“Even offer yourself to a Bloodstone warrior?” Before I reply, he tilts my face upward, and my stomach quakes as his gaze lowers to my mouth. Alarm fires through every inch of my body; try as I might, I cannot contain the tremor or the way I stiffen. “I smell your lies, Kyanite.”
“Sol.”
His mouth thins as he releases me. “Go home.” Just two words, yet they lash my skinandpride as he steps back.
“I have no intention of leaving.”
“You’re not staying here.” He strides to the tent flap and lifts the material. “Come.”
Everything in me wants to deny him, to speak sharply. Instead, I quell my disdain, my anger, my powerful urge to shove him, and I follow him from the tent.
Rain pelts my face as I trail him through the murk and mire. We pass rows of tents and four Malachite men chained together inside an iron cage.
My stomach lurches as I force my focus away. The men still ingrain themselves into my thoughts. Their scared eyes. Their thin bodies. Their ragged hair. Their blue face paint. It covers their facial features, from forehead to chin. The very thing that sets them apart from other Tarrobane barbarians is probably what condemned them.
Gabriel stops near a small tent in the center of the camp. “In there.”
My brow rises as I cast a glance between the man and the tent. “Do you plan to murder me in there?”
Like earlier, his upper lip curls into a sneer, and even though he speaks plainly, a shiver slips down my back. “I have no such plans.”
“Will you at least tell me why you want me to go in there?”
He folds his arms, his body seeming relaxed, if not for the stiffness of his shoulders. “You will stay here until we decide what to do with you.”
“We?”
“The council,” Gabriel says, his voice terse.
Those four Malachite men chained together flash through my thoughts. If I’m not careful, I could end up like them—tethered like an animal in the rain.
Without another word, I step into the small tent. As the warrior’s footsteps fade, his words pierce my ears.“Go home, Kyanite.”
I will after I kill your chieftain!
ChapterFive
The flap closes behind me, barricading me from the sun. I exhale and pace the small space between the bed and the wall. No other furniture sits in the tiny tent. So, I use the bed as my starting point. Then, I march to the wall. I pace back and forth until my hands shake. Bed. Wall. Bed. Wall.
When I met Gabriel, I knew he would be a problem. Now, here he is—very much a problem.
I’m going to kill him.
The thought burrows so deep within me, I even plan the execution. First, I’ll steal his broad sword, then I’ll ram it through his eyes, those unnaturally, beautiful blue eyes of his. I have met many people in my twenty summers, but I have never seen anyone with the same color as his. They’re blue on the outside and silver near the center.
Of course, after I finish planning everything and go through the scenario, I reject the idea. Murdering Gabriel would serve me no purpose. Though, it would give me keen pleasure to kill a Bloodstone warrior, to avenge Mother and all those who died with her.
The truth of why I’m here stops me. Only one man’s death will give Mother peace in the afterlife. Roland.
Maybe if Gabriel hadn’t bruised my pride, I wouldn’t have thought about killing him. I raise my fingers to my throat where he grabbed me. My stomach quaked at his touch. There’s no way I would have enjoyed him bedding me. It was a foolish decision—offering myself to him.
For what seems like the hundredth time, my gaze lifts to the tent flap. This isn’t how I expected to spend my fourth night here—alone, abandoned, left to dwell on all the things the Bloodstone people must say about me, a Kyanite.
Determination strengthens my resolve as I stiffen my shoulders. I will succeed. They will not send me away.
This is my mission, just like it is the moon’s mission to always chase the sun. Though, I will succeed where the moon cannot.
I will catch my quarry!
