Page 95 of Gilded Curses

Aurora leaned forward to inspect her dress. When she did, the knife Orin had stolen from the kitchen tumbled from under her skirt and hit the ground with a clatter.

Orin’s teeth ground together as his eyes landed on the weapon. She’d cleaned it but must have been in such a rush to smuggle it out of the room, blood still clung to the blade above the hilt.

Judging by Alda’s nearly unhinged jaw, she had no idea what her friend planned as she gawked at the knife and then Aurora.

CHAPTER EIGHTY

“It’s not blood!” Alda blurted. “It’s strawberry juice. There were strawberries in the room. She shouldn’t have taken the knife we used to cut the strawberries; it was a mistake, and you can take it, but it’s—”

Before Alda could finish spewing her desperate lie, Aurora pointed a finger at her and shouted. “She’s working with the dark fae! She brought him into Desmond’s rooms. They’ve killed Desmond and Sheree! I took the knife to protect myself… from them!”

Alda’s astonishment vanished as fury clouded her face. “You stupid bitch!”

At first, none of the guards moved as this litany of revelations and news of the deaths held them immobile. Then all the guards swung their heads toward Alda; she held up her hands as she backed away, but there was nowhere for her to go.

Emboldened by their attention on Alda, Aurora took the opportunity to sprint down the hall. The guards finally broke free of their paralysis and stepped into the idiot woman’s way, blocking her flight.

“No!” Aurora wailed as she ran into the wall they’d formed.

Her fingers stretched toward the freedom she’d tried to grasp, but as the guards pulled her back, they tore it from her. There was nowhere for her to run as two of the guards caught her arms and dragged her back toward them.

More of the guards circled Alda. Orin looked around for an opening, but as they closed in on her, they also encircled him.

“What did you do?” one of them snarled.

Alda kept her hands up as she backed away, but when more of them fell in behind her, she planted her feet and lifted her chin. Her slumped shoulders went back while she glowered defiantly at them.

“Fuck you! And fuck them too! They got what they deserved.” She thrust a thumb over her shoulder at Aurora. “I hope she does too.”

Orin agreed with that sentiment, but they would probably get something, too, as they couldn’t escape the circle of guards. The men and two women had created a barrier that ran three and sometimes four deep in the hall.

Orin twisted to the side to avoid contact with them when two guards seized Alda’s arms and jerked her roughly forward. Another stood so close to his back that his heat caused sweat to bead on Orin’s nape.

To his right, his arm nearly brushed a guard’s while, to his left, the toes of a boot rested against his. If the man moved another centimeter forward, he would kick Orin.

He edged his boot back a little but couldn’t go far as the guard at his back blocked his way. Shit!

He glanced around, but there was no opening for him to slip through, and he didn’t dare try to pull a sword free in these tight confines. He’d hit someone with it or make a noise that could alert them to his location. For now, he remained trapped but still free.

“Check the rooms!” another guard commanded.

A guard reached for the knob to Sheree’s room before halting. “What if the servant is lying and we walk in without permission? Our Lord won’t like that.”

“Once we explain what has happened, she’ll understand.”

The look on the guard’s face said he doubted that, and Orin did too, but the man still turned the knob and entered the room. More guards followed while others entered Desmond’s living area.

Orin remained trapped only a few feet from Alda as the guards dragged Aurora into the small circle and threw her on the ground. She held her head and sobbed as Alda sent her a scathing glare.

A guard picked up the knife she’d foolishly tried to hide and slid it into a holster on his hip. Orin’s hand fell to one of the daggers at his side. A sword would be better, but he could noiselessly free the dagger.

He’d give anything for a sword now. The dagger wouldn’t pierce as deeply through flesh or chop off a head as cleanly, and he had no doubt he could wield a sword as easily with one hand as he had with two.

During their many training sessions together, his father had insisted Orin and all his brothers learn to fight with one hand in case an injury disabled the other. He’d continued practicing it over the years, but right now, the dagger would have to do.

A few seconds later, a couple of guards staggered out of Sheree’s room. They’d all paled visibly and had no idea what to do as a few stumbled down the hall before stopping and returning.

“It’s… it’s true,” one of them stammered.