Page 56 of A Curse So Vile

17

BRENNA

Brenna knew Ossorians couldn’t be trusted. It was in their nature to be savage and do what they wanted, taking great pride in it.

But Julian’s actions suggested he would honor his word. She’d sent Cole, Fiona, and Dorthea south with fresh horses and a sturdy cart. If they were lucky, they’d reach Felwick in two days. After they explained their situation, her kin would keep them safe and give Fiona the support she so desperately needed.

As to why the Ossorians wanted her, Brenna was baffled. There was nothing special about her. Her own grandmother came from Cresite Terras, a place utterly devoid of magic. As far as blood went, hers was weak.

The three other Ossorians from the inn accompanied them, each looking equally as monstrous as Julian, as their kind did not transform. Whereas the Denithians looked either wholly human or wholly beast, the Ossorians were forever stuck in between.

Because they lacked the discretion of the Den, they were forced to travel by foot as they could not mask their nature, and horses misliked their scent.

“Whatever you have planned won’t go as you expect it to,” she said with a hint of mockery.

Julian looked at her, his savage red eyes churning in discontent. “You speak as if you know anything about our desires.”

“You certainly enjoy killing. And blood. Let’s not forget causing overwhelming fear and panic.”

“You mock us because your people are weak.”

“How are we the ones who are weak? The Den has flourished over the centuries, and if I’ve heard it right, your people are not well numbered.”

“Our numbers matter not when just one of us is stronger than three of yours.”

It suddenly occurred to her that what they wanted was more obvious than she’d originally thought. The Ossorians struggled to reproduce. The females rarely got with child, and when they used humans, more often than not, the women died long before giving birth. The ones who survive birth babies with more human blood than the last generation, which is an affront to their kind.

They wanted to breed her.

“You think I’ll bear your kin, don’t you?”

Julian said nothing.

She gave a dry chuckle. “If that’s why you need me, you’re in for disappointment. For one, my blood is thinner than you think. My grandmother was not of the Dusklands or the Den.”

He smiled a sickening grin, like he knew a secret.

“Have you decided to take a lesser, then? Is my blood now suitable because yours is so fragile?”

“Nothing about us is fragile.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re in for quite a disappointment.”

A sinister chuckle erupted from his throat, needling Brenna’s anxiety.

“You’re a fool if you think taking me serves any purpose, as I am already marked for death.”

“Are you, now? If anything, we saved you from your fate, as your Denithians don’t take kindly to bestowing your gifts on strangers. Heartlanders, in particular.”

“I only did that, as there was no good reason not to. I’m cursed, and in just a few short days, I’ll meet my end.”

“Tell me, what end would that be?” Julian asked.

“I’m doomed to go mad. On my twenty-third birthday, I’ll forever be stuck in my beast form, unable to think, unable to reason.”

“Do you think that does not appeal to us?”

“Even you, for as sick as you are, must value your intelligence. Without the human side of you, however small it is, you could not reason, you could not plan, you’d doom yourselves because instinct can only get you so far. Especially in a world that hates you.”