing? Ten? Twelve? Even a god would probably go mad. It was a wonder she hadn’t hurled herself from the window of her tower, he thought, a surge of compassion flowing through him. He blinked. When had he last felt sympathy for anyone, god or mortal? He didn’t know, but it had been a very, very long time.
They emerged from the trees to a small fire and two rabbits roasting. Where the fuck had those come from so quickly?
As if reading his thoughts, Mal appeared next to them, making him jump and curse his Brother to the darkest realms imaginable. Mal ignored him, of course, though his eyes lingered on the woman, Bastian noticed, while pretending not to.
If Lily observed Mal’s prolonged gaze, she didn’t let on, however, sitting down close to the fire and murmuring her thanks to Quin for the clothes.
He sat close by, the heat welcome in the cold winter air. ‘How far have we come?’ he asked Quin, knowing the man had made this journey several times in the past.
‘We’re past the mountains. It’s not ideal, but there may be a half day’s trek tomorrow before we make the forest. After that, two or three more days on foot to the nearest sizable town.’
Bastian nodded absently, rooting around in his pack for a wineskin. Not finding one, he made a sound of disgust and, when he saw Lily watching from the corner of her eye, pulled out his bedroll instead and pretended that was what he’d been looking for all along.
‘Is no one going to say anything about what happened?’ she asked.
‘What do you want us to say?’ Quin asked her, his eyes fixing on hers.
She held his unwavering gaze ‘Well, Bastian told us there had been a portal breach beneath the sea and then the ship got attacked by that— thatcreature. It was Dark Realm. It came across the bridge.’ She turned to Bastian. ‘You told me that was impossible. You said there are wards to stop that from happening.’
‘It should be impossible,’ he ground out, not wanting to talk to any of them about this.
To his surprise, Quin interjected. ‘Itwasimpossible. Therewerewards. But everyone who’s ready to see the truth knows that they are failing and have been since the first gate collapse – what, six, seven winters ago?’
Across the fire, Mal nodded.
‘But why?’ Lily asked. ‘What’s making them fail?’
Quin shrugged. ‘The king has scholars devoted to the task of finding out. But the truth is, the portals have existed since before records began. No one knows where they came from, only that someone or something is destroying them and they need someone to blame.’
Lily looked confused. ‘Someone to blame?’
Bastian cocked a brow. ‘Why do you think everyone keeps going on about witches? Killing anyone accused?’
Quin looked grim and he gave Lily a pointed look. ‘Now that we’re in the north, we’re too far from the Army for it to be any use to us. You don’t speak about what you can do with anyone. Do you understand, girl? If anyone suspects anything, they’ll have your head cleaved from your shoulders before you can scream or you’ll be thrown in the king’s dungeon to await death.’
* * *
Lily shivered. ‘I understand,’she muttered, staring at the ground. ‘I touched Bastian,’ she blurted, and he turned to look at her with a growl that made her cringe.
‘What?’ If Quin’s cutting tone could wound, it would have.
