Page 35 of Wicked Curses
“The arrows can point anywhere on the map. We don’t know how long their points are supposed to be, how much distance they indicate, or if they’re supposed to indicateanything,” Sahira said.
And with those words, she’d come to the same conclusion as him.
“Everything is useless here,” she muttered.
Having finished feeding the animals, Zeth returned to stand beside her. The demon rested his hand on her shoulder again, and Sahira smiled tremulously up at him.
I’m going to have to break his hand, Orin decided as he returned to them.
“Not everything. I still have hope, and I’ve been here for thirty years,” Zeth said.
“I’m not discovering anything new, am I?” Sahira inquired.
“No, but a fresh set of eyes is always welcome. Maybe, one day, it will be what helps us escape this realm.”
“It’s time to get you to work,” Orin said as he rested his hand on the small of Sahira’s back again and drew her away from the demon.
Zeth gave him an amused smile as he released Sahira’s shoulder. Orin didn’t know what to make of that smile; was the demon trying to screw with him or her?
He suspected it was him, as Zeth did seem to be trying to help her through this, but he was getting in Orin’s way. And he wouldn’t let that happen.
“Can I come back and look at this again later?” Sahira inquired.
“Sure,” Zeth said. “I’ll be here for a while; even once I finish feeding, doing the stalls, and exercising the animals, I stick around for a bit. It’s peaceful here.”
“Thanks,” Sahira said.
Great, now he had to return to this shit-smelling place to run interference with the demon. Except he’d come back early to find out exactly what kind of game Zeth was playing.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Orin arrivedat the stable five minutes before Sahira finished at the library. Zeth was talking to the animals as he tossed what looked like baled grass into their stalls.
He didn’t ask where the grass came from; he’d seen it growing by the river. It was one more thing about this place that gave him a headache.
Orin tilted his head to the side as he studied the demon. Most of the demons he’d known were loud, brash, and ruthless. None of them spoke softly or gave any consideration to those they could steamroll over.
Demons loved to fight, and they enjoyed a good kill more. Who was this freak of nature, and what did he want with Sahira?
“You’re a lot different than any of the other demons I’ve known,” Orin commented.
Zeth didn’t look at him as he tossed more grass to the goats. “And you’re no different than any other dark fae I’ve known.”
“Oh, I’m very different,” Orin assured him. He was far more lethal than most, which was saying something, as the dark fae weren’t known to hold back when it came to killing. “What’s your story?”
When Zeth glanced at him, the nearby lantern only illuminated half his face. Orin didn’t trust the demon; he acted calm, caring, and like he was trying to figure out this mystery, buteveryonehad ulterior motives.
Okay, maybe not everyone, but almost everyone. And this demon most certainly did; he was sure of it.
“I don’t have a story,” Zeth replied.
“We all have a story.”
“Then what’s yours?”
“I’m sure you already know it.”
“Second oldest son of King Tove, king of the dark fae.”
