Page 14 of A Hunt Bound in Blood
“King Evaniel emphasized the importance of our timeline. It’s bad enough we’re not starting until tomorrow, but I don’t think either of us should be drinking if we want to ensure an early start.” Her gaze dropped in pointed disapproval to the empty glass at my elbow. I had planned to be finished for the night, but at that look, I gestured to Lana to refill it.
Gloria’s eye twitched, drawing a smirk from me, but all she said was, “You are correct, though, that we should discuss expectations before we set out. First, I am the one who has put years of research into this amulet. As such, you will listen to what I have to say on every signpost we find. You are here to serve as my guide through the wilderness and my protector should we come across any danger, but this is the culmination of my work, and I will not have you stealing credit for it.”
I blinked at her. “Believe me, I have no interest in throwing my name on some long-winded academic report no one will ever read.”
She worked her jaw, then continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Second, in order to make the entire trip within the mandated four weeks, we should aim to move forward as far as we can each day. I’m not sure how you usually carry out your… expeditions, but I don’t foresee much lazing about.”
I pressed my lips together to keep myself from laughing. It was precious that she thought this journey would involve the same energy output as debating national policy around a table. I predicted that by day three I’d need to drag her out of bed before midday if we wanted to get moving. Whether or not we made it to Blue Harbour within four weeks would rest on my shoulders. I accepted it and wondered if she’d be ready to admit it when she realized.
Gloria cleared her throat, and I noticed that red flush from earlier crawling up her ivory neck to spill into her cheeks. I leaned forward, eager to hear what third item had caused such a reaction. The taste of embarrassment wafted off her, thick as soup—a touch salty.
“Third, I am well aware of demons and their reputations, and I want to state up front, with absolute clarity, that I have no desire—no interest in exploring or experimenting with them.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Reputations?”
Her flush spread, the flavour of her embarrassment growing headier. “Yes.”
“What kind of”—I dropped my voice to a deeper note, one full of sin and temptation—“reputations?”
Her anger returned, mixed with something else that was quickly choked by an undertone of yet more embarrassment. “That right there,” she said. “That’s what I mean. I understand that your ability to read my emotions is ingrained in what you are, and I accept that you’ll be feeding off them to an extent, but under no circumstances do you have permission to take more than you need or to try to manipulate them to derive the ones you prefer. I won’t have any of that, Mr. Ruxo. I’m not to be trifled with, or seduced, or any such manner of behaviour.”
I grinned, and she stumbled over whatever else she’d been about to say.
“What?” she demanded.
“It’s not Mr. Ruxo, it’s Cammon.”
Her spine straightened. “I think it would be best if—”
I cut her off before she could continue with any more prudishness. I couldn’t handle her throwing that word around the entire trip. Not until I could rightfully wear it. “Ruxo is not my surname. It’s my title. I was next in line for my father’s throne, and Ruxo marks me as such. It means ‘prince’ in your tongue. My surname would be beyond your pronunciation.”
Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “I see. My apologies for the misunderstanding, Your Highness.”
My lip curled, and I waved my hand in dismissal. “That’s not necessary either. If I were still next in line, you wouldn’t find me here in Golthwaine. Ruxo is a fragment of my past. We’ll pretend it’s not there, and you can call me Cammon, Gloria.”
My aim to needle her paid off, but if I’d expected her to push back with a request to stick with Mage Dolan—a request I had no intention of respecting—she surprised me.
“If we’re dealing with first names, then call me Glory. Very few people call me Gloria.” Her voice was stiff, as though she begrudged even this limited camaraderie, and I did her the benefit of biting back a laugh at her expense. Though I couldn’t help but smirk at the nickname. Glory, indeed. Quite the lofty choice for such a dull, lifeless creature.
“Well, then, Glory, may I suggest you enjoy your dinner and take advantage of a semi-comfortable mattress while you can? We leave at first light, and it might be the last good sleep you have for a while.”
Glory
IX
By the next morning, I could safely say Cammon was a liar as well as an ass. The mattress had not been semi-comfortable. It had been lumpy and smelled faintly of cooked onions and cabbage. Or maybe the smell lingered in the air from the stew, which—I had to give the demon credit—had been as savoury and filling as he’d promised.
But well fed or not, I was not at my best as I tightened the laces on my skirt and buttoned my waistcoat in the glow of the early dawn.
To help me keep my vampiric instincts in check so I didn’t kill my associate on the first day, I took a quick sip of blood and returned the flask to the side pocket of my pack before settling my bag between my shoulders above the bundled tent, bedroll, and blanket. With a last look in the mirror to ensure my bun was tidy, every loose hair contained so it wouldn’t tickle the back of my neck on our trek, I left the relative comfort of my room and met Cammon outside the inn.
Cammon the prince.
A detail the newspapers had never revealed and King Evaniel had failed to mention, though there was no way he didn’t know.
What did the demon mean that the title no longer applied? How could someone born to inherit a throne no longer be eligible for it? Unless he’d been disinherited. But then why? If what he’d done was so bad, why wasn’t he dead? I didn’t know much about the workings of Karhasan, but I’d read enough history to know they didn’t think much of mercy in judgement. They were far more the draw-and-quarter type of justice dealers, providing great entertainment for the masses.
But to have been cast out of the line of successful and wind up in Golthwaine of all places. Was it a ruse? Had he come here to corrupt the humans of Golth? If that were the case, he spent an awful lot of time on his own searching for buried treasure.