Page 13 of A Curse So Vile

BRENNA

Brenna’s butt ached from spending so many hours on the hard cart seat. Looking over at Cole, she could see he did not suffer her plight.

His eyes were locked forward, his face a somber shadow. Perhaps if she’d had someone helping her, as Cole was helping Fiona, her curse would have already been broken.

But what use was there in wondering what could have been?

She knew it wasn’t fair to think such things, but the thought was growing on her, like mold. She had never given her kin the opportunity to care, preferring to suffer silently. She’d been so determined to fight her battles alone; she’d never let anyone in.

Her mind flashed to Elric with his piercing blue eyes and inner strength that was lost on the rest of her clan. He was the closest thing to love she’d ever known, and if things had gone differently, he’d be hers now.

But all hope of leading a normal life ended the night she was cursed.

Still, it didn’t stop her from taking lovers, and Elric was all too easy to mold into the perfect pleasure partner.

She looked over at Cole, who was wholly unworthy of her lustful thoughts. His scent suggested he had a few of his own, though that was common in men. A cloud formation could produce the same effect.

But who was she to turn her nose up when she had so little time left? A brief reprieve from her devastating fate was what she needed, and while he might be inferior to who she’s had before, he was a warm body.

Sometimes, that’s all that mattered.

He was handsome, his features lighter than those of the Den, though his muscles were just as hard. He smelt different from her kin, who often smelt of earth and sweat. Cole smelt of wood and perhaps a dash of cardamom, a scent that most likely came from Dorthea’s cooking.

This is hopeless. Why am I even bringing them with me? There’s little to no chance he’ll be able to break the curse. I’m just wasting time.

But one look back at the small child cradled in the blankets brought her to reason.

Her organs would soon give out, that was clear by her scent, and during that time, her pain would be excruciating. Enough to make her pray for death.

Why anyone would put a wasting curse on a child was beyond her. It was cruel, and no doubt done, not because of any misdeeds of the child, but so a loved one could watch her suffer.

Was that loved one Cole? Had he somehow angered a Dusklander sorcerer? The scent of guilt marred his handsome flesh, but guilt was had for a number of reasons. He could just be wishing it were he who was suffering instead of her.

And in a way, she thought that beautiful. That Cole should care so deeply for his sister moved Brenna’s heart uncomfortably.

These were Heartlanders, after all, and their fate mattered not to her and her people. The only thing she cared about was whether they could somehow change her fate.

Brenna breathed out a sigh of relief as they passed a sigh for Greenly. Procuring a faster horse would be their best chance for getting Fiona to the Den before she demised.

She snapped the reins, encouraging the aged horse into a faster trot. She could hear the horse’s heart thudding in its chest, just as she heard so many things most could not, and what Dusky’s heart rate was telling her was that he had little time left.

* * *

BRENNA

They made it to Greenlee mere moments before Dusty fell to his knees and collapsed on his side. Cole’s face contorted in horror, eyes widening, mouth gaping.

“It was his time,” she said, but immediately regretted it as Cole’s shoulders slumped, but it didn’t stop her from saying, “It’s just a horse. I’ll buy another.”

“No. It’s not just a horse. It was her horse,” he said, his eyes shifting in Fiona’s direction. “It’s the only thing she had from before she was sick.”

“It’ll be best if we do not tell her he’s gone.”

She climbed down from the cart and walked to the town’s stable. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Cole tending to his sister.

He’s so weak. He probably cries himself to sleep every night, and even during sex.

Her eyes roved over his body. She knew that under his tunic was a perfectly defined torso most women would do anything to get their hands on, and the fact that he’d been thinking about sex during their travels didn’t help matters.