A Cursed Kiss (Myths of Airren Book 1)

by Jenny Hickman

  Leaning against the cold wall, I waited for someone to emerge from the pub.

  The door flew open, and my stomach tightened when the snouted man from the corner table stumbled out.

  “Did the barmaid send you?” I asked from the shadows.

  “Bleedin’ hell, girl,” the man rasped, clutching his chest, “yer gonna give a man a heart attack comin’ at ‘im like that.”

  “I apologize for startling you, but I’m looking for someone to help me.”

  His tiny black eyes swallowed the lamplight. “Help ye what?”

  The truth sprang forth, unbidden. “Get to Tearmann.”

  The man’s thin mouth flattened, and he wrestled with the end of his worn woollen overcoat. The width of his belly put the buttons under serious pressure. “Ye dinna have enough gold to get my arse to cross into that cursed territory.”

  Perhaps he wasn’t the one the woman had sent.

  “But . . .” The man’s tongue flicked over his lips as his beady eyes widened. “I have a friend named Tadhg who might be able to help.”

  The way he said “friend” made it sound like the two weren’t friends at all. Like he didn’t like this Tadhg fellow one bit.

  “Fer five pieces of silver, I’ll bring ye to ‘im.”

  It seemed like a lot for an introduction. But it would take a special type of mercenary to be willing to cross the border into the lawless territory ruled by mythical monsters.

  “All right.” I nodded. “Five coins it is.”

  “Come with me.” He stepped into an unlit alley between the pub and a blacksmith’s shop.

  Should I follow a strange man into a dark alley?

  Definitely not.

  Did I have a choice though?

  I could tell him to have this Tadhg fellow meet me here, in the murky light. Would it be any different? If a man wanted to attack me, he could. Lamplight or not. And it would be my fault for being on this side of the village at this ungodly hour.

  The witch’s dagger pressed against my spine from its hiding place beneath my cloak.

  If I had to use it, I would.

  “Are ye comin’ or not?” the man called from out of sight.

  I wrapped my fingers around the hilt and followed him into the gloom.

  The reek of rot and feces wafted from behind broken barrels. Glittering shards of glass crunched under the heels of my boots. We ended up on the back side of the building, close enough to the rushing river to feel its damp spray against my cheeks.

  The rear of the building was a mirror image of the pub at the front, only instead of being black, the door was green.

  The man cleared his throat from the doorway. “That’ll be six pieces of silver.”

  Six? That wasn’t right. “You mean five.”

  Thick eyebrows slammed down over pinpoint eyes as he nodded his chin toward the door. “I agreed to bring ye where yer man is fer five. It’s an additional coin to let ye inside.”

  This wasn’t the time or place for an argument I couldn’t win. Scowling, I reached into my purse and withdrew six coins. They disappeared into his coat pocket the moment they landed in his palm.

  He sneered and pushed the door aside.

  Tendrils of heat wrapped around my exposed hands, drawing me forward. Instead of smelling like turf and sweat, a sickly-sweet tang clung to the air.

  Keeping my breathing short and shallow, I made my way into a room half the size of the one in front—and silent as a shadow. Candles dripped wax in nooks notched into the walls. Green halos encircled the steady flames.

  As in the first pub, wooden stools with stubby legs surrounded the low tables. But the bar at the back shined with fresh lacquer, and the bottles on the shelves were green and black.

  The only two patrons were a white-haired man passed out on the table and a younger man with kohl-smudged eyes reading a book.

  The same men from the pub in front.

  How were they in both rooms at once?

  Of all the ridiculous notions . . . Being in two places at once was impossible. They must’ve taken a shortcut through one of the doors behind the bar.

  Paper rustled when the younger man turned the page.

  The white-haired man lifted his head, revealing milky-white eyes. “I hear yer lookin’ fer the Gancanagh,” the man, whom I assumed was Tadhg, said in a strangled whisper.

  I threw back my shoulders and straightened my spine. The more apparent my fear, the more likely he’d take advantage of me like the goon at the door. “That’s right.”

