Please, help me.
Gabriel walks to where I stand and slides his gaze over me again. “You’re hurt.”
Instead of scolding or yelling, like I imagined he might, he pulls on my sleeve enough to observe the laceration on my arm.
“I’m well.”
“No, you’re not. You require stitches.”
“I’d like to remove the body first.” Otherwise, people will know what I have done. They’ll come for me. They’ll murder me.
Stop.
Gabriel’s brow rises. “Who was he?”
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel turns and heads toward the barn. My heart pounds, slamming against my ribs. What if he doesn’t believe I acted in self-defense? What if this is the end for me?
No.
As I follow Gabriel, the fading sun mocks me through the trees, the barn, and to the man sprawled on the floor. Gabriel kneels near the stranger and examines him.
I shift my weight and brace myself for his fury, his accusations.
After several intense moments of silence, Gabriel glances up. “You killed Lucian. He was once a well-trained soldier until he turned to drinking. Now, he’s rarely sober.” Gabriel straightens. “What did he want with you?”
“My mark.” I hold up my arm for Gabriel to observe the serpent.
Shadows glint in Gabriel’s eyes as he studies the hissing serpent. “Your mark?”
“Yes. He said someone told him about it, and I am worth a lot of coin.” The words taste bitter against my tongue. Lucian said many hateful things.
Gabriel balls his fingers into fists and curses under his breath.
“I have made you angry.” I swipe a hand across my cheek.
“No.” Gabriel shoves his fingers into his weapon belt and shakes his head.
“Are you angry I killed Lucian?”
Fierceness flares across Gabriel’s face and echoes in his words. “No. I would have killed him had you not.”
“For breaking into your barn?”
“For daring to touch you,” Gabriel says, his tone lined with steel.
He would kill for me?Me?The Kyanite?
Gently, he takes my hand and pulls me toward the door. “Go back to the cottage. I’ll take care of the body.”
“I could help you.”
He squeezes my fingers and releases me. “No. I’ll take care of it.”
Beyond this cottage, a lot of Bloodstone homes stamp the hillside. The people who live in them wouldn’t hesitate to condemn a Kyanite who killed one of their own.
My stomach tightens as I clear my throat and voice a question I must know. “Will I face repercussion?”
