Page 64 of Cursed Shadows 5

Daxeel hands Dare the bloodied carving knife. “You see, Taroh, this pup is nothing ordinary. I’m sure if you have half a mind left, you will have figured out exactly what it is. But have you learned its purpose here?”

Dare rounds on Taroh.

Daxeel draws back to sink into the chair. “Your father has been sending assassins from the grave. That is bothersome.”

Dare grunts. “It’s not what I had in mind when I cut his throat open in the middle of Kithe. The dead should stay dead… but bounties do not.”

Taroh flinches.

“Can’t have Nari unprotected, not with that bounty lingering with the surviving collectors.” Daxeel sighs, soft, but though his breathing is calm, his mind is a sudden violent clash ofwhat-could-be’s, all the different ways these assassins could get to her, end her; all because he stole Taroh.

It is his mess.

She is merely living in it.

“The bounty won’t be open now that your father is where he belongs,” Dare says, circling and circling and circling, bootsteps patient and calm around the wracked fae. “But those who accepted—and choose to risk fulfilling the kill for the bounty, well… they are a problem.”

“Nari needs protection,” Daxeel agrees with a faint nod. “A faerie hound is as loyal as it is savage. And I have decided that you, Taroh, will be its first meal away from the teat of its mother.”

On cue, Dare ceases his circling—and he crouches by the side of the wailing fae. With a small smile dancing on his rosy lips, Dare finds his peace and he brings the knife to flesh.

Taroh’s screams are all that come in answer, muffled by the fabric stuffed into his mouth. He shakes his head over and over, rattles against the chains that pin him in place.

Daxeel watches his distress.

It’s Dare who murmurs, with all sincerity, blood spattering his face as he carefully carves out Taroh’s kneecaps, “I think it romantic.”

Daxeel frowns on the thought.

It isn’t romance that motivates him.

The pup serves a purpose. Its protective, fierce instincts, its ability to imprint on a female within the first six months of its life, a chosen mother, these are the reason he will offer it to Nari. He needs the security in knowing she’s guarded by a faerie hound while he’s gone to the human realm.

Not just her, either.

Eamon is at risk, too.

The bounty will reach those who stand too close to Nari’s heart.

For all Daxeel knows, the bounty extends to Eamon as the challenged in the honour duel, the one who fled.

That is a problem for the ancient bloodline of Sgail.

If Daxeel dies in the invasion, and Eamon dies in the bounty fulfilment, the bloodline ends.

And though Daxeel has no fears of the coming invasion, the risk always remains and so should be considered.

A smart little human could figure it out—the best, effective places to strike a dokkalf, the neck, the eyes, the curve of the spine… And just that one human with one arrow and one added second to their life, that could mean his own end.

If it does come to be, he will leave this life without a farewell from Nari. That is the fear burrowing in him.

Nari will not have him, not for a moment, not for a conversation, not for a farewell. She made herself clear.

It’s a truth he doesn’t entertain for a moment longer, it’s a glaring reality he flinches against.

Daxeel rolls the tension out of his shoulders and watches Taroh’s slow demise, flesh cut, piece by piece, tossed at the faerie hound—

And the hound gets too eager.

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