Page 54 of The Cursed and the Broken
Dante blinked, the muscles in his neck quivering in anger. His gaze was thunderous, dangerous. He took a step back, opened his mouth, closed it again, as if thinking better.
He looked at me then with a strange expression in his eyes. Something like sadness or pity and for a moment I wondered if I’d shattered whatever peace we’d started to build.
“I know you’re lying about what happened in the woods,” he said coolly, crossing his arms. “And fine, I won’t push, but if your secrets place us in danger, you will answer to me, witch.”
Red misted at my fists, swirling up my arms like serpents. The power coiled around my body, ready to strike with merely a thought. I couldn’t be around him now. He had a way of getting under my skin and my rage was doing that well enough on its own, begging to be unleashed.
“Get out,” I said quietly.
He stood his ground, refusing to move an inch. “You want someone to blame for your problems? Look outside.” He lifted his arm, jabbing a pointed finger at the world beyond these four walls. “Your enemies are out there, waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness. I know you’re angry at your bloodline, your power, your duty, but we’re in this together. Don’t push away the only lifeline you’ve got.”
Nostrils flaring, I took two steps towards his chest, peering up into his stupidly handsome face. Everything he said was true and I hated it. Hated what Fate required of me, hated that I couldn’t let Dante in, hated that he knew I was so alone in this life.
Hated, hated, hated.
And so I said the words I knew would win this fight. “Why would I want to be on the arm of someone so weak? Someone who can’t save his men from a mere handful of enemies? Perhaps you should focus your efforts where they’re needed, Dante. They’re certainly not wanted here.”
I turned away, not wanting to see the expression cross his face, but I could only imagine the hurt I might find in his eyes. I’d been cruel and such unkindness found a way to burrow into the cracks of the soul. I knew he’d already be punishing himself for tonight, cursing himself for not being fast enough, strong enough, wise enough, to save those men.
It wasn’t his fault. All had been silent. All had been well. Even the most watchful of guards couldn’t have avoided a lidérc’s snare.
Dante’s footsteps sounded, the door clicking ever so softly behind him as he entered the night. I blinked back the tears threatening to spill over my cheeks. I’d said I’d make his world hell.
It seemed I was fulfilling that promise, only it didn’t feel as good as I’d thought.
Reality was so much worse.
TWENTY-TWO
I was sitting in thearmchair, book in hand and Laszlo at my feet, warming my toes while he stretched by the fire when Dante returned. Dante must have kept him locked inside earlier. The poor thing must have been terrified.
The lazy dog looked up, staring at Dante momentarily before dropping like a deadweight to the floor.
He really was a useless guard dog.
Dante had been gone for what felt like hours, but it was little more than one. I’d cried for a while before picking my sorry ass up and pacing the chamber. Slowly, my anger had dissipated, but still the power lingered, scratching at the surface. It was better I’d sent Dante away. I had been so close to slipping—dangerously volatile. He wouldn’t have let me out of his sight had I left the cabin, so hurting him …
I’d had no choice.
After wearing tracks into the floor, fretting over my behaviour, I’d finally decided to read. It was an adventurous tale, filled with scandalously dirty romance and a dashing prince. A perfect escape from reality. I hadn’t packed the book myself, but found it jammed into my pack, wrapped carefully in a tunic so as not to bend or scratch.
My heart had warmed. I knew without a doubt Eszter had packed it. She was always so thoughtful. Maybe she knew I’d need a little fantasy in my life. To live in someone else’s shoes for a while.
Gods bless that girl.
I’d found a skin of wine stashed within the musty cupboards in the kitchen and filled a goblet to the rim. The heavy-bodied red had warmed my insides, dulling the keen edge of my anger. It had also made me drowsy so close to the fire. I’d been rereading the same sentence repeatedly, still too guilt-ridden to focus yet too emotional to sleep. Thoughts of my throat being slashed or my blood being drained in a cult ritual kept haunting me. Would they drain me like they had Hanna and the others? Would they feed from me like vampires or simply suck the soul from my skin like the harbinger himself?
But worse than that I’d kept picturing Dante’s face when I’d blamed him for the loss of his men. It was cruel and cold. And I hated it.
Wordlessly, he poured himself a cup and sat down on the sofa, scrubbing a hand over his face. His cheeks were flushed, brown hair tousled, but his eyes were dark. Filled with a lingering anger. I suspected it was more at himself than me. There was much to learn about Dante, but I knew he felt the deaths of his men keenly. They weren’t just his soldiers, they were friends. Brothers.
A pang of sorrow cleaved through my chest. When he caught me watching him, he stared me square in the eye. Unyielding.
I straightened, squaring my jaw, opening my mouth to speak.
“What happened tonight?” he asked quietly before I could get a word out.
Clenching my teeth, I looked away, silent for a moment. “Everything.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn’t push. I closed my eyes, feeling the heaviness settle over me. When I could bear the silence no longer, I asked, “Who’s going to tell their families?”
