Page 62 of A Curse So Vile

“The Den has a lot of old artifacts from across the land, and it just so happens, we have power dampeners of our own. Taken from those who sought to harm us. If we wear them as we grow close, we could blend in with their human slaves. But we have to move quickly, as there are only three days left.”

“Then let’s get moving.”

19

BRENNA

Something was wrong. Brenna knew by the way the townsfolk looked at her. As if they were expecting her.

But that made no sense. The Ossorians finding her was happenstance.

It was said the people of Ossory were more ghost than human, and the haunting look in their eyes suggested this was true, but blood still pumped through their veins. She could smell it.

She hated the ambiance of the town. The eerie foreboding that permeated every living being. For the most part, the Den was peaceful, and the Denithians got along with the town that shielded them from suspicion.

The people of Ossory only knew fear, and guarded the Ossorians because to do otherwise would be their death.

It was said that any human that left the town was hunted in the dark of night, their remains placed on pikes just outside the town to serve as a reminder to any wishing to flee.

By now, Cole, Fiona, and Dorthea would be at the Den, getting acclimated. Orrick will be furious with Fiona’s transformation, but he won’t take it out on the child, and she hoped that in time, she’d thrive there.

There would be no rescue as Ossorians were not known to leave their prey alive for long.

The thought of Icaries mourning her hurt more than she could bear. Perhaps the girl would be a comfort to him.

Shame washed over Brenna as she thought of her wolf brother. Icaries had been there for her through the best and worst times of her life, offering her guidance and support she couldn’t get from the other members of her pack.

And now he’d suffer for her stupidity.

In the distance, she saw a cluster of Ossorians approaching. While they walked upright, on two legs, their features were just as twisted and savage as Julian’s were.

A swift death would be a blessing because there was no chance she’d win against these foes, but something Julian had said during their travels stuck in her mind. He’d called her an ancient princess, insisting she’d rain death upon her kin.

Nothing about the threat made sense, as she’d never harm her own and she hadn’t a drop of royal blood in her.

Julian was obviously confused.

When the approaching Ossorians were just a few feet away, the men bowed, and the women dipped into curtsies.

Which was ridiculous because it was a decidedly human thing to do and she could think of no reason they’d see her fit for such an accolade.

“What is the meaning of this?” she whispered to Julian.

“They’ve been waiting for you a long time and weren’t really sure how they should greet you.”

“Waiting for me?”

“Your importance would be better explained by Constantine.”

“Is he your leader?”

Julian nodded.

“Am I to be some sacrifice?”

“No, savage princess, but you should expect tributes of blood in your honor.”

She scoffed, hardly knowing what to make of it all.