Wicked is the Curse.

43| The Choice

Chapter 43 | The Choice

The Bloodbound followed her without a whisper. She knew he was there. She could feel his presence there, like a hive against her skin. A warm glide of honey against the back of her neck. In front of him, she felt like a bumbling amateur – just like the ones stumbling drunkenly through the dark streets of Irial, blind to the predators lurking in the growing dark.

So silent. She resisted the urge to look back at him, but a less prideful part of her longed to ask him how he moved so quietly. She had hunted animals before, but always with her family. Her twin brothers had been exceptional; but she had preferred to thunder on horseback across the grassy plains, racing her father. He always seemed to win – his stallion ran as if the wind lived in his soul. So fast that he could have been flying. He never engaged in hunting if he could help it.

"I hate killing," He would tell her, almost in a whisper, on those warm sunny days when the others had gone to hunt.

I do too. She would whisper in her dark room in the catacombs of Irial, after she had taken the life of one of Junhyn's enemies.

Along the tree branches, the Púca followed. Gone was their mischievous chattering. They marched along as if called to action by the Cú Sidhe's repeated yelps. There is honour in ye, she thought, catching sight of them leaping from the bough of one tree to another.

A shiver ran through the earth. Aire paused, drawing up tall as it rocked through her ankle bones. The awareness she had began to cultivate in Valherin had not returned completely but she tried not to rage at the lost progress. It would have to come back, and she still had this. A sense of wrongness in the land.

"Sweet one?"

"There is something wrong," She murmured. "The earth is unhappy."

He drew up beside her, his arm pressing against hers. He stared into the grey, white dark that loomed ahead. His head cocked. "I cannot hear anything."

She sighed. "Why did they call you Bloodbounds. You hunt Wielders and your senses are heightened. Why not Bloodhounds?"

"Hmmm," He cast her a sidelong look, "I will ask the Emperor that the next time we sit in for tea. Would that appease you?"

Her lip curled. "You are insufferable."

The only sign of his amusement was a quick huffing breath. She plunged back into the forest, where the balding branches tore at her. The evergreens dotted here and there provided dark plumes of green that gave life to the slumbering forest around her. At least, it felt like it was slumbering. The Cú Sidhe's struggles grew louder and Aire slowed, her heart leaping into her throat.

Behind her, the Bloodbound uttered a curse. Then, his hand was around her wrist and he hauled her down and into the shrubbery. He banded an arm around her, tucking her close as those dark eyes flashed to the shadows around them.

"I feel like you are using every excuse to lay a hand on me, Bloodbound. Do you enjoy the feel of me that much?"

"Impatient," He tutted. "We can explore how much I enjoy the feel of you later. I can hear voices up ahead."

She grew tense. "Can you tell how many?"

"More than a dozen. Perhaps even more than that. Men and women."

A sick foreboding seeped through her – like her own rot creeping through her veins. "Who would risk coming through Dearmain? Laochra said that the Crimsons didn't dare brave the forest."