A Cursed Kiss (Myths of Airren Book 1)

by Jenny Hickman

  I tripped over my own feet, and my shin collided with a wooden stool.

  “Are you all right?” Tadhg asked, the tilt of his lips proving he already knew the answer.

  “Don’t do that.” My words were a strangled plea.

  The smirk disappeared. “Do what?”

  He knew bloody well what he had done. “Use your magic on me.”

  He started shaking his head. “I wasn’t—”

  “You were! I could smell it.” It clung to my tongue. Invaded my pores. Making me want this. Want him. Because there was no way I would feel this unbidden desire for a creature without it.

  His head tilted, and he studied me until clinical coldness replaced the warmth in his glowing green gaze. “Sometimes it slips free without my permission,” he said quietly, looking down at his flexing hands. “I will try to control it better.”

  What was this? Tadhg was giving in? No lewd comment? No inappropriate suggestions?

  I offered a cautious, “Thank you,” straightened my skirts with clammy hands, and nodded toward the door. “Shall we go?”

  Tadhg held the door and gestured for me to go first. My arm brushed against his chest as I passed, leaving me hurrying outside to put some distance between us.

  Strips of sunshine fell between the clouds, bringing shoppers to the market in droves. I bought a currant-filled bun topped with sweet cream and a sack of rolls for Padraig. Feeling a new level of optimism after Tadhg’s promise to control his magic, I offered to get one for Tadhg as well. He rolled his eyes, said he was perfectly capable of purchasing his own food, and bought two apple fritters smothered in icing.

  He polished off one after the other, only pausing to lick the icing from his fingers. Again that thing stirred, but I smelled no magic, so it couldn’t have been Tadhg.

  He caught me watching and offered a slow, feline smile. I pretended to check out the vendor behind me, unable to focus on the pottery displayed around the wooden stall.

  Tadhg moved through the crowded marketplace with his shoulders straight and head held high but stayed close to the vendors. His eyes darted to the least crowded sections, as if searching for an exit.

  Two young women stopped beside him to giggle behind their gloved hands and titter like simpletons. Tadhg wiggled his fingers in a flirtatious wave, and I considered pushing the lot of them into the smelly fish stall.

  Did they have no backbone? Weren’t they taught to avoid creatures like him at all costs? I was beginning to think I was in the minority when it came to possessing any sense of propriety.

  “Are you always this serious?” Tadhg asked.

  I found him watching me, his head tilted and hair falling over his forehead. “Excuse me?”

  He tapped the space between my eyebrows, and I smacked his hand away. “You’ve been scowling ever since we met.”

  Smiling used to feel as natural as breathing. Now it took too much effort. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Like death and murder?”

  I rolled my eyes. If he wasn’t careful, I was going to murder him. “Among other things.”

  “What do you like to do when you’re not on a quest for vengeance?” he asked, running his fingers through the wildflowers tied into bouquets sitting on a wagon.

  The colorful blooms made me think of joy and freedom—two things that had been lacking in my life since Aveen had passed.

  “Why do you care?” I touched the silky, delicate petals on an arrangement of purple and white hydrangeas. I loved these pure, unblemished flowers. They reminded me of what I used to be.

  Tadhg’s eyes met mine over his shoulder. “Is it not considered polite conversation to ask after one’s favorite pastimes? I could tell you a few of mine if you’d like.” His gaze fell to my skirt, and instantly I became hyper-aware of the soft material swaying against my skin.

  After seeing those rouge stains yesterday, I had a fairly good idea of what Tadhg’s favorite pastime was.

  Spools of delicate lace and bolts of fine fabric filled the next stall. Dressing up for parties used to be one of my favorite things to do. The bolder the dress, the better. I’d wanted to be seen and heard—and loved. All it took was one glance at my drab, boring gown to remember that death had made me a shadow.

