Page 11 of A Curse So Vile

“Yeah…I just…I just came out expecting you to be gone. Like it was some cruel joke.”

A part of her wanted to leave, because deep down, she hated this man.

It wasn’t his fault that he was used as a pawn in some twisted game witches so love to play. She knew this, yet she hated him nonetheless.

Still, she may have use for him.

“Let us be quick. Fate brought us together, and my generosity will only extend so far. Load the kid.”

Cole had restrained Fiona to the board well, with blankets rolled on each side to keep her comfortable. Brenna hadn’t expected to be so taken by the sight of the child, so small and hopeless. She loathed hopeless things that depended on others, and as far as she was concerned, nothing was more hopeless than this tiny thing bundled on the board.

Despite this, her heart lurched in her chest.

“I’m scared,” Fiona rasped.

Cole went to her, brushing her hair aside and placing a kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to make this right, Fiona. This woman is going to help us.”

The child looked at her with yellow eyes that appeared so much older than her child body.

Stop caring! She’s nothing—no one. If she dies on the trip, it’s no matter.

Brenna grabbed one end of the slab while Cole took the other. They brought her to the cart as carefully as they could. Dorthea was already seated next to where they would place the child, a tight look on her face.

They set Fiona down as gently as they could, then Cole went about gathering what few belongings they had. Brenna took her place at the head of the cart.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Dorthea said as she brushed Fiona’s tangled hair from her face.

Dread coiled in Brenna’s gut. The truth was, she didn’t know what she was doing. She had a vague idea of what she could do, but no real guidance. She had to get Fiona to her pack and into the hands of an elder. Whether or not they’d be willing to help, she did not know, but she had to try.

Cole threw a pack in the back and climbed in next to Brenna, ax in hand. “Let’s get on with it.”

* * *

COLE

Progress was slow, as the horse was old and prone to confusion. Dusty had been with them since before Fiona’s sickness, and he couldn’t bear to part with the grumpy steed. Now, he might be forced to, as he could see Brenna’s annoyance grow into rage.

Secretly, Cole was relieved that their pace wasn’t so erratic as to cause Fiona unnecessary discomfort. He knew they had to move fast, but if Fiona were to jolt too hard, she could just as easily die from trauma. It was difficult knowing their best course of action, but if he had to choose, he’d rather have her pass peacefully in her sleep than battered and bruised.

Dorthea, too, was angry. And rightfully so. If she had it her way, Fiona would lie dying in a bed full of her favorite flowers. She had tried to talk him out of going, and perhaps if he had half a brain, he would have listened. But he wasn’t ready to give up on his baby sister. And he wouldn’t. Not until he drew his dying breath.

Unfortunately, the town of Ashwood was little help. Trade was poor, and they had no horses for sale. Even when Brenna offered more coin than Cole had to his name, they couldn’t produce what they did not have.

Furious, Brenna unleashed every vulgar word known to man and even a few Cole had never heard before.

She’d shed her filthy cream-colored tunic and now wore a brown leather vest, revealing muscular arms. She was not a delicate woman, though her golden-blonde hair and dazzling green eyes made her look far more innocent than her crass words betrayed. If she had been wearing a dress, he would have easily mistaken her for a Heartlander, though her form was more often seen in Cresite Terras—a territory once governed by warlords. One thing was for certain: she didn’t have the look of a Dusklander.

I wonder what she’ll have me do?he mused, imagining her long legs wrapped around his waist. He didn’t figure her as a woman who would lie back and let just any man mount her. She seemed like the type who would want a measure of control.

Stop it!he scolded himself, feeling ashamed. His sister was dying and he could hardly control himself.

Besides, Brenna probably has more on her mind than carnal pleasure. She, too, was cursed, though he wasn’t sure how.

He glanced at Brenna, trying to figure out what her affliction could be. Curses could take on many forms, some causing physical sickness, others causing illness of the mind. Brenna appeared strong, and she didn’t seem to be losing her wits. Something was wrong, though. She was a desperate woman, but what she was desperate for, he could not say.

“Your horse is shit!” Brenna seethed, pulling on the reins.

“Had I known we would be trekking across the Dusklands, I would have arranged for more adequate transport,” Cole replied.