The Cursed Deal ✓

Chapter 33

A wraith was normally a silent beast in Pinedon. They kept to themselves, fluttered through the woods like butterflies, and gifted children in the villages with nightmares. Their tendencies of loneliness and despair made them the easiest trackers, spies, and hunters. Not only were they undetectable, but they were heartless.

There was only one wraith in Rising Eternity, he went by the name of Kurse for he didn't know his true self. Wraiths were black ghosts, translucent, fluttering beasts that leaked shadow. The rags hanging off their bodies, luminous and black, was what every wraith appeared in. Kurse was no different.

Faine had only spoken to him a few times, yet she found herself sitting at the same table with him. Well, he wasn't exactly sitting. His body hovered over the chair and the beast with white eyes watched as his companions ate their full plates of breakfast. Hash, sunny-side-up eggs, and fried pork.

Wraiths were the result of wizards putting curses on living people, whether mortals or one of the many beasts that lived in Pinedon. Once they passed, through purpose or accident, their souls were trapped in the world and they couldn't leave. No spell could change their fate unless the original wizard that plagued them cast a spell to set them free.

Unlikely. That was why the forests and graveyards near Fanorre were crawling with wraiths. Too many and they'd overrun the land.

Kurse's white eyes met hers and Faine's stare dashed back down to the plate in front of her. Their only conversations were delivering mission reports, but for a reason she didn't want to ask for, he was acquainted with Nalea, sitting at Faine's left.

The great hall wasn't as busy as it would be in due hours. Precisely why Faine had dragged herself out of bed early enough to grant herself time to eat, converse with her companions, visit Tyvni, then head back to Silver Willow. She was trying to soak up as much of home as she could, but all of it wouldn't fit in her small pockets.

"So, you're shadowing a mortal?" Nalea asked for the third time.

Faine nodded and said around her bite of hash, "He's the mortal you spied on. Dark hair, swimmable eyes."

Nalea's dark blue lips curled into a devious smile. "Interesting. He was quite talkative underneath a geas. All it took was getting him alone long enough." She dragged the metal fork along her teeth and it whined against her fangs.

"I'm finding myself with the same problem. There's this fladline, Ginevra, who watches his every move. I don't quite understand their relationship."

"They sound like lovers," Kaspar offered from across the table where Kurse fluttered next to him. "Are you certain they're not lying to you?"

Faine pointed her fork at him, tipped with a white piece of egg. "I am certain. There's a secret passageway connecting our two rooms, and he's always there at night and I hear nothing out of the ordinary."

"I doubt he's as thorough as you when it comes to making obvious departures with loud doors and creaky floorboards." Kaspar adjusted the lapels of his leather jacket. "I don't believe the mortals possess an active imagination."

That made Kurse chuckle like the sounds of nails dragging along metal. Jokes were jokes and Kaspar was never fond of mortals for he hated their short lifespans. But he protected them in the way Faine did, just lesser so. Faine wondered what he'd have to say if he ever came across Ilian and discovered how resourceful he was.

"On the contrary, he has taken the necessary precautions. He was even aware when I wedged wood into the secret passageway; he's observant and listens for everything."

"Either that or he's simply a creep with his ear pressed against your door." Kaspar laughed at first and received a similar result from Kurse until he looked at Faine and discovered she wasn't amused. In fact, her frown was deep enough to turn her mouth down in silent disappointment.