  “I suppose I enjoy reading,” I said, moving on. As a child, I’d loved getting lost in a good fairy tale. Of course, that led to my obsession with finding my own dashing hero. Unfortunately, my social circle had been filled with cads more interested in lifting a girl’s skirts than sweeping her off her feet.

  Tadhg peered at me from beneath impossibly dark lashes. “I enjoy reading as well.”

  Damn it all—the confession made my stomach flutter.

  We had one thing in common. So what? There were a lot of people in this world who liked to read.

  “I used to enjoy riding,” I told him. Growing up, Aveen and I had visited Padraig at the stables nearly every day. He always had horses saddled for us and waiting. We would race along the seashore, salty water spraying against our faces from the crashing waves. That was freedom. That was joy.

  That was gone.

  “So do I,” Tadhg said with a wink before meandering toward a cluster of stalls selling fruit and veg.

  The fluttering was getting out of control. “You know I meant horses.”

  His nose wrinkled and he made a face. “Too dangerous and not nearly as fun.”

  What was I doing? I shouldn’t be engaging in such shameless banter with him. We had twelve days left. Twelve.

  Then he would go his way and I would go mine and all would be right in the world because my sister would be back.

  Someone like Tadhg didn’t fit into my life.

  Not that I wanted him to.

  Talk about disasters.

  Tadhg picked up a ripe red apple from a fruit stall and took a crunching bite. His tongue caught the juice spilling onto his lips.

  “You didn’t pay for that,” I hissed, catching his sleeve and searching for the cart owner. Thankfully, the elderly gentleman was busy helping a woman load a bunch of carrots and potatoes into a basket.

  “You really do think the worst of me, don’t you?” Tadhg nodded to a copper coin on the plank beside the apples.

  A coin he hadn’t left with his hand.

  “Have you lost your mind?” I tugged him closer so that my voice wouldn’t carry. “You can’t do that here. Someone may see you.” Didn’t he know how things worked on this island? The only thing worse than possessing magic was practicing it. If he was caught using his magic, he could be executed. And where would that leave me?

  Tadhg rolled his eyes and took another bite. “How do you know it wasn’t a simple sleight of hand? You were too busy looking at this”—he tossed the apple into the air—“to notice what was happening over here.” There were now two coins on the plank, and a second apple had appeared in his hand.

  He gave it to me.

  Tadhg bit into his apple once more before offering the same challenging look he had when the wheel had disappeared. This had to be more than a parlor trick. He had used magic. It was bad enough being seen strolling through the market with him. But to be associated with magic? My reputation was already shot, but I didn’t want to end up locked in a cell.

  I twisted away in time to see a little boy in short pants and braces barrelling toward us, his head turned to look over his shoulder. Before I could shout a warning, the boy bounced off Tadhg’s legs and landed on the ground.

  Darkness flashed in Tadhg’s eyes.

  A bolt of lightning shot through my veins. Creatures had killed for less.

  “Don’t hurt him!” I grabbed Tadhg’s arm and his muscles went taut beneath my fingers. “It was an accident.”

  Tadhg jerked free and knelt in the dirt.

  The boy’s wide eyes darted to me.

  “When you’re being chased, always keep your eyes forward,” Tadhg said in a serious tone. “Checking what’s behind you will only slow you down.” He ruffled th
e boy’s sand-colored hair and then stood and offered the boy a hand. The boy hesitated before accepting.

  “My apologies, sir,” a gray-haired woman wheezed, pink-cheeked and winded. She yanked the boy back by the collar. “This one has less manners than sense.”

  Tadhg pulled an apple from the cart and handed it to the boy. “I’ve always believed manners were overrated.”

  Three coins.

  Tadhg smiled at them both. His eyes crinkled at the corners, making him look young and impish.

  The woman’s lined face paled and she shoved the boy behind her skirts. “We want nothing from yer sort,” she spat, ripping the apple from the boy’s hands and shoving it back at Tadhg.

  Yer sort . . .

  She must have noticed his ears.

  I could understand her wariness, but Tadhg hadn’t done anything wrong.

