Blood Curse (Branded Trilogy Book 2) (20 page)

Pril’s backside ached, and her legs were cramped. She’d been on her horse since morning. The lull of Athos steps had her slipping into a trance where her eyes wanted to close, and a blissful rest waited. The sun receded toward the land, leaving the hills, plains and trees in shadows.

“When will we stop?” she asked, glancing at Kade who seemed to be almost half asleep in his saddle.

“There is a town up ahead.”

He’d been quiet most of the day, offering one-word answers to her questions. She’d grown tired of trying to engage him and had decided to tell the boy a long story. She still wasn’t sure if the child understood her or not, but he seemed enthralled with the tale she’d woven and watched as his eyes shone with amusement and uncertainty.

“He adores you,” Kade said motioning with his chin toward the boy asleep in front of her.

“I feel the same way about him.”

“I wonder how much of your story he understood.”

“I’d like to think all of it.”

He laughed, and she hadn’t realized how much the sound would warm her heart. It’d been so long since she’d felt any joy, and the thought of having it without Tsura caused her eyes to mist. She missed her daughter and wished for a way to know if she was safe.

“We will find her soon,” he said.

She glanced at him.

“How do you know?” she whispered desperate for reassurance.

“Because I will not give up until we do.”

She’d responded to his kisses, his abruptness and his ignorance, but she’d not seen him like this, honest and true, and she didn’t know what to say. His words had touched her in a way she’d never thought possible.

“Why do you study me so?”

“I’ve not seen this side of you.”

He didn’t reply.

“What is the strategy when we come across Pias?”

“I am hoping we get there before the Monroes.”

She remembered what Galius had said—strength in numbers. If the Monroes were there before them, they’d be in trouble. It was better to deal with Pias, get Tsura back and flee to the other world before Silas and his brothers arrived.

“Yes, once we get Tsura you can go back to your vessel, and forget this ever happened.”

“I won’t forget, Gypsy.”

“In good time you will. This day, and the ones before it, will all be a haze.”

“How is it that Tsura hasn’t used her powers on Pias?” he asked, changing the subject.

“He has drugged her. Used the Witch’s berry he’d given the boy.”

He nodded.

Had Pias not given the berry to Tsura. She could do anything out of fear or anger, and he knew it. The Renoldi was frightened of the little girl and with just cause.

“She is young and therefore cannot control what she does. It is my duty as her mother to teach her the ways.”

“How are you going to do that if you cannot do the same things?”

She’d wondered this many times, and without the book she prayed she’d remember the spells, the herbs, oils and roots her mother had used, but more importantly she needed the words.

“I will need to have faith.”

He regarded her, and she knew there would never be another man like him to enter her life. Resigned to a life alone, she’d grown to care for Kade Walker. It frightened and warmed her soul at the same time.

“How can you do that when you have no faith in yourself?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Hold on, Gypsy, before you go off and tear me open. Hear me out.”

“Very well.” She fidgeted in the saddle.

“You can only count certain spells, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

“I do not know.”

“I believe it is because you do not trust in your own abilities. I can see how the death of your brother has affected you and Sorina’s harsh words ripped you in two. You exist for Tsura. You wake each day for her and hence have forgotten to live for
you
.”

“Nonsense.”

“Truth.”

“Absolute rubbish. I love my daughter more than life itself. Of course I’d put her above my own welfare, but for you to suggest I am not utilizing my abilities is absurd.”

“You have not given yourself a chance.”

“You are too foolish to understand.”

“I understand more than you realize or give me recognition for.”

“How dare you say I do not believe in myself?” She was shocked at his abruptness. He knew nothing about her, and yet what he’d said held truth.

“It is written on your face. In the way you walk, the set of your shoulders and the hesitance in your voice.”

“I simply cannot do all of the spells. I have accepted it. Now leave it be.”

“Ah, Gypsy, you are so naïve. Disappointment clouds me that you cannot see what I do.”

“You know nothing of me.”

“I believe I do.”

“How can you be so crass?”

“All I propose is that you search within yourself. I bet you will be surprised at what you find.”

“Bah! I have heard enough.”

She couldn’t let him know she felt the same way, had doubted herself from the very beginning. Vadoma was the gifted of the two sisters, and so she’d not even tried. When she had used the spells in the confines of the forest all alone…she’d failed.

“What of you?” she asked, tossing her hand in the air.

“What about me?”

“You’re an unopened portal.”

“There is nothing to know.”

“Who is your mother?”

She knew the mention of his mother would light him up, and he deserved it for the things he’d said.

He clenched his jaw and frowned.

“Leave it alone, Gypsy.”

“How convenient. You can spout off about me, and yet the mere mention of the woman who bore you sets you off.”

“It is in the past.”

“I’ve spoken of my past.”

“You lied about your past, I just figured it out.”

“No, I was not forthcoming. I did not lie.”

“Your past is the reason we are both here right now.”

This was true, but it did not stop her from wanting to know something personal about him. After all he knew so much about her.

“Did you know her name?”

He sighed.

“No.”

“Where did your father meet her?”

“Sam did not know my mother in the way most men and women come together to make a child.”

“I do not understand.”

