The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #4)(67)

His horse pranced nervously beneath him and Seth stiffened in the saddle. His gaze swept over the surrounding forest and then to the small house. As far as he could tell, nothing was out of place. Everything looked just as it always did. His eyes swept over the yard once more, counting the scattered hens before moving to the stable yard. Dashara’s small sorrel mare stood in the paddock, eating peacefully.

“I think you are getting as paranoid as I am, Crow,” Seth murmured as he ran a hand down his black’s neck. It would stand to reason that the horse would be paranoid, he supposed. The gelding had been through every battle Seth had fought, not to mention the quieter missions in the dead of night that Dashara didn’t know about. Pushing the thoughts back, Seth pressed his heels lightly into Crow’s sides, urging the gelding forward once more. The horse snorted loudly and tossed his head before breaking into a quick trot. “Not sure what has gotten into you, but you can sort through it in the stall,” Seth grumbled as they neared the stable door.

He glanced toward the house as he dropped from the saddle. Dominic usually ran out to greet him when he returned home. The door was still shut, though, with no sign of his son anywhere. With a frown Seth grabbed the reins and led his horse toward the stable. Crow gave another loud snort as Seth pulled the door open. The gelding danced back, his eyes rolling, pulling the reins free of Seth’s hand as he whirled and ran.

With a muffled curse, Seth dropped flat against the barn wall, one hand on his dagger. He hadn’t seen anything inside, and all of the animals in the barnyard were behaving normally, but Crow had bolted. Crow never bolted.

“Smart horse you have there, Seth,” a man’s voice called from inside. It was low and calm with no trace of the Avanti accent.

“Who are you and what the bloody hell are you doing in my barn,” Seth growled back as he raised his dagger before him and tilted the blade toward the open door. The light caught the polished metal and for a moment it served as a mirror into the barn. He caught a glimpse of a figure moving to the left of the doorway and readied himself to attack.

“You might want to reconsider throwing that dagger. You might accidently hit Dominic here. You don’t want to do that, do you, Seth?”

The voice paused and took on a sweeter note. “Tell your daddy not to hurt you, Dominic. That would be wrong, wouldn’t it?”

“Daddy, please don’t.” Dominic’s childish voice was louder than the stranger’s, with a note of pleading in it that sent shards of pain through Seth’s chest.

“Where is mommy, Dominic?” Seth called carefully, trying to keep the desperation from his words.

“Dashara is inside waiting for you, Seth. We just have to settle a few things first,” the man replied calmly. “Toss that dagger on the ground and step around the wall. I have a game for you Seth. I know you must love games. You would have to after all of the time you have spent playing hide and go seek with High Lord Avanti.”

“Who are you?” Seth demanded as he obeyed the man’s order and tossed the dagger to the grass. It hardly mattered; he had plenty more to use. He never carried just one weapon.

“I’m wounded, Seth. Do you really not know who I am?” Mockery laced the man’s every word and Seth prayed there would be a way to land a dagger without risking Dominic.

Muscles tensed, he pushed off the wall and stepped inside the barn quickly. The man stood just inside, leaning against Crow’s stall with one leg balanced on the wall. Dominic sat on his upraised leg while the stranger’s arm supported him and held him firmly in place. He couldn’t tell much about the man beyond his basic build. The long gray cloak he wore covered every detail that Seth could have used to identify him.

“I have no idea who you are, but it was a remarkably bad idea to use my son against me,” Seth replied in a low voice that would have sent most running. Everyone on Sanctuary knew him, and most had known of him before Sanctuary even existed. This man had to either be a complete fool or a clueless pup to prod him in his own home.

“Tsk, Tsk. You of all people should know me. We are the topic of enough gossip you know. Everyone is always speculating which of us is better…” The man’s voice trailed off and Seth could feel pleasure radiating from him. “Time to give them all the answer, Seth. Let’s decide here and now who is the better Assassin, you or me.”

“Hemlock,” Seth breathed as panic welled in his chest. It wasn’t that he was scared of the man in a fight, it was the fear of what the man had already had time to do. Dashara could be dead already.

“Good, now that you have that figured out, we can move on to the important things,” Hemlock began. “How did you find me?” Seth demanded before Hemlock had a chance to continue his torment.

“You went on a rescue mission today and it was a complete success. Did it seem just a bit too easy, Seth?” Hemlock asked in a mocking voice. “It should have. I gave very strict orders to allow you free reign while I located your horse. Funny thing, the bastard must have recognized my scent when you got here. Maybe he was feeling guilty and that’s why he ran,” Hemlock mused.

“What?” Seth asked in utter confusion. Hemlock was right the mission had been far too simple and it had been eating at him for most of the ride home.

Hemlock sighed dramatically and tilted his head upward as if beseeching the gods for patience. “I could have had you today, Seth. I was right there the entire time. That wasn’t the deal, though. The High Lord wanted Dashara and your bastards as well. So I had to make this a family affair.” Hemlock paused and shrugged one shoulder as if in a halfhearted apology. “See, you have been a royal pain in the ass for House Avanti, but the real trouble maker is Dashara. He wants her dead and he wants you to suffer. Yet, he has tried for four years to make that happen and keeps failing. So he hired me, and here we are.” Hemlock raised one hand and waved it lightly between the two of them. “You f*cked up, Seth. You always ride the same horse, and it’s a rather nice one at that, very easy to find. Every peasant for three hundred miles knows the Crow King’s horse, and there aren’t many Veir bred mounts in Avanti. I think Crow may be the only one, and he is a smart one, just like everyone says the Veir horses are. He remembered the way home perfectly. All it took was a quick mind scan to solve the mystery of where you hide. So, thanks to your horse, and thank you as well, Seth. Without your favoritism, I wouldn’t have found you nearly this easily.”