Curse of Blades (Blades #1)

Chapter 17

[Note: This was originally included in Curse of Blades: Book 2, but as of July 28th, 2021, I began combining the 3 Curse of Blades books into a single one.]

"Are you well?" Wildas asked as they walked out to the sparring arena that afternoon.

Coulta nodded. "Shelton's friend spoke to me this morning. I'm trying to accept everything she told me."

"She gave you answers?"

Coulta shrugged and was thankful that Wildas had made him swear to be honest. "Some. I'm just not... I'd rather not speak of it yet."

Wildas nodded. "I can have Rohan follow me around this afternoon, if you'd rather have some time to yourself."

"I would rather try to distract myself for now," Coulta admitted.

"Then I believe you owe me a sparring match," the prince replied with a smile.

Coulta forced a smile in return. "We'll see how long you fight before yielding."

"Against you, I don't think that will take long, but I plan to try for as long as possible."

Coulta woke out of a dream that night still hearing Teeya's screams, her accusatory expression still burned into his mind. It was one of the dreams he'd been having almost nightly since leaving Arren. If he wasn't dreaming about Teeya being tortured or killed by Varin, he was dreaming about all his victims. Some nights he even dreamed that one of those victims was Teeya. Trying to keep his mind busy during the day didn't stop his fears from taking root every night.

To make matters worse, his mysterious figure wasn't offering him any comfort. Several times Coulta had seen the figure in his dreams, but it had begun to look very much like Wildas. Unsure about what that meant, and afraid of what Asema had told him about his soul-partner, Coulta had turned away from the touch every time it was offered. Somehow, dreaming of Wildas – his master – in such a way felt wrong. And if what Teeya claimed about his dream figure was true, that it was his soul-partner trying to reach him, accepting the dreams would only make him feel worse. Even hoping to be considered a friend to the prince was too much for Coulta. Anything else would be so much more disappointing.

Normally, he would force himself to fall back asleep when the dreams woke him, or he would read by firelight until he distracted his mind. This time, he wanted nothing more than to run until his lungs ached. Slipping out of bed, he pulled on the old black fighting leathers he had worn to Ryal, and his high black boots. He left his swords behind, knowing he had a knife in each boot if he needed them.

His room was on the second floor of the castle, but the stables were close enough to land on if he timed his jump accurately – and used a touch of magic. He climbed up onto the windowsill and jumped out, landing silently on the stable roof. From there, he jumped to the second stable building some distance away, then even farther to the barracks, which required him to jump upward, then up again onto the wall surrounding the castle yard.

There were a couple of Guardsmen patrolling the wall, with another stationed above the closed gate. They didn't notice Coulta as he hopped the battlements and landed on the roof of a florist shop in the upper market. The streets were mostly deserted, except for the end where the massive brothel was. He debated for a moment going to see the building where the mages lived, but assumed he would not go unnoticed there; sorcerers in charge of the defenses of the city would probably have defenses for their own place of work and life. He'd most likely get himself caught, which would require him to do a lot of explaining to a lot of people.

Instead, he moved across the upper market to the streets crowded with fancy houses, avoiding Guardsmen once again. He paused at one house, noticing a dog chained outside. He had long ago learned that his magic could essentially make him invisible and silent, but he wondered if he still had a scent. At the very edge of the house's roof he slipped down close to the dog.