Page 14 of A Curse So Vile

The farther they’d traveled, the more his scent grew, thickening to the point it was maddening. Impossible to think of anything else.

“Whadya want?” a scratchy voice called.

“I need a fast steed, and I’m willing to pay good coin.”

“That yers ova thaya?” The man pointed towards Dusty.

“Yes. He’s aged and lasted longer than he should have.”

“Whadya gonna do wit ‘em?”

“If you want him, he’s yours. Just give me a fast horse so I can be on my way.”

The stableboy was hungry, no doubt, and Dusty would be good for several pounds of meat, and then there were the bones which would make a hearty broth.

As the stableboy ambled to the cart, Brenna went into an inn to grab a meal. The main room was more lively than she had expected, given that Dusklanders were prone to a stoic nature. Men played cards in the corner, and a few women huddled at the bar trying to attract the attention of the patrons. She would have bet good money that a fight would break out soon, as the air stank of aggression.

It had been over a day since she’d last had a proper meal, so she ordered a bowl of venison stew, but Dorthea arrived before her meal did.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the Gryndari woman said.

“Ordering stew?”

“No. You’re dragging a sick girl miles from her home. And to what end? Don’t tell me you have a cure—that’s a damn lie. She has hours left, at best.”

“There is no cure for a wasting curse,” Brenna replied.

“I know that. It’s good that you do too. Now, what do you think you’re doing?”

Brenna turned to stare at Dorthea, who wore a look of obvious distaste. There was no point in trying to convince her of anything, so she chose not to talk to her at all and merely glared to get her point across.

“Nothing good is going to come of this,” Dorthea chided. “And don’t expect Cole to let your trickery slide. The moment he realizes his sister is lost to him, you’ll have to deal with his fury.”

Her stew came, and she set to work on it with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which was hard with Dorthea glaring daggers at her.

Fiona wouldn’t make it to the Den. That much was clear, which meant Brenna was faced with a decision. One not meant for her to make.

She could intervene with fate and suffer the consequences, which could very well mean death.

Or she could simply walk away, leaving a small girl to die in the arms of her devastated brother.

She was surprised that the choice wasn’t nearly as easy to make as it should be.

A petite redheaded woman caught her attention at the opposite end of the room. She was standing next to an ungainly man, a morose smile playing on her lips.

Brenna had seen women like this throughout her travels. Women forced into lives made for them by others.

Her eyes traveled the length of the woman, admiring the way her striking red hair set against her yellow flowered dress. The tops of her breasts were exposed, while the rest squished together in a too-tight bust. An uncomfortable garb displaying her enticing assets.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and Brenna saw the woman shiver. A delicate hand rose to the woman’s chest; her breathing quickened. It wasn’t the first time she had that effect on someone.

Women in distress longed for her, not necessarily due to their own inclinations as much as they yearned for Brenna’s freedom. The few times she’d taken one to bed she’d found them enthusiastic and joyful.

Oh, the delights they could have together.

A hand on her shoulder sent her fantasy crashing.

“We need to hurry.” Cole was frantic with worry, hardly able to get his words out. “She’s not well, and I don’t know how much longer she’ll hold out.”