  Tadhg’s wispy white eyebrows rose, but his face remained slack. “Dare I ask what business a girl like ye has with a faerie famous fer seducing young maids?”

  Girl? I was no girl. I was a woman on a mission. If only I could lie about what that mission was.

  “I need to . . .” speak to him. Pain lanced through my skull like a bolt of lightning, burning the lie to ash. “I need to kill him.”

  Tadhg’s expression remained blank, but the young man looked up from his book.

  Never in my nineteen years had I seen anything as green as his piercing eyes. Even the island’s fields couldn’t compare. The black paint only made them more enchanting. The nerves in my stomach buzzed in warning.

  “Afraid I’m not interested in murder today,” Tadhg said in his pained voice.

  I tore my gaze from the young man, freed my purse, and dropped it onto the table with a thump. “I’ll pay you.”

  Bringing so much money to this side of the village had been risky. Still, Tadhg needed to know I was serious. That mine was an offer he couldn’t refuse. “Half now. Half when we arrive at his castle.”

  The man who had escorted me shifted from his post at the door.

  Sweet air smelling faintly of almonds tickled my nostrils. I covered my nose to keep the swell from consuming me. One of them possessed magic, I was sure of it. But which one?

  “I need more silver like this island needs more rain,” Tadhg muttered.

  The younger man’s gaze roved brazenly down my body, like he could see through the layers to what was hidden beneath.

  “Fine.” I yanked my cloak back into place. “If you won’t help, then I’ll find someone else.”

  I would visit every corner of this bloody island if I had to. All I needed was one person willing to help me get to the Gananagh’s castle. I would do the rest myself.

  Tadhg’s veiny hand shot out, clutching the purse. “What makes ye think ye can get close enough to kill him?”

  A fair question—and one I had to answer carefully, thanks to Fiadh. “I have something he wants.” Again, my gaze slipped to the unusual young man. The buzzing in my stomach spread to my chest.

  “Yer fair enough,” the old man said, smiling and revealing a black gap where his front teeth should’ve been, “but the Prince of Tearmann could have his pick of any woman.”

  My nails dug into my palms when I tightened my fists. I may have been a fool around men in the past, but not anymore. “Not me.”

  “Go on then. Tell us what it is.”

  Gold—

  Silver—

  Information—

  Bloody hell. My head felt like it was going to explode. “A ring.”

  The white-haired man’s forehead smacked against the table. His body went limp.

  “An emerald ring?” the younger man asked in a clear, melodic voice, his lilt caressing each word.

  My hand flew to the ring concealed against my stuttering heart. There was no way he could have seen it. “How did you know?”

  The book snapped shut, flew across the space, and landed on the bar. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

  My stomach dropped to my toes. “You’re Tadhg?”

  “I am.” The young man’s head tilted, sending dark hair falling across his forehead. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  Yes, it was a problem.

  A big problem.

  Not only did Tadhg possess magic, but the tips of his ears pee
king through his hair weren’t rounded but pointed.

  Tadhg wasn’t human.

  Tadhg was one of the monsters.

  I couldn’t trust him to bring me safely to the inn let alone across the country to kill one of his own.

  Tamping down my rising panic, I gestured toward the old man. “Why can’t he bring me?” He didn’t make me feel unsteady on my feet. He didn’t make my pulse hum or my breath catch.

  He wasn’t a monster.

  Chuckling softly, Tadhg kicked the old man’s foot with his boot. The man didn’t budge. “He doesn’t seem up to the task at present.”

  “Then I’ll ask someone else.” Anyone else.

  Watching me through narrowed eyes, Tadhg crossed his arms over his chest. “Suit yourself. Although, no mercenary can get through the Black Forest alive, let alone into Tearmann. And the Gancanagh’s castle?” He shook his head and laughed. “Not a hope.”

