MISTBORN x GAME OF THRONES
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If Cadence had said no to a blood spirit, the noble family she worked for would still be alive.
Her brother wouldn't be conscripted into the Hall of Games.
She wouldn't have to follow hi...
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CHAPTER FOUR
Curses slew the air as Cadence tore through the marketplace. She leaped over chickens, narrowly avoided a collision with a cabbage wagon, and trod on more shoes and boots than she could count. Her hair flew behind her, exposing her face to the cruel, biting wind.
She almost ran into a horse. There was no collision, but the shock was enough to seize up her body. The horse reared up on its hind legs. Cadence fell, and she threw her arms before her face, bracing herself for the hoof fall.
It did not come. Cadence cracked open her eyes. The blurry dark shape of a cloaked man came into view, then the sharper details—black cloak, shiny gauntlets, great sword strapped to the belt, bandolier, ringed band on the right shoulder, and a white wolf mask.
The Capital Kesatria from the library.
Cadence scrambled to her feet, mumbling an apology. She fled, praying to the Dewas that he would not follow her. She could feel his eyes on her back as she disappeared into the forest.
The Kesatria must not know she had set the Polong free. If they did, they would torture her and then kill her for the destruction of House Orelik. Cole and her father would be executed alongside her, for the nobility punished by the family.
No, they can execute me, but not Cole, not Papa.
Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard, she feared it might puncture a hole through her chest. Her fingers curled around her rope bracelet, praying for the Dewas' help.
The Dewas' names were a loud distorted mantra in her head. She repeated them over and over again even as she reached her home, threw the door open and fell onto the ground in a sobbing wreck.
Cole was at work, she thanked the Dewas, or else he would be asking her questions, questions she did not want to answer. She twisted her fingers until she could not feel them, but it did little to stop the shivering.
Unable to walk, she dragged herself toward the bucket of melted snow, thrust her hand into the bucket and brought up the water in heavy splashes. The cold water was like ice shards to her face, but she needed the pain to distract her.
Stupid. Stupid. She banged her forehead against the cabinet. What was she thinking? She shouldn't have trusted the Polong. She knew it, she knew the Polong would try to make her set it free by offering her a chance to heal her father. Her father had warned her about creatures of dark magic, again and again, but she had turned a deaf ear to his advice.
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