Betrayer: (The Cursed Bloodstone Book 1)

Torchlight casts a warm glow around me as I tarry in a hot bath. It took a while to heat the water and pour it into the wooden tub, but every moment was worth it.

Praxis and his family left the day before. Probably far earlier than Gabriel intended, but I couldn’t convince Praxis to stay a moment longer. Besides, I’m sure Briley would have rammed my door down if I hadn’t allowed her husband to leave.

I kept expecting their son to exhibit signs of magic and to burn the cottage with his gifts. Of course, he never did. He’s just a baby. Yet, I braced myself for the inevitable. Nothing has made sense since I healed Praxis, and I don’t hold it past the gods to give Praxis’ child incredible magic.

Have the high gods gone mad?

They gave the Bloodstone back their magic. Or at least Praxis is convinced they have regained their gifts. I searched for signs of it as I tended my garden yesterday. Nothing changed about the city. The people are precisely the same as they have always been.

Still, I wonder if my time limit here has altered. Instead of weeks, I might only have days to carry out my mission.

I curl my fingers into the herb infused water and sigh. Even a bath cannot make me forget why I’m here, as much as I wish it could.

If I were normal like Briley, I might have what she has. Praxis stares at her with such affection. The child is the fulfillment of their love for one another. I’ll never have such bonds with anyone.

I lean back, encasing myself to the shoulders, and sigh again. My destiny was written in the sands the moment Mother’s blood soaked them.

My unattainable desires cannot override my judgement, my destiny, my dedication to Mother.

Determination bolsters me as I finish washing and rise from the tub. Water runs in rivulets down my body, cooling my skin.

I step out of the tub as the bedroom door swings open. A gasp escapes me as I pivot to face the intruder.

Gabriel!

His blue eyes widen. Instinctively, I throw my arms across my body, shielding myself from his view. Still, for a beat, his gaze took me in—every sopping, cold inch of me.

“I didn’t know you had returned,” I gasp out and shiver.

Lines deepen across Gabriel’s brow as he pins his stare beyond my shoulders. “Why did you allow Praxis to leave?”

An instant frown pulls at my mouth. “I had no choice.”

“You had every choice. You should have kept him from leaving.”

“Are you blind?” I stand a little straighter and deepen my frown. “I am petite, and he’s huge.”

Gabriel exhales and shoves his fingers through his hair. “I gave you one task, and you couldn’t even do it.”

I wrap a drying cloth around my body, move to the armoire, and talk over my shoulder. “You gave me an impossible task.”

“It wasn’t impossible. You simply didn’t do it.”

As I rummage around in the armoire for a nightdress, the drying cloth slips. I yank it back and continue searching. When it slips again, I allow it to drop to the floor.

“Hades, Sol. Put on clothes.”

“You’re welcome to look away.” I turn with a nightdress in hand. “Or stare. Whichever you prefer.”

“Hades!” A muscle ticks in his jaw as he turns his back to me.

“Disappointing choice.” I yank the nightdress over my head and tug it down my body. “Are you certain you’re not broken?”

Ice molds over his eyes as he turns back to face me. “If you’re asking me if I have ever bedded women, the answer is yes.”

A sliver of jealousy finds a home deep within my chest. As much as I will that sliver away, it finds kindling. Another woman—well, probably more than one—enjoyed Gabriel’s touch. And yet, he doesn’t want me. Doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t want to make me his proper wife.

I sit on the edge of the mattress and observe him still standing by the door. “Do you have a lover? Is that why you don’t touch me?”

“No,” he snaps out, as if he takes offense to my suggestion.

“You can admit it.” I take my normal side of the bed. “I don’t care.”

Liar.

“I don’t require a lover.” He moves to the washing stand, strips off his surcoat, and washes his hands with clean water from the basin.

Impossible. I never met a man who didn’t require relief.

I take him in. The way firelight glistens over his firm body—all those taut plains, ridges, and lines marked from summers of battle.

