Startled, she released him and turned away before she did something she might regret. Her blood boiled with lust, almost consuming her with its need. She’d kissed him without consent. Gods, but she was out of control. Killing the wolves had unleashed something in her ogre blood she could barely control. Until she understood what was happening, she needed to be far from the tempting scent and taste of him.
Behind her, the elf stammered something, but she couldn’t hear it beyond the roaring in her ears. Pora sprinted past and she ran to catch up. In one graceful movement, she grabbed the mare’s mane and swung herself into the saddle. Pora sprang up and gripped her coat. Rainne kicked the mare and they trotted down the path.
“Is that a cat?” the elf’s melodic voice rang out.
“No,” she shouted over her shoulder.
“I can see its tail!”
“It’s not a cat. You’ve lost a lot of blood. You need a healer. You’re seeing things!” Her words drifted through the trees and she felt the stirrings of something she’d not felt in years—laughter. Not the maniacal giggling of Pora, but pure, true joy.
Pora chuffed, and she was filled with a sense of wonder. She’d been training for years with the sword master, fighting against her ogre impulses to raid and maim, learning to channel her strength to protect the duchy. Tonight, she was able to put her skills to good use. If she hadn’t been there, the elf and his companion would’ve died. She was certain of it. And if he hadn’t been there, she and Pora might’ve died.
Her laughter quieted. Every sunset, she fought against the ogre urges the curse brought. She looked down the path toward the village where the witch hopefully was. Without the curse, what would Rainne be? She’d lived with it for so long, she wasn’t sure anymore who she was. She’d taken liberties with the elf, something no lady would ever do. The ogre in her was getting stronger. If she didn’t break the curse soon, she might lose herself to the monster inside—permanently.
2
The village came into sight just as they cleared the final branches of the forest. The mare had kept a steady pace, but Rainne could feel her lagging energy. She needed food and rest. Even Pora slumped against her back. It had been less than two hours since they left the elf in the woods, which gave them most of the night to complete their task. Rainne hoped it wouldn’t take that long. If she wasn’t in her room by sunrise, well, she wasn’t sure what would happen. She’d never traveled so far from the castle and certainly never into Faerie.
The lands of Faerie were ruled by the two queens—the Unseelie queen in the west, and the Seelie queen in the east. They maintained a cordial relationship with the king and queen of the elf kingdom to the north. Lately, rumors began circulating about tensions mounting between the two realms. Rainne had noticed an increase in the number of brigands who traveled the roads at night, as well as an almost imperceptible sense of nervousness settled over the landscape as a whole. What was causing the turmoil, she’d not yet discovered. One thing was certain—civility between the races was becoming strained.
Especially for the fringe races like orcs and ogres.
She pulled the sleeve of her coat up and frowned. A dark red gash made a ragged trail across the green skin. The wound would be healed when she woke the following morning, but the emerald hue would return at night. Part of her had hoped the curse wouldn’t work outside of their lands. A childish wish, but she’d run out of other options. All the more reason to find the witch and get the curse broken as soon as possible.
With a snap of the reins and a slight kick, she urged the mare forward. The old girl trudged on, her hooves slapping the muddy road. It had rained recently, but not in the forest. Rainne sniffed the air, delighting in the fresh scent. A waft of smells assaulted her and she turned her gaze toward a clump of buildings nearest the forest. Several windows glowed and shadows of people ghosted from one side to the other. She sent a silent prayer to the gods that she’d find the witch in the tavern.
Pora stirred as she turned the mare to the small stable area. “Is this the place?”
“I hope so. If not, we’ll leave the mare here to rest while we search the village.”
Pora leapt to the ground and Rainne dismounted with a groan. She’d have blisters on her thighs for certain from the too-small saddle. She loosened the girth and replaced the bridle with a halter before getting a bag of oats for the mare. A stable boy appeared from the shadows and Rainne gave him two ducaries to look after her horse.
