Page 79 of Cursed Shadows 2

I cast a fleeting look over my shoulder at Taroh. And sincehe hasn’t moved an inch, moaned or uttered an insult, I suspect he was knocked out cold on landing.

We leave him behind in the lane.

We pass the edge of the town, where the steed barns are lined against the trees, and we make for the hill ahead.

It’s at the birth of the path that Rune silently offers me a washed rag.

I take it without a word of thanks, feeling the soft material beneath the warmth of its dampness. A rag he must keep on him to wipe off blood after a phase on the battle blocks.

I dab at my lip.

“You make a habit of this,” Rune decides, his golden hair tugged up into a bun. It bobs slightly with his steps.

Holding the cloth to my swollen mouth, my words come out muffled, “Being attacked by Taroh?”

“Making enemies,” he says. “Getting yourself into trouble. You seem to have a knack for it.”

I mull on it for a moment.

Assuming he knows nothing about my spat with Aleana last Quiet, or the trouble with Melantha this Warmth, he’s still right. He’s observed enough of me now, heard enough, to know I’ve made enemies all over the place, with my betrothed, with my beloved, with my sister, and my own father.

More than that, at the root of these troubles… is me. Not that it’s all my fault, but that my own decisions bring me to the fights. I am a catalyst for them—it’s not that they simply happen to me.

Even Pandora…

My heart sinks as the image flashes in my mind, my hand holding a quill, signing my name on parchment—and if I had never done this, if I had denied Pandora, then I wouldn’t be in half this trouble.

Or even with Taroh, how I reject him, all the while knowing I can’t take him in a fight, that my only hope is to either outrun him or have a sneaky blade in my boot he wouldn’t know anything about.

“Maybe,” I think aloud, but with my lips swelling more with each passing second, it’s getting harder to speak, “I’m not submissive enough, given I can’t hold my own in a fight.”

He turns a frown on me, a question, maybe a gleam of curiosity.

“Both our kinds,” I explain, “value violence. Whether it’s for war or dominance. The weaker one should submit, right?” I throw a look up at him, at the now thoughtful frown on his face as he considers me. “Except I so rarely want to submit. I defend myself with words and actions… and that gets me in trouble, because I can’t fight my way out.”

He’s only quiet for a moment. “You can’t fight at all?”

I shake my head, loose strands of chestnut waves smacking my cheek. This mop atop my head is too tangled, I need to oil it a while before I hit the washroom. And I have a bunch of wounds to treat. I’ve got a tiring phase ahead of me.

“Father wanted a lady.” That’s the only answer I give. I don’t add that I never wanted to, that if father had made me fight, I would’ve screamed and cried and fled.

“Your father failed you.” Rune speaks with conviction, with absolute faith in his opinion, like it’s fact and nothing less. “Now you must depend on decency from others to spare you from those sorts of attacks. Not everyone will save you.”

I nod because I know this.

Light or dark, it’s irrelevant. There are bad males of both, then the ones who will stand by or ignore, and then the ones who will fight. In all races, it’s the individual that makes the difference.

“Aleana can’t fight,” I say as we pass the boulders.

Gameboards are still scattered all over the dried and dead grass, but no fae around. A lot of them will be resting now that the Sacrament is next phase, and the others will be hungover.

Ones like Rune make the effort to get some more practice in on the battle blocks. That’s what he dressed for, at least, the leathers and the daggers strapped to his waist, the holsters on his thighs, and even the sagging bun to keep his hair back.

His cat eyes are glued ahead—but his lips purse and it gives him away. “Aleana is sickly,” he says.

I lift the damp cloth to my temple and pat away the streaks of blood. “Is that why you don’t make a move?”

His eyes flash and swerve to me. But he doesn’t break the slowed pace uphill, slowed for me to keep up.

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