Page 34 of The Fated and the Damned
Nora stroked her daughter’s cheek, the simple gesture full of love and adoration, and then she disappeared among the throng of witches.
I reclined on the log, happy just to have my girl in my arms and a quiet moment together. There hadn’t been much time for stillness since Sylvie’s resurrection, and we hadn’t been alone at all apart from the night in the temple … and the chamber below it where I’d found Kitarni, Caitlin and the girl.
Kitarni was almost too silent, which was never a good sign. She always had a million thoughts running through her brain, which meant she was plotting or worrying. If I had to take a wild guess, I’d pick the latter.
My hand trailed up and down her leg, shifting closer to the junction of her thighs, then scraping along the sensitive skin above her pants. She gasped, arching into me.
“Dante, everyone will see,” she said breathily, giggling girlishly as she glanced at the witches camped several metres away.
“Mm, maybe the idea of that turns me on." I slipped a finger down her pants and inside her, finding her already so wet for me. “Maybe it turns you on too.”
She batted my hand away with a warning glare, then turned to face me, her eyes glimmering with excitement. “That’s off limits tonight. We’ve got something else to do.”
“Does it involve ravaging you against a nearby tree?” I said quietly.
Her lips curved into a devious smile, one that I instantly recognised as scheming. “Not quite.” She was silent for a beat, and when she spoke, her words sent an ominous chill down my spine. “I think I know how to test our theories, but you’re not going to like it.”
I pressed a kiss to her lips, moving my hands up to feel the delicate column of her neck. “Tell me.”
She took a deep breath. “You and I are going to have a chat with a certain horseman. It’s time we met with Death.”
FIFTEEN
Kitarni
Mybootsweresilenton the forest floor as Dante, András and I wound our way over sleeping bodies and past the personal belongings of the witches. There wasn’t much. What little they could grab was tied up in rucksacks, their entire life packed away in one bag. The sight of the few precious children tucked tightly into their mamas’ arms sent a sharp pang through my chest.
Letting the town burn to ensure their safety was a small price to pay, but it didn’t make the decision any easier. The knowledge that they’ll have a roof over their head and food in their bellies from a life lived in Mistvellen helped, but there would be some who begrudged me for uprooting their lives and bringing about change.
Some who would cling to old traditions and past principles that I no longer wished to uphold. Not when it broke up families, and certainly not when it prevented women from reaching their full potential. What’s the point of being part of a female only coven when the very rules and regulations strip us of our greatness?
András nudged my arm, pointing to a gap in the trees surrounding us, and I changed my direction, aiming for the veil of darkness not splintered by the light of crackling torches dotted around the camp.
It was hard not to wrinkle my nose at the stench that climbed my nostrils the deeper we tread. A decay that clung, gripping on for dear life and never letting go. András frowned as he evaded dripping branches and mouldy logs.
“Remind me again why we’re travelling deeper into this godsforsaken place?”
I elbowed him, teasing, “Afraid of getting your fancy pants dirty?”
He looked at me blankly, his brow rising. “They’re expensive and they make my ass look impeccable. Why would I? Some of us take care of our clothing, instead of shredding it like beasts.”
My cheeks heated at his insinuation, because yes, back in the temple when Dante and I had been together, clothes were the furthest thing on my mind. Dante smirked at me, clearly enjoying my embarrassment, and I huffed as I focused on avoiding a particularly gruesome rock pulsing with black veins.
Beyond the rock the woods opened to a small clearing, nestled in between trees bunched closer together which would grant us privacy—or protection from any creatures looking for a snack. It would put us in overly familiar proximity to Death, but it was a risk I was willing to take. He still needed me, after all.
As if he read my mind, András asked, looking around warily, “Just how do you propose we summon him if we don’t have the spell?”
“When I was younger, on theElátkozottak Napja, Death visited our home, seeking the blood of witches.”
András cocked his head, a few blond curls falling into his eyes. “Like he does every year on the Day of the Cursed, right? I’ve heard the stories. But I thought he couldn’t harm you if you had the proper spells in place.”
“True, but Eszter, innocent as she was, ran out to protect the livestock. When I ran after her, I found Death in the barn. He warned me about the lies—about the banya.” I shook my head, thinking back to that night long ago. “He’d practically handed me the truth about Baba Yaga, and I’d been too clueless to understand what he’d meant. He knew all along who the banya really was.”
“Gods great and small do so love their riddles,” Dante grumbled. I noted his hands flexing, as though he was itching for the pommels of his blades, the soldier in him responsive and ready should danger approach.
That would all depend on Death’s mood. And to think I could have been using a cleaner, more comfortable clearing for something far more enjoyable. The thought only soured my mood and made me clench my legs together.
“So he let Eszter go and then what?” András asked, his curiosity piqued. “You’re still alive, which means he mustn’t have been too peckish that night.”