It wasn’t much, but she didn’t expect to be there long. Besides, it wasn’t like she had loads of coin to splash out. Even getting the few ducaries she had in her pouch had been difficult. Her stepfather kept the treasury locked tight and had never thought to give her an allowance. Why would she need it? He never let her out of the castle. All of her expenses were paid for by him, only after he approved them. It was exhausting. Fortunately, the head cook liked fresh pheasant and Rainne was excellent at procuring them. She chuckled at her own cleverness at subverting Finnick’s control.
She patted the mare on the rump and strode across the courtyard to where several men loitered. When they saw her approach, they straightened, identical looks of appraisal crossing their features. Sure, in her dark clothes and hood, she looked attractive enough. But what would they think if she lowered her hood and showed them her face? Would they be alarmed by the hue of her skin? Or would they lick their lips with desire? Not everyone hated ogres, but enough did that she had to be careful. Bedding the wrong man could get her impaled on the pointy end of a blade.
Her blood warmed beneath the jade-tinted flesh. The ogress loved a good challenge. Maybe later. She was there for the witch, not a quick rutting.
“Evenin’, fellas.” She tipped her hood as she passed, inhaling their scents of ale, sweat, and piss. Not exactly enticing. Her mind sprang to the elf and his slightly floral scent, and a tingle ran down her spine. How did a man get to smelling like sweet pea and powder? And why was it so damn alluring?
The men parted and she entered the common room. Several groups stood in clumps around the outer edges of the room, and half the tables were occupied. She scanned them all, not seeing anyone who fit the description of the witch.
“I could use a pint,” Pora whispered and settled onto a chair.
A serving girl squinted in her direction, a snarl lifting her lip. “We don’t serve your kind here.”
Rainne placed a gloved hand on the table to steady the trembling rushing through her blood. “My money’s just as good as theirs.” She nodded toward a group of fae in the corner. “We’re not here to make a scene. We just want a drink.”
The girl wavered then took their order, and Rainne casually watched until she slipped behind a curtain. The rampant beating of her heart didn’t slow as she continued her gaze around the room. She paused on a solitary figure seated in a corner booth. Like her, he kept his hood low over his face, but she had the distinct impression he was studying her as much as she studied him. After a moment, she resumed her survey of the room. The serving girl returned with two mugs. Froth sloshed over the sides when she set them down, and Pora tsked.
“Waste of good ale, that is.” He gripped the mug with both paws and slurped a fourth of the mug’s contents.
No one seemed to mind a cat in fancy dress drinking ale, but Rainne keenly felt the stares of other patrons. A wave of disgust pummeled her like a blast of heat. She’d hoped in Faerie ogres were more readily accepted, but it wasn’t so. If anything, the fae hated ogres even more than elves. She pulled her hood lower and gripped the mug.
Rainne sipped her ale, not wanting to get overly drunk. From everything she’d learned about ogres and their ability to handle alcohol, she was the exception. When an ogre, she had to be careful or after one mug she’d be face down on the table. Life really wasn’t fair. Then again, not having a tolerance for drink was a blessing and a curse. In the years she’d spent as an ogre from sunset to sunrise, there had been many times when she’d welcomed blissful oblivion t
hat wine brought. Even if she didn’t welcome the headache that came with it.
The hooded figure from the corner booth rose. He strolled to the front doors and left the tavern. The stiffness of his gait piqued her curiosity. A heartbeat later, a woman with golden hair and wearing a crimson cape entered through the courtyard door.
Even without the clothing, Rainne knew she was the witch.
At her side, Pora twitched, his whiskers flickered. “You see her?”
“I do.” Rainne raised the mug to her lips, but didn’t drink. She lowered her eyelids while keeping the witch in her peripheral.
She sat in the same booth the hooded man had recently vacated. Rainne swallowed a lump of fear and set her mug on the table. It was now or never.
Rainne waited for the serving girl to leave before she approached the witch. Her muscles were replaced with jelly as she stumbled forward. Sweat dotted her upper lip. She rubbed her slick palms on her coat.
