Page 50 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

The heat had finally released its grip on the Elsoria desert. Aidon couldn’t bring himself to feel relief. Not as the dryness in the air intensified, leaving his skin rough and itchy and his throat desperate for water he could not indulge in without destroying their rations.

He licked his chapped lips, a shiver raking down his body in the early morning cold.

His horse, at least, was unbothered. He’d taken one of the colts that had been pulling the prison wagon—an unruly thoroughbred with a brown coat and black mane, who required his full attention as they rode hard for days across the Elsoria.

It was odd, traveling with such a large group after weeks of only Will and Liam for company. A steady silence had fallen over the three of them in the time since Dauphine had freed them from the wagon, as if they knew, even without discussing it, that they were no longer safe to speak openly.

The Visya crew were tolerable, if not a bit brutish, but Aidon did not trust anyone whose loyalty could be bought so easily. And despite his defense of her in the wagon…he certainly didn’t trust Dauphine. Surely there were other avenues she could have pursued that would have been less drastic.

She had tried to speak to him the first day they’d taken to the sands. But luckily Will had set a fast pace, one that did not allow for conversation. Aidon had never been more grateful for the Enforcer’s impatience.

There was, however, a new sort of tension in Will the closer they got to Sitya.

Aidon wondered if it was the fear of coming so far only to be thwarted just before he could reach Aya.

There hadn’t been an opportunity to push him on it.

Will spent most nights sitting beside Akeeta, one hand locked on his bonded as if he were afraid he might lose her, too.

Aidon doubted Akeeta would be content to obey an order to leave again. Not with the unease emanating from her bonded, and not with Tyr pressed against her other side, his head tucked beneath hers.

Aidon had caught Will staring at them the other night, a soft look on his face that felt too private to witness.

“It’s strange,” Dauphine’s voice chimed from his right. He hadn’t even noticed her ride up alongside him, and he silently cursed their slow pace this morning. The horses had eaten not too long ago, and it would not do well to push them too early.

Dauphine didn’t continue, her long pause all too transparent. But Aidon refused to give her the satisfaction of baiting him into conversation. He nudged his horse with his heels, urging him on. The colt merely tossed his head.

Gods above. Would Aidon ever find respite from those with stubborn natures?

Dauphine let out a labored sighed, her leg brushing up against his as she steered her horse closer.

“It’s strange,” she repeated pointedly. “They say nobility are bred with manners, and yet I don’t recall hearing a thank you .”

Aidon’s grip on his reins tightened. “If you think I’ll thank you for betraying us, you’re a fool.”

Dauphine scoffed. “I saved your life. And I brought you a crew that might just help you complete this asinine mission of yours without dying. So that puts you in my debt twice over.”

He whipped his head toward the mercenary, his frustration mounting with dizzying speed. “Any debt I owe you is more than paid with the money you stole through your scheming.”

She didn’t flinch at the heat in his voice, but merely blinked once, those green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Would we call that stealing?”

“You gambled with our lives,” Aidon seethed. Liam glanced over his shoulder at him, his brow raised in curiosity. Aidon forced a steadying breath as he gave a subtle shake of his head.

He could handle the mercenary on his own.

“I made a strategic decision in the hopes of keeping you alive longer,” Dauphine corrected. Her voice had softened, that smug lilt fading into something far more serious. “How is that any different from what you have done as a general? As a king?”

The comparison rankled him, and not just because he’d revealed parts of himself to her in foolish confidence.

By that reasoning, anyone’s actions could be excused. Even Dominic’s.

No , a voice in his mind echoed. It sounded like his mother. They are not the same.

Maybe not. Yet he could not rid himself of the sting of Dauphine’s betrayal so easily.

“I am nothing like you,” Aidon stated. “And this farce of selflessness and loyalty does not fool me.” He held her gaze, something hot and vile stirring in his gut.

“So let me be very clear: I am using you just as you used us to deepen your coffers. The only thing I care about is getting to Sitya and helping my friend, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish that. Even partnering with the likes of you.”

Nothing else mattered—not even the hurt he could see flashing across her face. It couldn’t. Not when his friends’ lives hung in the balance.

Dauphine cleared her throat. “Well I can say this for you, Your Majesty. At least you’re honest.”

She nudged her horse forward, cantering ahead to where some of her Visya rode, and a few moments later, Liam replaced her.

“That was tense,” the Persi observed. Aidon rose a brow at the amusement that tugged on the corner of Liam’s mouth.

“Surely you don’t wish for me to spare her feelings.”

Liam snorted a laugh. “I couldn’t care less about her feelings. I wasn’t even sure she actually had them until I saw her mooning over you.”

Aidon’s throat suddenly felt suspiciously dry. Damn desert heat. “She wasn’t mooning over me. She simply knows how to wield her feminine wiles to get what she wants.”

“Sure,” Liam answered easily. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

That was the problem, Aidon thought to himself. He couldn’t sleep at all as of late. Not with Dauphine on a mat nearby, her steady breathing a rhythm he found himself subconsciously trying to match before his anger and guilt and disgust took hold.

He refused to let his bleeding heart eclipse his brain. Not again.

They are not the same.

Zuri’s voice was louder now, and though he trusted his mother more than anyone in this world save for Josie, he could not bring himself to listen.

It did not matter that he’d been right in his assumption of Dauphine’s motivations. It did not matter that he’d learned he hadn’t truly lost all of his instincts. He still hadn’t caught on to her betrayal until after it had happened, until after it had unfolded right in front of him.

Maybe they weren’t the same, the betrayals.

But the wounds…the wounds ached as if they were.