Wicked is the Curse.

33 | The Portrait

Chapter 33 | Portrait

         Aire and her entourage crept through the stone corridors of Valherin with ease. Having a spirit on hand made Aire feel like she was back in Irial and that there was someone watching her back – someone reliable. The Bloodbound made no sound, so effortlessly quiet that for half a second, she could forget that he was there at all. For all his silence, he could have been a spirit too.

Gaela drifted ahead, through dark stone and into the untread places of Valherin. She would appear ahead at the corners, beckoning Aire forward.

The Bloodbound drifted closer, his arm brushing hers. "What do you expect to discover?"

"Proof."

"Ah yes. A one-word answer. Thank you."

"Do you have to be so cutting?"

"Absolutely."

She shouldered him, then scowled. "You could have the good grace to at least move a little."

"I am not here to spare your brittle feelings."

"Do all Bloodbounds attend classes on how to be as irritating as possible?" Aire slowed as Gaela appeared ahead once more. She motioned for them to quicken, and Aire hurried forward, rounding the corner. The black glass street of the central line of Valherin was clear. The night was quiet and outside the great eye, the dark sky was overcast.

"There are two Aether soldiers patrolling near where the banquet was held. That gives us at least three minutes to clear the street and reach the Pretender's home." Aire said absently, a hand braced against the wall. Her skin against the cold stone was nearly enough to bring the mountain to her, an awareness of the earth surrounding her pounding down through her bones.

"Your spirit is telling you this?" He paused at her shoulder, peering out.

She ignored him. What else could it be? Unless she had magically developed an ability to see through the stone? Though, with how unpredictable her Wield was, she wouldn't be surprised if it worked that way.

Aire and the Bloodbound passed under shadow, cautious and careful even as Gaela beckoned Aire forward. As she crept, she could feel the thrill burning inside of her. She missed it. Her old job. To walk in the night when most were still asleep – when the world was quiet, but she and her spirits were wide awake.

The Pretender's house – Eimile's house – was dark and ominous, set into the wall like the mountain was absorbing it back into itself. The great eye of Valherin gazed down as Aire circled to the edge of the house's face, searching for a second way in. There was no side-lane to slip down with how the house stuck into the mountain. "There are no guards?"

"Why should she need guards when they are holed away in the mountains?" Bloodbound Roark tipped his head back, mouth flat as he surveyed the front of the manor-house. "And yet, anyone with a title should have a guard. It is too easy for a malicious soul to steal away into their bedroom even with a guard. She shouldn't let the barrier of the forest, nor the mountain lull her into a false sense of safety."

"And I would bet that you are the malicious soul?"

He looked down at her from the corner of his eye. "I am just following you, sweet one."

"Your insistence on calling me that reminds me of a child who doesn't know when the humour has faded from a joke." She nudged his shoulder, a half-smile rising unknown. "It is quite sad to see actually."

His smile was brief like the flash of a falling star, but when it was there, it was blazing and beautiful. Dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth, like ripples in a pond. And just like the bright, blazing light of a falling star, it was gone too soon. Lost somewhere in the dark wild. In that moment, Aire was stricken by the strangest idea that they had done this before. Stood shoulder by shoulder, her elbow digging into his ribs and her tone cutting. That smile – that smile.