Page 92 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

“What do you mean?”

“There are no animals here. I haven’t heard a single bird cry all day. We have to be far enough from the drakes by now.”

Cammon frowned and paused in his walk to look at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine. Cold. Hungry. But where are all the animals?”

He scanned the area. “We’re still on the edge of dragon territory. We should be passing out of it tomorrow, and then we’ll start seeing life again, I think.”

Tomorrow. I could make it until tomorrow. I was sure I could. One step at a time and stay focused on the goal. Two signposts to go.

“Do you think the ship will be waiting for us when we get there?” I asked, hoping that talking about the future would distract me from the discomfort of the present. “Or will we need to wait for it?”

Once I was home, I would be able to refill my blood supply. And lesson learned for the next time I headed out on some foolish mission like this—bring backups of my backups. I should have checked my supply when we were with the fury. Surely Thorn or Kalla would have had some to share. But I’d been so certain I had enough. I hadn’t considered all the times we’d lost so many belongings.

Unless Kalla had stolen it. I still didn’t quite believe she would, but my thirst was driving me to lash out and blame anyone for my current state.

If we hadn’t come so far, I would have suggested we go back and check the campsite to see if it hadn’t been destroyed by the mutts or the explosion. I was also ashamed that I’d lost such a critical necessity. Cammon never would have made such a mistake, and my pride wouldn’t let me confess my misstep.

I had to summon my strength and get through this.

I realized Cammon was speaking and gave my head a shake before looking at him. “I’m sorry. What was that?”

His expression grew impassive. “Nothing.” The furrow between his brows deepened as he stared at me, but he kept whatever was going through his head to himself and started walking again.

“I can’t believe we’re almost finished,” I said. “And you thought it would be such an unpleasant journey. It’s probably your fastest one yet.”

“One of, yeah,” he said. “My record was three days, and it was among my first. For a while, I was arrogant enough to think they’d all be that easy.”

It was on my tongue to tease him about said arrogance, but I swallowed it. In my current frame of mind, there was a high chance it wouldn’t come out properly. Instead, I asked, “Where was it?”

I needed his voice to pull me out of my head. Needed his stories.

Cammon flashed me a grin. “Right in the middle of the city.”

My eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t realize Golth had treasure. I would have thought it’d been snatched up during the original development.”

“It was under the town centre tree. No one else had the nerve to dig under it.”

“Then the big bad demon prince swept in and did the honours?” I meant it as a joke, but my regret swelled when his expression darkened. Exactly what I’d been trying to avoid.

“Yeah.”

I was stepping on toes today, and I hated it, but I couldn’t get my head on straight to navigate the conversation. After everything, talking with him should have been easy. Getting to know Cammon had been a highlight of my life—I could see that as easily as I could make out the raindrops falling around me or the way my boots splashed through the mud-lined puddles. So why couldn’t I talk to him now?

“Do you keep all your treasures in that big house of yours?”

“Most I sell. Sy arranges that side of the business. But I keep a few. Or I did. I’ll probably get rid of them when I go home. Won’t have much use for human relics in demon country.”

Why did it surprise me that he planned to abandon his life here when he returned to Karhasan? Obviously he would have no need of an estate in Golth. He would never be back on Golthwainian soil unless it was on some diplomatic visit, and as far as I recalled, the last such visit from a demon king had been over fifty years ago.

Why did the idea of that large estate sitting empty—of it no longer being the home of the demon who’d built it from its foundations—make me feel like a fist had lodged in my centre? I thought of the warm, inviting foyer, the elaborate gallery, the dark, cozy office. I thought of the painting on the wall of the woman and her lover. The one that had stopped me in my tracks and made me wish I’d had time to sit and stare at it.

“What about that painting?” I asked. “What is it called? The Dream? Will you bring that with you?” I hated the idea of it languishing in some closet or, worse, being sold to some random person.

He started and looked at me. “You noticed it?”

I smiled wryly. “Hard not to when it takes up half your hallway. It’s beautiful. Your housekeeper said you painted it?”