Page 80 of Cursed Shadows 5

Dare considers the table of mess and devices before he turns to nudge the door open—and Eamon does the same with the other.

Both creak against their unoiled hinges to reveal bedchambers. They are identical in their simple boxed design, far too small to fit more than one person, and even just one person is a stretch.

Dare considers the bedchamber before him. The one he recalls from his time here with Bee. The bed pushed against the wall is much the same as it was that night. Thick, fuzzy blankets thrown around, clothes colour coordinated on racks, books poked out from under the bed, rows of shoes neat on racks.

This bed is where he got his taste of Bee.

A nice taste, as any female is; a pleasant night, as he has had many times before. Beyond it being the human realm, and that the kinta stole his coin, and that their affections didn’t lead to sex, nothing in particular really sings to him about this night.

Fate led him here—and brought him back… and yet, Dare still searches for the secret, thewhy.

Nari is convinced Dare feels something for the kinta.

‘You like her.’

That is what she boldly claimed to his face.

She didn’t know how wrong she was.Is.

Dare doesn’tnotlike the kinta—he simply feels the draw of fate luring him. If it weren’t for the gold or the loss of bedding, the chances of his return here to her home would have been slim.

Dare finds nothing of interest in his study of the bedchamber, so tugs away and, in just four steps across the dining space, joins Eamon at the other.

This door was closed when he came here with Bee. The dweller was not home.

He of course checked it, briefly, when he came looking for Bee after he couldn’t find her in Licht.

But now he stands at the doorway, more patience in him, he finds that he sees more than he did last time.

He sees the difference between Bee’s colour coordinated racks, her organised books tucked under the bedframe—and the dweller for this room, whose chair is piled high with worn clothes, the vinyls scattered around the bed, shoes strewn around the floor like foliage, sheets half-tugged off the mattress, at least four empty mugs and two wine glasses stacked on the bedside table.

“It’s a mess,” Eamon declares and steps over a crumpled pile of towels.

“This one is not Bee’s chamber.”

“Oh.” Eamon digs out a foil packet from under the bed—empty, save for some crumbs. “Must be Tesni’s room. Bee never mentioned Tesni was part pig.”

The joke doesn’t land with Dare who, after a beat, tilts his head. “Tesni?”

“Bee’s roommate.” He pushes up to stand. “And close friend. My guess is that wherever Tesni is, Bee is with her.”

Eamon tugs out of the room with two backwards steps, then turns for the dining table.

Dare drags his gaze over the room once more, from the pink lingerie hanging off the wardrobe’s knob and an empty can on the floor, to a golden metal vase with a lid on firm, and the frames on the wall—frames of dead butterflies.

He makes an odd face at the bug corpses before he abandons the disaster of a bedchamber.

Already, Eamon has started to sift through the pile of parchments. He turns over a piece of white, folded paper in his hands. “She’s not here.”

Dare lolls his eyes back. “A solid observation. Have you considered a career in spywork?”

Eamon cuts aside his unamused stare. His jaw works for a beat, then he offers the white parchment. “She’s not here, on this island.”

Dare frowns.

Hesitation steals him for a moment before he snatches the paper fast enough that it cuts Eamon’s finger, a brownish line that looks little more than a wrinkle.

Dare studies the inked letters for a long moment before he shrugs. “What does this mean?”

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