  The boy peeked around the woman’s skirts. Tadhg winked and patted his own pocket. Sure enough, there was an apple-sized bulge in the boy’s pocket. He grinned, revealing a missing front tooth.

  “Beware the creatures infesting this land—demons come to steal your children and feast on your souls!” A stooped man in bloodred robes climbed onto a set of stone stairs in front of the cathedral.

  All traces of humor on Tadhg’s face vanished. The woman ushered the boy away, against the crowd swelling toward the steps.

  I turned the apple over in my hand.

  Tadhg hadn’t made any attempts to feast on my soul. And instead of kidnapping or killing that boy, he had given him advice.

  “We’ve been charged by our Sovereign to eradicate the blight of magic plaguing this island,” the crier bellowed to the growing crowd forming around him. “The creatures are not to be trusted. None of us are safe until they are wiped from Airren altogether!”

  Don’t trust the creatures.

  It was a lesson we humans had been taught since birth.

  But wiping them from the island?

  That sounded wrong.

  I dared another glance at Tadhg.

  High cheekbones beneath tanned skin. Strong jaw flexing in irritation. Perfect lips made for sinful things.

  I had kissed my fair share of boys—a consequence of growing up pretending to be a fairy tale princess. Most of them hadn’t been worth remembering.

  If Tadhg kissed me—

  Don’t trust the creatures.

  I shoved the apple into my cloak pocket.

  This was how they worked, burrowing into your head until you couldn’t get rid of them.

  I needed to be more vigilant.

  “If you see one, be wary. If it tries to trick you into giving it refuge, send it away,” the crier shouted, red-faced with passion. “If it tries to harm you . . . end its miserable life.”

  Murmurs from the crowd lifted in agreement.

  “And you think we’re the monsters,” Tadhg muttered under his breath before turning on his heel and stalking toward the carriage.

  Of course they were the monsters . . . weren’t they?

  8

  Padraig gave me a worried look from his bench behind the horses when I dropped off his rolls. “Is everything all right, milady? Yer man seems in an awful temper.”

  “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.” Yesterday, climbing into a carriage with an angry creature would’ve sounded like suicide. Today, I found myself drawn toward the vehicle, like I couldn’t have stayed away if I tried.

  Inside, I found Tadhg seated on the trunk, his head in his hands.

  “My people were here centuries before you humans,” he said quietly, raking his fingers through his hair, “and they’ll be around long after fools like that crier turn to dust.”

  I eased onto the bench and smoothed a hand down my wrinkled skirts. “You cannot blame us for being fearful.” The creatures wielded magic and hid in the shadows, waiting to pounce. Our fear kept us vigilant. Our fear kept us safe.

  “Is that why you have such a problem with me?” His voice softened, and he sagged against the carriage wall. “Because you’re afraid?”

  “I’m not—” The lie left my head throbbing and tongue swelling. Infernal bloody curse. One lie. That’s all I wanted.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “All right. Part of me is afraid.” I blew out a frustrated breath, instantly feeling better.

  “Why? What have I done that’s so terrifying?” he asked, shaking his head. “Yes, I took the carriage wheel, but that was because you insisted on traveling to a town crawling with mercenaries and bounty hunters, and I didn’t fancy my head on a feckin’ pike at sundown.”

  Padraig whistled and cracked the whip. The carriage lurched forward, and I braced myself against the drapes. Swearing, Tadhg gripped the handles on the trunk when his head slammed against the wall.

  How was I to know the town wasn’t welcoming toward creatures? “You could have explained instead of putting all of us in danger. The monsters—”

  “Don’t call us—” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Monsters. Don’t call us that.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” This truce—whatever it was—was proving difficult. “What should I call you?”

  For some reason, my question made him chuckle. “You could always try calling us by our names. We have those, you know.” His teeth scraped over his bottom lip, drawing my attention to his mouth. What was it about his lips that made my own mouth go dry?

  “But collectively, I suppose you could refer to us as the Danú,” he finished.

