Page 30 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

Finally, when my teeth started to chatter, I asked, “So, is there more to this plan than just saving Baylis?”

Caiden clicked his tongue. “It’s not politically wise of me tokill Gideon in the Court of the Alder King. But… if you could cause him some pain with your mind…”

I raised my hand, cutting him short. “I hoped to never see Gideon again, but I owe you a debt for saving my life in Ryft’s Edge.”

Caiden shook his head. “I did it out of love. You owe me nothing.”

A lump rose in my throat, but I pushed it away. I hadn’t felt this much in a long time. Every part of me was raw. A clammy sweat still dampened my brow. I knew this day would come—the day I would have to give up my crutch. I didn’t think it would come this soon.

“Everything will be forgotten after we free Baylis.”He squeezed my hand.

I shut my eyes. Our debts would be erased along with his memory.

“Then why are you telling me this?”

Caiden turned, meeting my gaze. His blue eyes were full of warmth and my body relaxed.

“Because I understand you now, Aelia. I understand why you were so angry. Why you shut out the world. I don’t hate you, but I am ready to be rid of the memories haunting me.”

I understood what he meant. I had never encountered another telepath like me, but I would’ve asked them to wipe my mind if I had—would’ve paid any sum they asked.

Caiden and I walked in silence back to camp. No words to bridge the gap between us.

“Caiden?” I stopped outside of the salt circle. He turned to look back at me. His eyes red from tears. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

“I know,” he said, turning to lay by the embers of the fire, leaving me alone in the cold.

11AELIA

By the timewe reached Ruska, a healthy glow had returned to my face.

Home to humans and magus alike, the city overflowed with culture and character. Made rich by the Fates, at the height of their power, kings would send barges of gold to the city to curry their favor. Though few believers remained, the city still bustled with life.

Our horses’ hooves clicked on the cobblestones as we made our way into the heart of the city, passing through its many layers. Stone houses on the outskirts dated back thousands of years, while the affluent part of the city boasted huge granite and marble palaces.

“The Court of Storms has an embassy here for state visits,” Caiden said as we pulled our horses into the stable. “It’s around the corner.”

Large stalls filled with straw adorned with intricately carved wooden doors and chandeliers hung overhead. A lavish stable for the affluent of the city.

“How many days for the ’orses?” the elderly stable master asked as he looked over hisspreadsheet.

“At least three,” Caiden replied.

“One gold coin per day, per horse…” He tallied up our total, his fingers shaking with age.

Caiden plopped a sack of gold coins on the desk.

The man’s eyes widened. “Anything you need, sir, please let me know.” Humans were always kinder to others when they knew they had coin.

We left the stables and headed for the safe house, located down a long alley. Had it not been for two lanterns embellished with the crest of the Stormlands—a lightning bolt striking a single tree—I would have passed the place by.

Caiden ran a jeweled finger over the stone wall.

A door of solid, cold-pressed iron appeared. He tapped on the surrounding bricks, and the door swung open, revealing a plush townhome draped in linens of dark blue and silver. The colors of the Stormlands. After sleeping on the ground for several nights, I fought the urge to run to the nearest bed.

A small hobgoblin no bigger than a toddler with the face of a mouse appeared.

“Eek! Prince Caiden.” His whiskers twitched as he straightened his satin suit. Hobgoblins or “hobs” were household sprites known as much for their cleaning as their tricks.

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