Page 18 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

She bared her teeth at him.

Brutus clicked his tongue at her. “Not so fast, little mermaid. Remember our deal.”

Wiping the blood from her mouth, Ursula picked herself up from the floor. “You’re an asshole. I should kill you for that.” Her nostrils flared, their faces nearly touching.

“Oh, little fish, if you kill me, who will pay you?” He dangled a pouch of gold in front of her.

Snatching the pouch, she stomped out of the room.

“Alright, where is he?” I asked once Ursula left.My head buzzed, and my vision blurred.

“He’s busy.” A deviant smile crossed his face, sending a shiver down my spine.

I braced for the impact of his fist. Years of pent-up anger were released in one swing, and it landed like a hammer. Spitting blood onto the decaying wood floor, I tried to focus my vision, but the room spun around me.

“That was for making me look foolish.”

“You didn’t need my help with that.”A bloody smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

Hatred burned in his blue eyes.

“Where is my sister?”

“Oh, she is a fair thing, isn’t she? My king has a special place in his heart for her.” His dialect resembled the royalty of the Highlands, but if you listened closely, you could hear the slums in his words.

A pit opened in my stomach. “If you’ve laid a finger on her, I will?—”

“Shh—I promise she’s in excellent hands.” He leaned in close to me. The acrid smell of mead seeped from his lips.

Bile bubbled in my throat.

“Let’s go, little bird.” Hauling me to my feet, he pulled me along behind him. I rattled the chains.

I needed to get out of here.

Three of them versus one of me, and I had no magic.

The iron mixed with the dust in my veins, making my feet clumsy. Why did I have to take dust? Why was I such a colossal fuck up? Why did I do this to myself?

We wove our way through the docks. Brutus’s torch cast a pitiful glow. Two of Gideon’s guards flanked me. Their swords clinked at their sides. At this time of night, the docks were empty. Even the salt traders had gone to bed. No one would hear me scream.

Frantically, I searched for some way to escape. Massive crates filled with salt and fish lined the docks—an idea formed in my mind. Brutus may have had training against telepaths, but the other men didn’t. If I could get inside one of their minds, I could possibly get him to free me. Damn, these iron cuffs.

Dead-eyed, the men plodded along with stoic faces. Something was off about them, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Glassy eyes usually indicated a glamour, but these were soldiers. What reason could he have for glamouring them?

Brutus rounded the corner ahead, leaving me a millisecond to enact my plan.

I ducked left down a row of cargo crates. Then right down another, hoping to lose them.

“Hey, stop,” the soldiers yelled.

“Get her!” The sound of Brutus’s heavy footsteps scrapped across the frozen snow.

I ran down another aisle. They were stronger and faster than me, but I had the element of surprise on my side.

Concealed in shadow, I wedged between two crates and listened for the men’s footsteps.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, one of them drew near. I tightened the chains of my manacles and held my breath.

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