The Curse in the Gift (The Last Whisper of the Gods Book 2) Read Online Free

indoors became luxuries, not necessities. She acted like a woman with little coin which, despite her lofty title and birthright, reflected her circumstances. Nobility didn’t necessarily equate to wealth.
    She would never forget her first night spent out-of-doors. Unlike the romantic poems she had read as a child, it had been horrific and uncomfortable. Vagrum and Rexall had shared watch duties, meaning each got only four hours’ sleep, but Alicia’s portion had been less in both quality and quantity. Even under layers of blankets, she had been cold and damp with the chilliness and moisture seeping through the burlap covering placed beneath her on the ground. Although the spot she had chosen was swept free of snow, the cold had gotten into her bones. She had tossed and turned, unable to achieve even a modicum of comfort. It had snowed fitfully, just heavy enough to be a nuisance. Occasional flurries kissing the exposed skin of her face had conspired with the other conditions to keep slumber at bay until absolute exhaustion had overtaken her. When she had awakened after finally dozing for three restless hours, she had been sore and more tired than when she had lain down. Both Kara and Vagrum had accorded her sympathetic looks. Rexall, never given to treating Alicia with anything approaching kindness, had displayed an expression wavering between smugness and sadism.
    The second and third nights had been easier although on neither occasion had Alicia gotten more than four hours’ interrupted sleep. As they had ridden north that day with Alicia barely conscious in the saddle, Vagrum had assured her that, in time, she would get used to it. “There comes a time when you get more comfortable lying on dirt and rocks than a mattress. Once, I couldn’t get a good night’s sleep ’less it was on a hard piece of ground. When I first came to work for your father, I got my winks on the stable floor. That was more familiar than a barracks bed.” Alicia had tried her best not to look horrified when he confided that. She then remembered that when she had first met Sorial, his ‘bed’ had been in the stable at The Wayfarer’s Comfort.
    The most depressing consideration was that everything they were doing might be for naught. The point of their journey was to save Sorial - to reach him before he touched the portal and stop him from throwing away his life on a fool’s dream. But it was possible they were going to the wrong portal. When they had left Vantok, they had believed there to be only one remaining but a careful consideration of the evidence had given root to doubt. What if there was a second functioning portal and Sorial was bound for that one? The thought gnawed at Alicia; the more she dwelt on it, the more uncertain she was that there was meaning in this trek. But what could she do? Admit defeat and return to Vantok? And if she got there in time to hear that he had died at the portal in the North, she knew she’d never be able to live with her decision. As long as there was a chance, she had no choice but to continue even if it meant that her life ultimately might be forfeit. There were some things worth dying for.
    Eventually, exhaustion overcame Alicia’s aversion to sleep and she succumbed to its embrace. Her slumber was deep and she remained unvisited by nightmares, but when she awoke, she didn’t feel rested. The lumpy straw mattress not only smelled of mildew but was little more comfortable than the ground. Today would be another difficult day on horseback with every step her mount took jolting her bruised body. She was having a hard time reconciling the realities of travel with the glamour of the road commonplace in all the epic stories and legends.
    Vagrum clomped up the stairs, returning to the cramped room after having made an early morning assessment of the day’s weather. Alicia looked at the big man. He was a little pale but, other than that, there was no outward evidence of his lingering debilitation. With