“Sam Walker raised me from the time I was an infant. He is not of my blood.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“I am sorry.”

He eyed her.

“Do not apologize. Sam was the best thing that ever happened to me. Just because his blood is not within my veins does not mean he is not my father.”

She nodded.

“If he hadn’t taken me in, I’d be dead.”

“You cannot be serious.”

He nodded.

“My mother left me abandoned on the ship and never returned. If Sam hadn’t been there to take pity on me, I’d have been thrown into the sea or sold as a slave.”

Her heart broke thinking of how a mother could throw away her child.

“What was wrong with your mother that she’d give up her son?”

“I do not know.”

“This Sam Walker must be a fine fellow.”

“One of the finest.”

“Where is he now?”

He clamped his lips and flexed his jaw.

“Kade, where is your father now?”

“The village is about half hour from here.”

“Why will you not answer me?”

“I choose not to.”

“But why?”

“We will need to find an inn that will feed us a bite to eat. The boy is probably as famished as I.”

“What of your father?”

He blew out a long breath and faced her.

“I do not know.”

Kade had spoken the truth to her. He didn’t know if Sam was even alive, and the thought was almost his undoing. He tried to distract himself with thoughts of the child, Pril or the young lad but in the end his mind went back to Sam and how he fared. Would he be well when Kade saw him, his heart still slow, causing blackouts and dizziness? He was desperate for word, for any information to tell him Sam still lived. He rubbed his face, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Silas Monroe caused every muscle in his body to tense. Anger stirred his gut—his hands itched to strike out at the plantation owner and smash his bloody face in. He’d not rest until he knew that Sam was well, and Silas paid for what he did.

He glanced at Pril, stiff in her saddle, thankful she’d not pushed him further about where Sam was. He couldn’t tell her the truth of why he’d been in the Peddler camp weeks before, blackmailed by the very man who’d hunted and killed her niece.

The boy leaned his back against her chest and snored. She was exhausted, yet resilient and always ready for battle. There were days he’d pushed her further than even he wanted to go. He was spent, and it took everything he had left in him to keep from closing his eyes. His muscles cried out for a soft bed and hot bath. It’d been weeks since he’d had either.

He led Goliath to a narrow gully of the Chicomine River and walked him across. He inhaled. The aroma of bannock filled his senses and caused his stomach to rumble. It’d been too long. He’d sacrificed everything to find the girl, leaving his vessel ported, his mates and the luxuries of his quarters. He missed them all, but he missed Sam more.

He should’ve never left him in the hospital alone, without a guard. He had enemies in almost every harbor, Felix Seller being one of them. The captain of the Seller Ship was his competition. For the last few years Kade had made his runs in good time. The other merchant hadn’t been pleased that he was taking his work.

There were pirates and sea thieves he’d angered, not willing to give up his ship and what was on it without a fight. He hired the best seamen out there, fed and paid them well. In return, they remained at his side through it all.

He’d been blindsided by Silas. The wealthy bastard worshipped Kade, or so he made it seem, and he’d fallen into the trap. He blamed himself for Sam’s capture—for his finger and his health. Had he not been so consumed with the loading of his ship, with the next delivery, Sam may still be with him and not locked up, being subjected to whatever means of torture Silas was inflicting.

He closed his eyes unable to think of his father any longer.

The small village hadn’t grown in the four months since he’d been back. The town hosted an Inn nestled against the trees, and he led Goliath there. They passed homes with thatch roofs, the structures built with timber and scattered about the land in no particular order. Chickens ran loose across the dirt road, and he pulled his horse to the left so he didn’t step on one.

A veil of darkness covered the land, the village asleep for the evening. A faint glow from the windows of the Inn lured him, and he let Goliath have control, taking them there. The Marrow Inn fell back against large oak trees and offered the privacy he desired.

He dismounted and stretched his tired legs.

“I will do the talking once inside,” he said to Pril as he helped the boy down.

She nodded while sliding from Athos.

A fire burned in the large hearth against the far wall. A short counter made of pine stood between them and the man, fast asleep, resting his head on it.

Kade took his dagger from the sheath on his hip, and using the handle he hammered onto the wooden platform right next to the man’s ear. The man jumped, knocking the book burrowed under his arm onto the ground. The Innkeeper wiped the spittle from his cheek and ran his hands through his thinning hair.

“A room is it?” he asked and glanced from Pril to the boy, then back to Kade.

“Yes, and warm water brought up for a bath please.”

“Fine…fine.” He wiped the sleep from his eyes.

“We’ve two horses out back that need tending.”

“It’ll cost extra for oats and a brushing.”

“Very well.”

He glanced behind them. “No bags?”

“No.”

“Follow me.” The short, portly innkeeper shuffled around the counter and down the hallway.

Kade went first, Pril and the boy behind him. The room was two doors down the hall from the front desk. He ushered Pril and the boy inside.

“We are famished. Is it possible to have something brought to the room?”

The man smiled, and Kade relaxed.

“Sure, sure. My wife, she made chowder soup.”

“That will do. Thank you…uh—”

“Milo Mortis at your service.”

“Much obliged, Milo.”

Kade went into the room and closed the door.