Page 46 of Hunt the Dusk
“I’m well aware. But you have a bed and a blanket. Would you like to use my lap as a pillow?” He turned a page.
“No.”
“Very well, then hush.”
Ten fucking hours trapped in a carriage with him? What the heck had I signed up for?
Chapter 16
It was impossible to resist the sway of the carriage and rhythmic rumble of wheels, and I drifted off, waking with a literal jolt a short time later as the carriage come to a halt.
Ezekiel sat preternaturally still opposite me, his features wreathed in shadows, book abandoned on the seat beside him.
I was about to ask what was going on, but he held up a finger to silence me, canting his head to the side to listen to something I couldn’t hear.
I reached for my sword, tucked in its holster beneath my seat.
“Don’t,” Ezekiel said. “I’ll handle this.”
“Handle what?”
My nape went cold, and my scalp tightened in warning. Something was coming. Something was out there.
I reached for the drapes, intending to pull them back, and Ezekiel gripped my wrist. “Don’t do that. Don’t move. Stay here.” He reached for the door handle, and it was my turn to grab him.
“I’m your watcher. I’m here to protect you.” Amusement flickered across his face and the urge to punch him raced through me. “Do not underestimate me.”
“I won’t, as long as you don’toverestimateyourself. This is not something you can protect me from.” He pressed his lips together. “This is something that I must face. Alone. Stay here.”
“Come out, murderer.” A woman’s voice drifted into the carriage, echoey and haunting. “Face what you’ve done.”
What the heck? “Ezekiel…”
He smiled thinly. “Oh, look at you, worried about your king.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Only because I have to.”
“Of course.” He leaned in slightly, his breath warm on my cheek. “You’re just doing your job.” A shiver of anticipation rolled up my spine, and his mouth curved in a self-satisfied smile.
He swung out of the carriage before I could reply, slamming the door closed behind him.
I slid close to the window and tugged back the drape a little to peek out.
Ezekiel stood a few feet away, his back to the carriage as he faced off against a large group of people dressed in various styles of old-world clothing, but the one that stood out the most to me was a young woman dressed in a beautiful ball gown, hair up in an intricate style. She looked like a princess, but it wasn’t just her outfit that drew attention, it was her face—heart-shaped with a Cupid’s bow mouth and wide eyes fringed in inky lashes. She was a beauty, petite and delicate, except for the fire of hatred burning in her dark eyes.
“What do you want, Emelie?” Ezekiel asked.
“I want my life back,” the woman in the ball gown said. “We all do. But that can’t happen, and so we want you to join us.”
The moon chose that moment to peek out from cloud cover, lancing across the scene and straight through the people to highlight the forest beyond. My pulse skipped.
Damn. They were all ghosts.
“I’m sorry, but I must decline your offer,” Ezekiel said. “I have a prior engagement.”
“Do you believe this to be a jest?” Emelie said.
“Not at all. I believe that a century of death has made you delusional.”