  The territory surrounding Tearmann had been gifted to the monsters after the great war. Even with their magic, they had been no match for the human armies with their ash and iron weapons. When they surrendered, the king had given them the small swath of land to appease their leaders and maintain peace.

  That land was cut off from the rest of the island by the Black Forest—a cursed place spoken about in hushed whispers. The forest was rumored to be ruled by the Phantom Queen—a being that survived by consuming human souls.

  “I suppose you know how to get me through the Black Forest,” I said, dread seeping into my stomach.

  Tadhg’s lips curled into a wicked smile, all teeth and empty promises. “I know how to get you through the Black Forest.”

  4

  The gamey smell of lamb stew made its way through the uneven floorboards in my rented room. From the mountain of black garments on the unmade bed, I found a bombazine dress with a high collar, long sleeves, and a tapered skirt.

  After sliding the witch’s dagger to the back of my belt, I tucked the chain holding the ring under my dress and shift.

  Using a cracked mirror on the windowsill, I tried to fix my hair the way my sister used to. Aveen could turn my dark, unruly waves into glossy curls with a few strokes and twists of a brush.

  All I managed to do was make it look like I’d been too long in the wind.

  If only I had appreciated everything Aveen had done for me. If only I had thanked her and told her how much she meant to me instead of taking her for granted. If only I had told her I loved her instead of spending our last few hours together wallowing in self-pity and drowning myself in champagne.

  I launched the thing at the wall. These regrets were as useless as that damned brush.

  My fingers caught in the tangled strands, and I gathered and twisted them into a tight knot at the top of my head. I jammed in pin after pin, hissing every time one of the infernal things scraped my scalp. The style made my face look too harsh and angular, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I was trying to impress anyone.

  The Dreadshire inn sat across gray cobblestones from a towering gray limestone cathedral whose spire pierced the persistent gray clouds.

  Gray. Gray. Gray.

  The color of my eyes.

  The color of Aveen’s skin when they’d taken her body away.

  The color of her tombstone.

  A patchwork of brilliant green fields waited in the distance.

  The color of the emeralds in the ring and the dagger.

  The color of the eyes that had haunted my dreams last night.

  The color of magic and monsters.

  I shook away the images threatening to overwhelm me and finished getting ready. After paying my tab, I offered the innkeeper a few extra coins to bring my trunk to my waiting carriage.

  Outside, I found a market of crude wooden stalls and hand carts. Most of the vendors had already packed up and left for the day, but the fishmonger still had two salmon that smelled like they had been too long in the heat, and a pig farmer was trying to rid himself of a squealing pink runt.

  Stepping over flattened streaks of manure, I made my way to Padraig as he limped toward me. The damp weather wreaked havoc on his arthritis and this summer had been particularly rainy.

  “No sign of yer man, milady?” Padraig’s words were a breathless wheeze from too many years smoking a pipe.

  I followed his gaze to the looming clocktower in the square. If we left now, we would be able to make it to Mántan by nightfall. In my own town, being out after dark wasn’t quite as dangerous as it used to be. But we weren’t in my town, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

  “He will be here soon.” Hopefully. The only thing worse than Tadhg showing up would be if he didn’t show up.

  Running a hand over the white hairs at the back of his neck, Padraig glanced around at the nearly abandoned market. “I’m not tellin’ ye yer business, but are ye sure ye know what yer doin’?”

  I hadn’t a clue. But if I thought about how out of my depth I was or what lay ahead, I would turn tail and run back to where I was safe and secure but drowning in memories of what should have been. “I’m following the instructions I was given.”

  That earned an incoherent mumble. Padraig had already tried deterring me from this “hair-brained plan.” When he realized it was impossible, he told me he wasn’t letting me go alone.

  A cool, cleansing mist descended on us, sending me deeper into my cloak.

  “Will ye wait inside the carriage at least?” Padraig opened the door. “Be no good if ye caught yer death.”

  A bit of rain was the least of my problems.