“Excuse me,” she started, her voice cracking.
The woman glanced up, her eyes appraising, lips pursed. “No.”
“What do you mean no? I haven’t asked anything yet.”
“But you will, and the answer is no.” The witch folded her hands over one another on the table.
Despair washed over Rainne like a bucket of ice water. She shivered and gripped the edge of the table. “Please. I’ve been cursed and was told you could help.”
The witch glanced at her with unwavering intensity. Somehow, Rainne managed to stay upright beneath the stare, even though it felt as though the witch were turning her inside out.
“I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”
Tears bit the backs of Rainne’s eyelids and she blinked to keep from blubbering in front of the woman. The ogress never cried. It was the elven part of her that showed emotion. “I’ve come all this way to see you.”
“Then you’re a fool.” Before Rainne could reply, the witch grabbed her hand and pushed the sleeve of her coat past her elbow. She resisted the urge to snatch her arm away. The witch squinted and harrumphed before saying, “Some truths are only skin deep. But then, so are some lies. I can’t help you.” She released Rainne’s hand and settled into the shadows of the booth.
Stunned by the witch’s words, Rainne floundered for a reply. “Do you know who can?”
The witch breathed deep and settled her shoulders. “What you need is to accept yourself.” The woman’s features softened briefly. “Accept all that you are because you can’t change yourself.” She waved a hand, her expression now of boredom. “Now go before I turn you and your companion into fleas.”
Summarily dismissed, devastated, and thoroughly convinced the witch would make good on her threat, Rainne turned away. It had been a long shot, she told herself, one that hadn’t panned out, but there would be more. The lie sank to her gut with a dull ache. There wouldn’t be more. If this witch couldn’t help her, who could? Accept herself. Fat chance of that happening anytime soon. Her life was cursed. There wouldn’t be a spell or cure or miracle to save her. And she for damn sure wouldn’t accept being part ogress. She was well and truly fucked.
Pora hopped off the bench and said nothing as they made their way to the stables. As she rounded the corner to her mare’s stall, a gloved hand covered her mouth and she was shoved against a rough wall. A scream rose to her lips but was silenced by the strong hand holding her in place.
She glanced down to see Pora frozen where he stood, paw ready to withdraw his rapier. His huge eyes went from her to the stranger.
“What did you and the enchantress discuss?” The grip on her mouth lessened, allowing her to speak.
“Who?”
“Acelyne. The woman in the tavern. What did you talk about?”
She felt the cool metal of a blade on the underside of her jaw and swallowed gently. “That’s none of your business.”
The knife pressed into her skin. “I beg to differ. If you value your life, you’ll answer my question.”
Rainne choked back a chuckle. “Value my life? What, this cursed existence I’m forced to tolerate? Go ahead. End it, I beg of you.”
He drew nearer and Rainne gasped at the sight of a cruel scar on his left cheek. His blue eyes glowed with internal magic and a shiver of dread made its way from her hairline to her toes. He bent his head and inhaled from her collarbone to her temple.
“You’re not an ogre, yet you are. Your scent is comingled with something else. Not fae. Elven perhaps. Neither one nor the other.” It wasn’t a question, but more like he was talking to himself out loud. Rainne stilled, her wild heartbeats thumping loudly in her chest. “You’re scared.”
At this she snorted. “A stranger attacks me in a deserted stable and threatens to end my life. You’re damn right I’m scared.” But not for those reasons.
He stepped back and removed the blade. His grip on her arm lessened. Beneath the hood, his jaw tensed. “I need to know what you and Acelyne discussed.”
Rainne let out a long sigh. She didn’t have time to play games and she had a feeling he wouldn’t let her leave until she gave him something. Besides, she had nothing to lose by telling the truth.
“I asked for a cure and she said she couldn’t help me.”
“A cure? That’s all?”
