The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #4)(61)

“I did. Apparently, if I want to abuse her and devour what’s left of her soul, I need to do it quickly,” Seth replied with a grin.

“Way to reassure a frightened girl, Seth. You are truly a lady’s man,” Finn said dryly.

“I try,” Seth murmured, his gaze moving to Zoelyn once more. “Follow me or be dragged, you choose,” he said as he turned to walk from the room.

“I’d follow,” Finn urged with a quick nod. “He meant that part about dragging.”

“I never accepted your deal,” Zoelyn pointed out, her eyes flashing between Finn and Seth as the Assassin paused in the doorway, looking back at her with mild annoyance.

Finn chuckled and shook his head at her. “You didn’t have to. It’s all you are getting from me. Sorry, hun. Friend or not, I told Seth he could help you. I can’t send you back without breaking my word to him, and he is the only friend I have in this wretched place. I’m not about to break my word to him.”

Zoelyn stared at him for a long moment and nodded. She could understand Finn’s logic and couldn’t fault him for it despite how much she wanted to wail like a child. Turning, she headed for the door with resignation written clearly on her face. Finn had been her last savior from Seth’s attention and he had offered her limited hope. She had no choice but to face whatever Seth had in store for her and could only hope she survived it.





*





Firelight danced on the dark stone walls as she followed Seth toward another flight of stairs. The lamps were set at each landing, leaving the areas between thick with shadows. Zoelyn paused, reluctant to continue. The path behind her was just as foreboding, however. Seth continued ahead for a few moments in silence, then slowly stopped and turned to look back at her. His expression was equal parts question and annoyance.

“This is the third flight of stairs we have climbed. How much farther are we going?” Zoelyn’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it still seemed to echo like a scream down the hall.

“Two more flights,” Seth answered calmly as he watched her. The questioning part of his expression had faded, leaving only the annoyance.

Her gaze returned to the shadows and she nodded reluctantly and forced herself up the few stairs that separated them. She had expected him to continue, but he held his ground and watched her approach.

“There is nothing in the entire Darklands that would attack me directly, little Undrae. As long as you walk behind or beside me you have no reason to watch the shadows so closely. While you may not know what is there, I do, and it is all terrified of me,” Seth said with a faint hint of amusement. He didn’t bother to wait for her to respond; he simply turned and began walking once more up the seemingly endless stairs.

“Why won’t you call me by my name? You know I hate that word,” Zoelyn muttered as she stumbled after him. Fatigue was quickly overcoming her fear of Seth. She had been awake nearly twenty hours and even when fully rested she was weak compared to others. Her stamina had never been an issue before, though. Dominic knew she was sickly and never asked much from her, and with Jala her life had been even simpler. Jala asked nothing of her at all, beyond the attempts to learn about her powers. Seth, on the other hand, seemed inclined to push her until she dropped. Her feet were already raw and bleeding from the barefoot journey through the city and palace.

“When I know your name, I will use it. Zoelyn is not your name. Until I learn who you truly are, you are Undrae,” Seth respon ded calmly.

“I don’t know Seth is truly your given name should I call you demon instead?” Zoelyn grumbled.

“Call me Crow king. Call me Demon. Call me bastard,” Seth shrugged and smiled at her. “They all fit and none of them offend me. I’ve earned those names. Finn believes my current existence bothers me for the wrong reasons. It’s not what I am that pisses me off, it’s the fact that I died to become it. I was called a demon long before I actually became one. The word itself has lost all insult. What I hate is the reminder that I lost.”

“In the stories, you are an evil spirit,” Zoelyn said with a glance in his direction. She wasn’t sure how well he would welcome the topic of his reputation, but the conversation was keeping her mind from her aching body and her exhaustion.

“I think I’ve been dead for so long that most have forgotten who I was in life. Only the High Lords truly remember me now. In their stories, I am so much worse than an evil spirit.” His voice had a wistful quality and he shrugged again. “Water under the bridge. I don’t care what they say about me now. They can believe I’m simply a spirit and it works in my favor. They will think I’m weak and can be bound. By the time they recognize their error they will be dead.”

“Who?” Zoelyn asked with concern. From his words it sounded as though Seth wanted to kill everyone that spoke of him.

He paused on the landing of the next stairs and motioned to a step. Zoelyn watched him in confusion until he lowered himself gracefully to sit and motioned once again for her to join him. His gaze dropped to her feet and the blood smeared tracks she had left on the stairs. “You complain about what I call you, but you don’t complain about wounds. It makes no sense,” Seth sighed.

“Undrae is more painful than scrapes,” Zoelyn replied softly as she eyed the stair with longing. “I’m not sure I will have the energy to get back up if I allow myself to rest. Can we please just continue?”