Page 100 of Cursed Shadows 4
How slow and painful is my death ordered to be?
Ten thousand gold pieces is a strong motivator.
The exact amount of my tocher. I can’t shake that. If that’s a coincidence, it’s a stark one. It’s more likely that it’s an intentional figure, one that niggles at my brain for me to understand the message behind it.
I find the message.
“It was Taroh.” My voice is a whisper wrapped in frost. The cold of my breath mists around my face.
Dare cuts a glance at me. He doesn’t break pace.
“The bounty is my tocher. He wants me to figure out that the kill was paid for by him.”
“Taroh is missing,” Dare says, but it isn’t a dismissal of my theory. “Must be his father. You are no worse off than if the bounty didn’t exist. You and Dax are the targets on this mountain regardless.”
I force a smile at him. “Lucky me.”
“Lucky you,” he agrees with a faint nod, “because you have me now.”
My chin lifts a touch. “I did fine without you.”
Not certain how true that is. But no prickle itches my tongue, a tongue that’s already a little swollen from all my earlier lies, so it must resonate with my heart.
Guess I did alright.
Better than anyone would have expected… even me.
“You did better than fine,” Dare says, then ducks under an overhanging bough, cracked and fallen. “You thought quickly, you reacted effectively.”
I stoop under the bough to keep pace. But my steps are heavy, staggered, and I am certain he slows down just for my benefit.
“You might make a career of killing,” Dare throws the compliment over his shoulder at me, his gaze drifting down to the heavy thuds of my boots on hard soil.
I manage a forced smile.
But a deep growl is quick to rumble the air between us—and it came from no beast.
It came from me.
My face floods crimson.
Dare’s brow arches and his gaze drops to my belly.
“I gave my food away to a faerie hound,” I mumble.
That perfect arch of his brow above his eye remains, and he lifts his gaze to mine. Questions glitter in his gilded eyes, amusement flecked throughout.
If he wants to ask more about it, he bites back the words, and instead says, “Let’s get you fed. We can’t have you losing those lovely curves of yours.”
With that, he turns and hikes up the slope.
I follow.
Wherever Dare is leading me, it’s a fucking trek.
I hike the slanted incline behind him and, twice, I pause to sick up some bile.
The distance between us is a mere arm’s reach, maybe closer since I am so sagged over myself, as though I am about to drop to my knees and claw the rest of the way up this never-ending incline.
