Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(62)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“What do you reckon, Petey—is that the right spot?”

Petey took off, leaving me behind, charging forward to break apart a group of knights with a spritely bound; they jumped back, laughing and petting his head eagerly.

Falcon frowned at the dog, then looked up—looked around, his wide eyes relaxing as soon as he saw me.

I waved; he nodded casually and went back to his conversation.

“Hey!” Eric stumbled, drunk and loud, toward me. “Kiddo? What took you so long?”

“That woman!” I charged into the glow of the bonfire and stopped right in front of Mike. “She practically gave me a full exposition. I only just broke free. See?” I unravelled the blanket I brought from my bedroom and showed the same skirt and white top I was wearing earlier. “I didn’t even have time to change.”

“Wow.” Mike handed me a plastic cup. “You must have been desperate to get out of there.”

My gaze narrowed, watching him sip his drink, his eyes shifting edgily. “Why do I get the sudden feeling you had me kept under deliberate imprisonment?”

“Beats me.” He shrugged, sniffing once before turning and walking toward the group Petey was in.

I looked down at the cup of cola in my hand—at the bubbles popping, then let out a long breath. The bonfire crackled in front of me, its rising embers floating on the heat to the tops of the trees, like orange fairies, while the gentle glow spread warmth out over the clearing, giving a kind of border to the intimate little gathering.

After a few more breaths, the burning timber, with its homely smell of winter smoke, simmered my irritation down another notch. I settled myself against the trunk of a tree a few meters away from the fire and watched the knights sit in companionship around the blaze, talking and joking with a kind energy you’d see on people celebrating.

“Hi.” A man fell heavily beside me, spilling his drink near my shoe.

I looked up from the sloppy mess on the bark-covered floor and into a pair of black, smiling eyes. “Hey, Blade.”

“Tough day?” he asked.

“You have no idea. That woman was a nightmare.”

“Well, it’s over now.” He reached across and, with the tips of his fingers, untangled a small piece of bonfire ash from my hair.

“Thanks.” I smiled then blew it away.

“So, My Queen? Who will you be sinking your teeth into first tonight?”

The key to nightmares I’d locked up turned inside me, opening the door; I looked away.

“Hey, what’s up?” He gently turned my face back.

“It’s just…whenever I think of human blood, it reminds me of…of…”

“Of when you were tortured?”

I nodded, pressing my lips in. “You know about that, huh?”

He nodded. “It was one of our first lessons.”

“I…I feel trapped, you know. When I taste it, it makes me feel like I’m laying flat on my back again, with someone doing things to me I don’t want them to do. And I can’t make it stop.”

He wrapped his arm over my shoulder. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to do it tonight, I’ll talk to Mike for you. Hey?” He laughed then. “Maybe I can get you drunk, and you can pretend to pass out.”

“Thanks, Blade.” The bile in my throat flooded away with a small laugh, but came back as I watched Mike for a moment. “I don’t think I’ll be doing any drinking, though.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I’m under age, for one.”

“And two?” Blade pressed.

“Two?” Two is that the last time I drank alcohol, I lost my mother and baby brother. “Two is I don’t drink.”

“Smart girl.” He nodded and sipped his. “So, where did you get your name—it’s really…”

“Odd?” I grinned.

“Well, I was going to say pretty, but since you said it first.” He nodded. “Yeah, odd.”

“Um.” I shuffled, wriggling the dirt and bark off my upper thigh, sticking where my skirt rose up a little. “Amara was my grandmother’s name.”

“What about the ‘Rose’ part?” he asked, and his English accent sounded smoother than usual; I smiled to myself.

“Well, that was supposedly because my skin was like the softness of a rose petal.”

“Really?” He lifted his hand, his touch hovering above my arm. “May I?”

I let the blanket fall away and closed my eyes as Blade stroked his fingertip down my skin. “Yeah. Beautiful. Wow. Who’d have thought?”

I leaned my elbows over my knees and sat forward; the distant warmth of the firelight glowed against my bare arms. “So what’s your real name then?”

“That’s kind of the point of a nickname, Ara—so you don’t have to use your real name.” He ran his hands over his hair, sitting back against the tree trunk, a wide grin lighting up his eyes.

“But I want to know. I’m curious.”

“Why?”

“I know all the other knights’ names.”

Blade looked around, checking the darkness of the dry, leafy forest, then looked at the fire again. “It’s like a scar, my name. It’s a part of my past I don’t really want to wear.”

“Why?”

He shrunk a little. “I’ve done some bad things. Before I jumped onto the right side of the fence, I…well, let’s just say I had a rough start. I don’t really wish to wear my father’s name.”

“So, it’s your surname you don’t like?”

He shrugged.

“Well, what’s your first name?”

He hesitated. “Thomas.”

“Thomas,” I said to myself. “Nice. So, can I call you Tom?”

He breathed out through his smile and shook his head.

“What?” I shrugged. “I was serious.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t answer you.” He picked up a stick and started snapping it into pieces. “Look, Ara, I like you—but we’re not even supposed to be talking like this.” Blade looked over at Mike. “If he thinks for one second that I’m crossing the line between guard and . . .” He shrugged, one corner of his lip lifting into his cheek. “He’ll kick me outta the Core.”

I nodded. “Okay. Blade, it is.”

He groaned, leaning back slightly. “No, call me Tom—but only in private. Okay?”

A smile forced itself across my face. “Okay, Tom-but-only-in-private.”