He looks virile, like the kind of man that needs a nightly romp between the bedcovers.

I pull my blanket to my chin. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t need to.” He widens his stance and folds his arms. “I made a vow of celibacy.”

My mouth falls open before I snap it closed. “Why would you do such a thing?”

He shrugs. “It’s easier than becoming entangled.”

The truth hits me, the reality I hadn’t seen before now. “Who was she?”

Clouds immerse his eyes as he turns away and walks to the window.

“Did you love her?” I ask softly.

The muscles tighten in his back as he props his hands against the window frame and doesn’t answer.

“You must have. She is the reason you will not touch me.” Pressing Gabriel will not get me what I want. I bite the inside of my lip and decide to change the subject. “Did you see Praxis’ son?”

Gabriel shifts enough to glance at me. “He has a son?”

“Yes. I helped with his birth.”

Creases appear across Gabriel’s brow. “Is the child healthy?”

“As healthy as any newborn I have ever seen.”

Surprise flickers in Gabriel’s eyes. “Briley has lost three babies. They were all born sleeping.”

“Oh.” Tiny prickles of apprehension settle against my skin. Maybe there are some truths to what Praxis said about their magic returning. “I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have.”

I pick at a loose thread in my bedcover. “The baby has a mark just like mine…”

My husband’s gaze jerks to the closed door. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” Unconsciously, I run my fingers against my cursed mark. “Praxis thinks magic has returned to your people.”

From the table, Gabriel yanks up his surcoat and pulls it back on. “Stay here.”

“Wait.” I rise to sitting. “Don’t leave.”

“I’ll be back later.” Without waiting for my reply, Gabriel leaves the bedchamber.

I exhale and frown at the door. There’s something he’s not saying. There has to be.

But what?

I roll my wrist, staring down at the mark. Gabriel married me because of this. It burned when I healed Praxis.

Now this, a child born with the same serpent on his arm.

What am I missing?

I lift my hands, rubbing my aching temples. Maybe I would have all the pieces if Gabriel told me everything. He said people can heal in Astarobane, yet Praxis said, I am the first.

Gabriel is intentionally keeping things from me. Vital things.

I must discover them.

The moon rises high in the night sky before Gabriel joins me in the room. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he settles on his side of the bed. I wait for the warmth that accompanied me the last time he was beside me. It never comes.

It takes everything in me to not roll over and check if he lies at the edge of the mattress. He probably does.

Frustration flares inside me. Frustration for everything I still don’t understand about my cursed mark and the Bloodstones’ magic. Frustration for still not setting sight on Roland and his successor. Frustration for not winning Gabriel’s favor.

I stood in front of him naked, and all he did was ask me to put clothes on. What more does he want from me? Should I climb on him? Maybe then he’d consummate our marriage.

Or maybe he doesn’t find me beautiful. Desirable. Touchable.

Maybe his heart still belongs to that woman who hurt him. She shattered him and left me to pick up the pieces.

Jealousy sprouts to life in the center of my chest. It shouldn’t be there. I should pluck it out and never allow it to grow.

Even though I haven’t found a way beneath his skin, he has thoroughly found his way beneath mine. I want to kiss him again like the night of the festival. There’s passion buried beneath all his masks. So much passion. If only I knew how to chip at it until he gives into his desires with me.

I turn enough to catch sight of him, to watch the up and down movements of his back as he sleeps. I want him to like me. Really like me. Not because of my desire to win. No. I want him without any barriers. Any ties. Any past. Any future. I want him for a breath in time. A flash of sunburst against the bright sky. I want him the way a woman wants a man.

Though, I have no right to ask. No right to want any of this. I ball my fingers into a fist and shove it against my mouth. When I decided to marry him to stay here, I never thought it would be so hard.

He is Bloodstone.

I am Kyanite.

It should be easy. All of this should be easy.

Instead, there’s this growing tightness in my chest. This growing guilt festering inside me.

If only everything were different.

If only I were different.