Knight's Curse by Karen Duvall Page A

trusted.
    “Come on,” Aydin said, his smile encouraging. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

six
     
    HEAD HELD HIGH AND MUSCLES TENSE WITH discomfort, I followed Aydin as he moved deeper into the little coffee shop. I felt the stares coming at me from all directions. The music continued to play rock and roll, but the voices had died to a murmur.
    I slipped a filter from my ear and listened. A few words managed to punch through the hiss of the espresso machine. I heard “gifted human” and “mother was a Hatchet Knight” and “she wears the mark of the gargoyle.” Aydin knowing intimate details about me was bad enough, but I apparently had no secrets from these people, either.
    My eyes stung, but I refused to cry. My chest tightened with a choked-back sob and Aydin heard it because he leaned in to me, ice-jade eyes trained on my face. Our gazes locked, and I mentally dared him to pity me. He didn’t. His grin broadened as if he hadn’t just witnessed the near breakdown of a would-be knight in tarnished armor. Tarnished, hell. I had no armor, no shield, no crest but for the shameful brand on the back of my neck that marked me as a slave.
    But that didn’t mean I had to act like one.
    I tucked my ear filter back in place and lifted my chin, straightened my back, and bellied up to the coffee bar.
    A stocky little man with no neck and very long ears that had multiple piercings studied me from the other side of the counter. Bitter beer face came close to describing his expression, but the words that left his mouth didn’t match. “What’ll it be, sweetheart?” he asked, his deep voice at odds with his small stature.
    “Elmo, this is the woman I told you about. Her name is Chalice.” Aydin gave me a nod. “Chalice, meet Elmo, proprietor of this highly caffeinated establishment.”
    “Double espresso, please,” I said. “And nice to meet you.”
    “Into the hard stuff, are ya?” Elmo asked. “I’d have taken you for a latte kind of girl.”
    “Milk doesn’t agree with me,” I said, secretly wishing that it did. I loved the scent of steamed milk and coffee. I imagined that’s what heaven would smell like, if there were such a thing. “I prefer strong flavors.”
    “Because of your, you know.” Aydin tapped his nose. “Your nose filters. Can’t smell, can’t taste, right?”
    This full-disclosure crap was annoying. “That’s right. But if I take out the filters when I eat or drink—”
    “Other smells would overwhelm your sense of taste.” He looked pleased with himself, but when he saw my expression he quickly glanced away and cleared his throat. “Elmo, I’ll have—”
    “A caramel macchiato. Your usual. Got it.”
    Elmo dropped from sight. I assumed he’d been standing on something to reach the counter because only the top of his shiny, bald head showed.
    “Want to sit down?” Aydin asked me.
    I looked around the shop, seeing that most of the tables were occupied. It didn’t feel right. Coming here was a mistake. “I—um—I think maybe I should go.”
    “What? Why?”
    My gaze darted around the room again, then down to my feet. “I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong.”
    “Everyone here belongs here.” Aydin gestured at the only empty table. It was round with low stools, and on closer inspection I saw it was an old cable spool. The top had been sanded down and coated with varnish, but you could still see the scars of age and heavy use etched into the wood.
    “Not me,” I said. “Not with them.”
    His frown of disappointment made me flinch.
    What had I gotten myself into? Being in the same room with a supernatural species was too…awful. My skin felt like it crawled with bugs. “I must sound like a bigot to you, but that’s not it.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
    “Yes, I’m sure.” I felt my indignation rise through my pores, which probably turned my face red. “I bet they’re all perfectly nice people, but I’m…”
    “Better than they