Assassin of Curses: (The Coren Hart Chronicles Book 3) by Jessie Eaker (best novels in english TXT) 📕

those forms. But what exactly had been happening to her? She was being trained for something. Something difficult. And harshly. But what? No wonder she rarely smiled. I could still feel the echoes of the inflicted pain.

And that girl Jiaying, I sensed emotions attached to her. Strong ones. But they were too vague to make out. I shook my head. Fumiko had asked that I keep her secrets, so I best not even think about it. I had been warned of the intimacy of the memory, but the reality was more than I had expected. I was seeing her closer than I’d seen any person. Even Zofie. It made me uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but wonder what it must be doing to Fumiko. I sighed. She was indeed giving me a very precious gift. I had to make sure I used it wisely.

I looked over to Zofie. Her eyes were open, but she just lay there, unmoving. For some reason, I felt guilty. Like I had been unfaithful. Something I would never do. Yet Fumiko’s memory haunted me. And I could never tell Zofie about it. Wasn’t that a form of cheating?

I frowned. But I had to do it to protect her. It was the only way. I just hoped it was enough. We still had a long way to go, and Lilith was not going to leave us alone.

Spraggel entered without even knocking. “Good morning.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I just saw Fumiko, and she was a bit on the grumpy side. Did you do something to her?”

“They had sex!” yelled Cabrina.

Spraggel shot me a knowing look. “Really.”

I decided right then that Cabrina might not live through the day. I swear. That girl was starting to sound like Abe.

After a quick breakfast, we set out for Oddfrid Vandobarre’s estate. The carriage we finally hired was a rickety affair with a roughly patched hole in one side and a broken step. It also only held four, so Spraggel volunteered to sit with the driver.

We had more trouble than expected hiring a ride. For one, our destination was far outside of town, surrounded by farms and forest. Quite isolated. The driver would take most of the day getting there and back.

Plus, Oddfrid had a bit of a reputation—several turned us down flat. They said the man was insane. From my standpoint, that just meant he would get along well with our group.

Under Zofie’s grandfather, Oddfrid had kept the kingdom supplied with long-range portals, and according to Spraggel, was quite powerful in his day. Some said one of the best. Rumors had it that the past king had begged him to save the villagers in the path of a forest fire. He only had minutes to do it, so he opened not one portal, but two, each leading to different locations. He held it until all the villagers were able to escape. No one had been able to do that since.

But now Oddfrid was quite advanced in age and long since retired. However, his leaving the royal service had been abrupt and clouded with rumors of strange circumstances. Some said he’d suddenly lost his powers and had been forced into it. But others spoke of trying to open a portal too far and killing someone. Exactly what constituted too far was a bit of a mystery.

It was late morning when our driver stopped at a branching of the road, saying he was as close to Oddfrid’s estate as he intended to go. He pointed up an overgrown path saying the house was just a short walk away. I eyed the indicated route. Had it not been winter, we might not have been able to follow it.

We walked up the path and discovered it led to a large house hidden from the road by tall unkempt pines and flanked by two massive oak trees. In its earlier years, the house would have been quite magnificent. But now it was showing its age. The faded paint was cracked and peeling, with dead vines having taken over the left side. On the roof lay a heavy branch split from one of the oaks, which looked to have knocked off the top of the chimney.

We paused at a gate in front of the house. It was open, hanging by only one rusty hinge, and allowing entrance to a walled yard, filled with generations of dead leaves courtesy of the massive oaks. I left the others at the gate and picked my way to a small stoop, which groaned and popped when I stepped on it. I could feel the board sag under my weight. The door, worn and cracked, had a dull brass knocker, which I tried to use, but it fell off.

I knocked. “Hello,” I called. “Is anyone home? We’re here to see Master Oddfrid Vandobarre. Princess Zophia Xernow requires his assistance. I am Coren Hart, her knight.”

There was no reply from inside. I began to wonder if anyone lived here anymore. Then I heard a squeak from above, followed by a gravelly voice. “Go away,” it said. “I have no use for royalty.”

I looked up and noticed a worn shutter on a window high above the door had opened. I took several steps back but didn’t see anyone inside.

I looked over my shoulder at Spraggel with a questioning look, but he just shrugged.

“Please, sir,” I called again. “It is a matter of life and death. The well-being of the kingdom is at stake.”

Croaking laughter drifted toward me. But it came from a different direction: my left and from around the side of the house. “You have no idea how many times I’ve heard that same line. I can’t count the times I saved the kingdom.” All the mirth drained from the voice. “I don’t do that anymore. I have nothing left to give. I just want to live out