  “You needn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  Padraig closed the door and went to check the two gray geldings stamping their hooves at the front of the carriage. The stragglers in the market dispersed until it was only myself and the now-pigless pig farmer.

  A dark figure emerged from between a vacant butchery and a pink bakery with a wedding cake displayed in the window.

  The memory of how devilishly handsome Tadhg had been last night couldn’t compare to the reality of seeing him in the fading light, with a layer of stubble accentuating the strong line of his jaw and dark brown hair falling into his kohl-smeared eyes.

  Tadhg seemed unconcerned by the way the mist clung to his black overcoat, strolling across the cobblestones like he owned time itself.

  The strap on his leather satchel cut across his chest, and the chartreuse cravat spilling from his breast pocket seemed like an afterthought. Despite his mud-stained black breeches and dull black boots, he was the most attractive being I had ever seen—which irritated me more than the fact that he was late.

  The more handsome the man, the bigger the let-down.

  And I couldn’t afford for Tadhg to let me down.

  “What time do you call this?” I asked. He had told me he was busy this morning and couldn’t leave until four. It was almost five. “And where is your horse?” Hopefully, it was stabled nearby. We were already late enough.

  Tadhg brushed raindrops from his sleeve and adjusted his bag. The kohl around his eyes was beginning to drip down his cheeks. “I don’t have a horse,” he said in his lilting accent.

  If he didn’t have a horse, then how did he expect to get to Tearmann?

  As if he’d heard my question, he looked past me toward the waiting carriage.

  “You think I’m going to let you ride with me?” The very idea made my stomach tighten. The two of us . . . all but alone . . . for ten days of travel. He could kill me or curse me or do something far worse. Not. Happening.

  Tadhg’s dark eyebrows disappeared beneath his disheveled hair. “I can always stay here and let you find the Gancanagh on your own if you’d prefer.” His low, musical voice slid along my skin like an unwelcome caress, making me shudder with revulsion.

  I glanced at the carriage, wishing it were bigger or filled with other people or open-topped so I wouldn’t be trapped inside with a bloody creature. I’d known this journey would have its hardships but didn’t thin
k I’d have to face them from day one.

  I inhaled a deep, steadying breath. I could do this. A few days in discomfort was worth the reward of bringing back my sister. “I suppose there’s enough room for the both of us.”

  He bent at the waist in a mocking bow and his hair fell forward, uncovering his ears. “You’re too kind.”

  His sarcastic tone made me want to kick him in the shin. I was being kind. I could’ve told him to sit in the rain with Padraig.

  My faithful coachman watched us from his perch with a grimace on his weathered face. His poor bones must have been aching something fierce. If only I could let Tadhg drive the carriage and bring Padraig inside with me.

  A resigned sigh escaped me as I climbed inside and settled myself on the bench, trying to get a handle on my irritation.

  This was a minor setback. I had endured worse.

  Tadhg folded himself through the door, and his open overcoat brushed my knees. Although he was only a hand taller than me, he seemed to take up a good deal more room inside the carriage than out of it.

  Instead of sitting on the bench next to me, Tadhg sat sideways on my trunk, facing the door. After unhooking his satchel, he removed his overcoat, revealing a missing button in the center of his waistcoat. It smelled like he had rolled around in a field—and from the grass stains on his white shirt, it looked like it as well.

  “Where to, milady?” Padraig may have spoken to me, but he was scowling at Tadhg from the open door.

  “We need to go to Guaire,” Tadhg said, shoving his sleeves to his elbows, exposing muscular forearms far too tan for a person living on this island.

  If the sun decided to grace us with its presence, it was usually hidden by clouds an hour later. I could count the number of proper sunny days there had been this summer on one hand.

  Tadhg’s coloring reminded me of the sailors from Iodale who docked their ships in the port near my town.

  “Milady?” Padraig’s blue eyes darted to me.

  I offered my coachman a tight smile, then turned to Tadhg. How hard could it be to handle one irritable creature?

  In my most diplomatic voice, I said, “We need to head northwest.” Guaire was to the south.