  “The Danú?”

  His brow furrowed. “The Tuatha Dé Danaan? Tuath Dé? Tribe of Danú?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what any of those mean.”

  “What nonsense are they teaching you humans these days?” he muttered, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning toward me.

  “You heard the crier. You creatures—you Danú—consume souls.”

  “Souls? Unless your soul is made of shortbread”—he flicked his wrist, conjuring a basket of biscuits from thin air—“we’re not likely to consume it.”

  Bloody hell.

  How did he do that? Could he summon anything he wanted? The heavenly aroma of vanilla wafting from the buttery golden treats made my stomach rumble. “Even if you don’t consume souls, you could still kill us.” With me dead, he could take my silver without bringing me to Tearmann. Come to think of it, why hadn’t he done that already?

  “That argument makes no sense. Technically, anyone can kill anyone. The little lad from the market could kill you if you gave him the right weapon.”

  “Yes, but you’re all evil and you hate humans.” And since they possessed magic, they’d be nearly impossible to stop.

  Tadhg blinked at me. Slowly, he raised the shortbread biscuit and took a bite. Crumbs tumbled down his waistcoat, landing in his lap.

  I shifted under the intensity of his stare, wishing he would find something else to look at. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  The shortbread crunched between his teeth when he took another bite. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he chewed.

  “Stop looking at me.”

  Shaking his head, he brushed the crumbs from his lap. “I’m waiting for you to realize how ridiculous you sounded just then.”

  What was he on about? He’d asked what we’d been taught, and I’d answered.

  “How can anyone with even an ounce of intelligence make such a blanket statement about an entire group of people? Humans murdered my father and my mother. Humans stole my family’s land. Humans have taken more from us than you could ever imagine, and yet I am still willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Why wouldn’t you be willing to do the same for us?”

  Humans had done all of those terrible things to him? And yet he was still sitting in this carriage.

  Tadhg was right. That naïve statement sounded dreadfully ignorant. He was only the second Danú I had met, and he wasn’t anything like I’d thought he’d be. I’d be
en taught that magic was evil and that those who possessed it were to be feared. But I didn’t know these people. How could I judge them based on the murderous Gancanagh and vile Fiadh?

  How could I assume all of them truly hated us as much as we were taught to hate them?

  Tadhg stuffed the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. The carriage bucked forward, rattling the windows and jarring my teeth.

  “It’s like Padraig is aiming for the feckin’ things,” Tadhg grumbled, catching the basket of shortbread before it clattered to the floor.

  “Aiming for what things?”

  “Hmmm?” He glanced at me, startled. “Oh, nothing. It’s just the rivets dig into my ass every time we hit a bump.” Wincing, he shifted his weight on the trunk.

  Desperate to make up for the terrible things I’d said and the horrible way I had been treating him, I offered Tadgh a smile and suggested he magic-up a pillow.

  “One cannot simply ‘magic-up’ items,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  “Says the man with the basket of magical biscuits.” If I had such magic, I’d fill this whole carriage with pillows and sleep the entire way to Tearmann.

  He chewed on his lip as he stared inside basket. “I shifted the biscuits from someplace else. A sleight of hand—without my hands.”

  When my stomach let out a low growl, Tadhg tilted the basket toward me.

  If it hadn’t been enchanted, I would’ve eaten the whole lot. My stomach howled again even as I turned it down. “Then why don’t you shift a pillow to help with the trunk?”

  “If I am comfortable, I will sleep,” he said through a heavy exhale, brushing crumbs onto the floor. “And if you murder me in my sleep, then I won’t be very happy, now will I?”

  Tadhg thought I was going to murder him? That was ludicrous. I wouldn’t murder anyone—

  What was I thinking?

  The reason we had met was because I needed to kill the Gancanagh. How did he know this wasn’t a common occurrence? That I wasn’t like the humans who had killed his parents?

  “You’ve been sleeping all week, and I have yet to murder you,” I pointed out.