The King's Cursed Bride

Vengeance

Her pang of surprise was quickly doused. It seemed he had taken her request to leave seriously. Perhaps that was for the best. She doubted he'd approve of her quest to hunt that man down anyway.

When her knees finally buckled, she barely managed to fling her arms out in front of her and catch herself. She lowered herself to the ground, facing the warmth of the pyre.

Night was about to descend, and though the air was cooling, it was nothing compared to the chill inside of her. She wondered if she'd ever feel truly warm again. She drifted off to sleep, the fire glowing yellow behind her eyelids.

***

Carissa rolled onto her side with a moan, her sore muscles aching from the slight movement. She reached over for her husband, as she'd done on nights passed. But she only grasped a fistful of dirt.

That's right. Elon had left with Mera. And in his absence, he'd allowed her to watch the massacre of the entire caravan.

Her eyes flung open. The pyre was still smoldering, but had mostly been reduced to blackened wood, gray ash, and white bones. Bitterness festered within her chest, and she cradled it close.

Elon thought that if he could simply tell her he loved her, over and over again, that she would snap back to trusting him as before. But that wasn't how it worked. If he wanted to fully heal their relationship, she'd need an explanation first.

Carissa rose to her feet, searching for Elon. Perhaps he was cleaning up the ruins of the campgrounds. Or fetching breakfast.

It took her a few moments of wandering around the campground to find a single set of footprints leaving the campground. Elon's footprints. And there was no sign that he had come back.

A short, hard laugh escaped her as she realized that she hadn't really expected Elon to leave. Perhaps disappear for a short while, only to come back and tell her that he loved her, ask her if he could heal her. But not truly leave.

Her confidence flickered, her doubt nearly snuffing it. Perhaps she hadn't wanted Elon to leave nearly as much as she'd asserted.

She nearly tripped over something. A wooden toy in the shape of a wagon. One wheel was missing. She picked it up, ignoring how the movement strained her wounds. She spun one intact wheel, and it let out a quiet squeak. Almost like a whimper. As if it knew it had lost its owner permanently.

No, she'd wanted Elon to leave. With Elon gone, she would be free to pursue the one thing she truly wanted: the death of the man who had betrayed the caravan.

Though it was only a suspicion, something told her that she suspected right. The bitterness in the man's eyes had been years-old. She wouldn't put it past him to do something like this, even after Elon's explanation. His bitterness had destroyed his humanity. And she would destroy the rest of him.

Yet, how was she any different? Wasn't she allowing her grief to push others away? To resort to violence, even?

But this was different. What that man had done was vengeance. This was justice.

Carissa allowed herself to shed a few more tears for what she'd lost—for the people, herself, and her husband. But separated as they were, could they still be considered wed?

A past conversation flickered through her memory, of when she'd asked Elon whether or not he was afraid to lose her.

"You're not worried about losing me?"

He laughed. "No, never. You're mine, and nothing can change that now—not even you. Even should you quit loving me, nothing will change my love for you."

She was still his. Even if she pushed him away, even if she wanted nothing to do with his plans, even if she didn't want him back.

Frustration simmered within her at the thought, yet it was strangely comforting at the same time. No matter what she did, he wouldn't love her less. It was unfortunate for Elon that it didn't work the other way around as well.

She wiped the last of her tears, leaving her hands streaked in ash and moisture. She'd done enough mourning. Now was the time to act. To show that scarred man that there was a price to pay for betraying his people. And if need be, she could always cry as she walked.

She forced herself to keep moving, to gather what remained of their supplies. If she remained sitting for too long, she feared her aching muscles would turn stiff and make it nearly impossible to get back up, especially as wounded as she was.

She found canvas she could use for a tent. A dead chicken she could cook over a fire. A rope. An axe. Glowing purple stones. Even a map.

After she had laid out the items, she unrolled the map. Given that there was no sun, or moon and stars come nightfall, orienting it correctly was rather difficult. But she knew the road they had been traversing went from Nysia and eventually lead toward the capital.

There was a spattering of towns up ahead, though none were by the main road. They were all preceded by smaller paths that branched outward. Carissa sat back on her haunches, wincing as the movement tugged at a wound on her back.

All she had was a vague suspicion. If she assumed she were right, that meant the man had met with the group of Reapers within the past eight days. Which left a wide range of areas he could have traveled.

But the Reapers had surely left footprints. There was so many that they must have left a trail through the forest. She could trace them back to where they'd come from. Along the way, she would either find the man or find where his path had intersected that of the Reaper's.

Carissa packed up her remaining supplies and followed the Reapers' footprints on the ash-coated ground. That man would pay for what she'd lost.

***

Author's Note: The sneak peek is up!