“Look, I don’t know what your business is with her, but I came here tonight because I’d heard she was the best at breaking curses. Apparently, I was misled. Now, if you don’t mind, I have obligations elsewhere.” She pushed past him and grabbed the mare’s bridle off a hook.
When she looked up, the stranger was gone.
Pora rubbed his neck. His tail whipped from side to side. “What was that about?”
“I don’t know, but let’s get out of here before we’re caught up in something we shouldn’t be.”
Rainne cast a last glance at the tavern before she turned the mare toward the Duir Woods. This was not how the night was supposed to go. First, she saved a life, then begged for a stranger to end hers. She glared at the stars blinking overhead. In a few hours, she’d be back in the castle, a prisoner to a curse that couldn’t be broken.
Hot tears streamed over her cheeks and she let them. Pora gripped her coat and made small mewling sounds to comfort her. The witch was her last hope. And yet, she wasn’t ready to give up. Somewhere there had to be a cure. What she needed was a miracle.
She bit her lower lip and tasted salt from her tears. The ogress was mortified at her softness, but Rainne didn’t care. She couldn’t stop searching. Not ever. If she did, the ogress won. It wasn’t like miracles grew on trees. Where the hell would she find one?
3
Sunlight streamed through her drapes and Rainne pulled a pillow over her head. Someone had come in already and tied the bed curtains back, indicating it was time for her to rise. Well, they could suck goose eggs. She’d get up when she was ready and not when someone, namely her stepfather, demanded it.
Pora snuggled into her back, his gentle purr a comfort. Her body ached from the riding and fight with the wolves. She’d take a long soak in the tub and work out her stiff muscles. Later, though. After she had more sleep.
“My lady, your presence is requested with the master.”
Rainne rolled over and glared at Alona. It wasn’t the maid’s fault, but there was no way she could express her anger at the man who deserved it.
Alona lowered her gaze and held out her hands. “He said it was urgent.”
“Come on, Pora. We’ve been summoned.”
Within twenty minutes, Rainne was dressed, coifed, and as presentable as possible. Instead of meeting in the breakfast room, Rainne was directed to her stepfather’s study. Her stomach gave a hearty growl of disapproval and for a moment, she considered rebuffing her orders and grabbing a quick bite. Unfortunately, her mother had raised a lady and as much as she’d like to ignore her stepfather, her upbringing and manners prevented it. For the time being, he was master of the castle and she his ward.
Without botherin
g to knock, Rainne opened the door to the study and swooped in, a fake smile on her face.
“Good morning, Stepfather. I do hope you have good news for me this day. Otherwise, why request my presence at such an early hour?” Her honeyed tone made her cringe. She resented the game she had to play of being nice to him. She could be an outright harpy to him, but why? It would make their days longer, their interactions even more awkward. As much as she hated it, she was his ward until her mother perished or woke up. Until then, she’d made a promise to herself she would treat her stepfather with polite courtesy, but not much more.
Besides, she grudgingly acknowledged, he did his best to protect the duchy during the day. She at least owed him gratitude for that.
At her arrival, Finnick turned from a book he’d been reading and met her sugary smile with a look of utter dread. She faltered in her step. The unease quickly lifted from his features and affection slid into place. She braced herself for the worst and waited to hear the words she feared most.
“Darling.” He set the book down and held his hands out to her; she grasped them. He kissed both cheeks, then held her gaze for a long moment. Hidden in the depths of his brown eyes she again saw dread lurking.
Dear gods, the time had finally come. Her mother had slipped beyond this world to the next. Rainne’s heart stuttered and skipped. Tears bit her eyes and she blinked rapidly to keep them from falling.
“What’s the matter? Is it Mother? Is she…?”
Finnick shook his head. “It’s not your mother.” He fumbled with the pocket watch he always wore—the one that tracked sunrise and sunset as well as told the time. She couldn’t remember a time he didn’t have the watch tucked neatly into a waistcoat pocket, even before she was cursed.
Sunset, She Fights Page 2