Page 136 of Cursed Shadows 5

I ponder it all, mull it in my mind, over and over.

I sometimes wonder if I had acted quicker, stabbed Daxeel the moment I heard Mother, then would Niamh have been drawn by fate to the lane sooner? Would she have arrived quick enough to heal Eamon?

Rune’s large hand comes down on my shoulder. His grip is firm, a reassurance that does little to soothe the anguish bubbling in me.

“Do you know who they were?”

“Bounty killers,” I say, and lift my frown to him. “They must have accepted Lord Braxis’s bounty in life, and when he died, his estate still pays old debts. Me, Eamon, Daxeel—we are old debts.”

“They were skilled,” Rune tells me, then runs his tongue along his sharp teeth. “Amateurs wouldn’t wait that long, their impatience would derail them.”

My voice is small, a faint whisper. “But why Eamon? Why take him to the afterlife—not me? Not just Daxeel. Eamon was… pure.”

Rune sighs a curt sound. “It could have been any of us. The slights exchanged expanded to us all. To Eamon when he came to your aid in the garrison; to me when I knocked out Taroh in Kithe—” My throat thickens at the reminder, a flashing assault of the memory, Taroh smacking me around that alleyway before Rune chased down my shouts. “—and to Daxeel when Taroh went missing. He never said to me he was responsible, but Daxeel and Dare together…” He shakes his head, that grim twist still wrangled onto his mouth. “We each made our choices, Nari, just as you would have made your choice to protect Eamon ifhe was the victim. The brutalities of a wicked male are not your crimes to wear.”

A damp trail runs down my cheek.

I swallow, thick and wet, then let a whooshing breath escape me.

‘The brutalities of a wicked male are not your crimes to wear.’

No one has said that to me. No one has told me that this isn’t my fault.

I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that.

The tears run down my cheeks, tugging in at my pinched mouth, a mouth that trembles.

I shudder in a breath that rattles my lungs. “But if…” I exhale, harsh. “But if it wasn’t for me, then Taroh wouldn’t have waged battle on anyone else—and his father wouldn’t have spread the bounty to other heads.”

Rune’s grip firms around my shoulder once more. “Isn’t it always easier, and yet so unfair, to blame a female for the crimes of a male? Even in pretty Licht, it seems that same pattern thrives.” His hand slips away as he leans his weight back onto one boot. “You are not to blame for Braxis or Taroh, for Eamon’s choices, for Daxeel’s… You are to blame for your own self, and no one else.”

My lips part, as though I make to speak, but no words come—and I simply gape at him for a moment.

Tears cling to my lashes, obscuring my sight in the dim Square. My throat bobs, swallowing down the brewing sobs, and I sniffle back the snot.

Rune is silent, watching as I wrestle to steady myself.

I wipe my hands down my face, leaving white streaks to ruin my cheeks.

“Well…” I start, a wobbly voice too wavered, “are you here for me—or your brother?”

Rune’s smile is small. “Made a friend in Forranach, have you?”

“He has a good soul.”

“You are the second to say that about him.”

“Who was the first?”

“Niamh.” Rune tucks his mouth. “She is biased.”

I sniff. “I think of him like a boiled sweet.”

Rune’s flicker of amusement glitters his eyes.

A smile dares soften my face. “Hard on the outside, with a tiny, soft core of butterscotch.”

His amusement breaks out into a grin. “Don’t write poetry, Nari. Stick to a tavern.”

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