Curse of Blades (Blades #1)

Chapter 32

Wildas watched them, then turned to Coulta with an amused smile. "She's gone from telling us not to have sex, to telling us we need to."

Coulta smiled, surprised to realize how much he suddenly needed this time with his husband, a title was still so new that it sent a wave of pure happiness through him.

"I wouldn't argue with the healer's orders," he said, his smile widening into a grin.

Wildas stepped close enough to pull Coulta into his arms. "I suppose you're right."

"Would you like to tell me why you've really been avoiding us at night?" Wildas asked later as they lay tangled in the sheets. "You don't have to, but I want to help, if I can."

Coulta sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "The nightmares are worse every night. I feel restless and can't sleep."

"Why didn't you ask Myri for something? I'm sure she could help."

"It never occurred to me," he admitted. "I've been dealing with this for so long, I never thought to ask her. And you have been helping, in a way."

Wildas ran a hand gently through Coulta's hair. "I wish I could do more. Can you try to sleep now?"

Coulta sighed again. "I think I'll go for a run first." Wildas looked skeptical, so Coulta kissed him lightly. "I won't be gone long, and I'll come back here."

Wildas nodded and gave him a kiss before releasing him. "Take care."

Coulta slipped from the bed. "I will."

In his own room, Coulta dressed in his fighting leathers and slipped a blade into each boot. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to dress for combat, but not to wear his belt. Maybe he was becoming paranoid.

He could feel Wildas watching him as he slipped out the window of the central bedchamber. Once outside, he ran from rooftop to rooftop, enjoying the cool summer night breeze. Then, halfway across the city, he caught a scent in the air.

The smell of woodsmoke wasn't strong in the city because few people needed fires for warmth at this time of the year, and it was too soon to be fixing a morning meal and too late for dinner. What he smelled was a great deal of smoke, as if from dozens of fires. He feared briefly for the farms, but surely someone would have come to the city seeking aid if the farmlands were burning. Reaching the outer wall of the city, he realized it was something worse.

An evil, chilling sensation went down his spine as he looked out over the field below Ryal. It was empty until the treeline, and he couldn't see much beyond those massive branches, even from atop the wall. He could feel, though, that something awful was out there. Deep in his heart he knew exactly who it was.

Then he realized why he couldn't see past the trees: a cloak of magic was resting on the land beyond the forest, an evil, tainted magic that made his blood run cold. It was a magic he'd never encountered before, and it was steeped in blood and death.

But the magic let the smoke from campfires through it, and he realized that what he had thought were clouds were actually wisps of smoke.

Two guards were watching the gate, playing a game of cards by a single lantern's light. Coulta made himself visible and cleared his throat. Both men jumped and grabbed for their swords, knocking cards off the table and almost tipping the lantern over.

Coulta held up one hand. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The guards released their swords and hastily bowed. "We're sorry, Sir Coulta," one of them said. "We didn't notice you approach."

"Because I didn't want you to," he replied.

"What are you doing out here?" the other asked, then quickly added, "Not that I mean any offense. Of course it's not my place to question you."