Cursed be the Crown (Cruel Fortunes Book 1)

by RAE STAPLETON

  “Those are the best kind and anyway, what are you talking about? You’re always traveling with that stupid boyfriend of yours.”

  I frowned. “That’s different. Four-star hotels, yachts, and stuffy parties are not what I’d classify as an adventure.”

  Suddenly there was a huge thump at the window. I looked up, startled. “What was that?”

  Leslie tilted her head. “It’s a bird—a raven,” she said, eyeing it through the window.

  The bird I’d seen outside. It seemed eager to get in here.

  “Aren’t they a sign of death?” I was growing more frazzled.

  “No . . . I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “They were cursed for not returning to Noah’s ark…but…actually…they are associated with darkness.”

  I frowned, not that Leslie noticed; she’d stood and walked to a shelf and was now frantically searching through a book; on the prowl for a book to quote from, I was sure. Her nerdiness knew no bounds. If she wasn’t reading a book, she was usually writing about what she’d read in her journal. It was an endearing and yet predictable quality.

  “Here it is. Both witches and the Devil were said to take the shape of a raven.” Leslie picked up another book, this one black and gold, “The raven symbolizes the void—symbolic of the black hole which draws in all energy toward itself and releases it in new forms.”

  “That doesn’t sound terrifying at all.” I snorted. “No reason to fear the random void sucking energy that’s stalking the library. Anyway, what’s all this? You working on a thesis?” I asked, turning one of the books she had sprawled open on the table.

  “It’s a special project for one of the faculty. Oh, this actually might interest you given your need for adventure right now. She was asking about some lost temple in India. I can’t seem to find anything on it. The closest connection I can find is a temple in Tamil Nadu.”

  “Is it by chance, the Temple of Indra?”

  “You’ve heard of it?”

  I nodded. “Have I?! My parents mentioned it quite a bit. I think they planned to search for it. There’s an old folktale about a jewel and a treasure hunter.”

  “Really? All I could find was a link to some guy who invaded Delhi in 1738. He was after the emperor’s jewel, which he believed would help him take control of the empire.

  I shrugged my shoulders and glanced at a different stack of books to the right of the table. Did she also ask about 19th century politics?”

  “She’s looking for dates to do with Princess Sapphira Grimaldi. You got time to help? She mentioned the year, 1857.”

  “Sure,” I said, cracking open the book that she’d handed me: I read for about twenty minutes before I came across anything worth mentioning. “Bingo! Looks like 1857 is the year she got married to one, Conrad Alexander Ferdinand of Württemberg—quite the handle.”

  She jotted a note down. “Married? That’s weird. It really says she married him? Where’d you see that?”

  “This one, here.” I said, pushing it forward. “It’s written by a guard at Schloss Lichtenstein.”

  “Hmm.” She pushed an open book toward me with a black and white picture of a handsome dude. “Everything I’ve read suggests she died unwed and they suspected him of killing her. He looks like a strangler to me. What do you think? I suspect it was some sort of murder-suicide.”

  I gave her an exasperated look and sat back. “He died too?”

  Leslie nodded.

  “I don’t think he looks like a killer at all. He’s quite handsome with his twirly mustache. I bet they were madly in love.”

  Leslie snorted. “You’re so naïve. Things aren’t always what they seem.”

  “I guess. I wonder what the connection is between the princess and the temple?”

  She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “Beats me? But there were a lot of exciting things happening at the time: political espionage, secret societies, even witchcraft.

  “Witchcraft? Really in 1857?” I questioned.

  “Yeah, some villager who befriended the Princess right before her death.”

  “Apparently, some of the royal jewels disappeared, around the same time along with one of the advisors. Hey, maybe that’s how the Princess connects to the temple. You said it was known for jewels?”

  I nodded. The hairs on my neck prickled for some unknown reason, and I decided I no longer wanted to discuss. “Anyway, why aren’t the Halloween decorations up yet?”

  Leslie scoffed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re a little understaffed and overworked around here. Not all of us come and go as we please.”

  “Don’t guilt,” I protested. “I can’t help it that I wasn’t offered a job until now.”

  “I know. I know. So, are you all packed for your trip?” Leslie said, getting to her feet.

  “Mostly. I’m headed to Gigi’s for the night. Then home to finish packing and off to meet Nick. We’re taking the company jet,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Ooh la-la?” Leslie mocked and then wrapped her arms around me. “Just be careful, okay? Nick’s trouble.”

  “I know.” Nick was heir to one of Europe’s largest shipping fortunes, and being privileged in such a way had ruined him. “I’m going to confront him this time.”

  “About what? That girl who follows him around peeing on everything.”

  I nodded and made bunny ears with my fingers, “Betty hates to travel alone.”

  “Oh, that reminds me, the woman who requested this research asked me to stop by after work to drop off my notes. Will you come with me?”

  I hesitated. “I don’t know, Les. I need to get to Gigi’s.”

  “Come on. I’m done in half an hour. It won’t take long.”

  The beating of the raven returned but it was now coming from the other window.

  Leslie squeezed my hand. “I don’t want to go alone.”

  ***

  “Here we are. I knew it wasn’t far. Sophia, what are you doing?”

  I’d planted my feet planted firmly to the sidewalk, staring at the heavy, blue drapes flanking the large glass window.

  Leslie backtracked, returning to my side. “Come on. What are you waiting for? Let’s go inside.”

  “A psychic,” I whispered, examining the sign that had caught my attention. “The woman you’re doing research for is a psychic? I thought you said she was a faculty member.”

  “She’s a friend of a faculty member, actually. But what’s the big deal? She promised me a reading. That’s why I wanted you to come. You can have it. See what she has to say about Nick.”

  Leslie opened the door for me, and a little bell chimed. She led the way. It was the older woman in the aubergine colored dress who’d held the door earlier for me. She stood near a table striking a match. She lit the first of the tall candles before glancing up. As the last wick sparked to life, she gazed into my face.

  “I’ve been expecting you, Sophia.”

  “Me? I think you’re mistaken. It was Leslie—”

  “I’m never mistaken. I see a bad trip in your future—the symbol of a snake. I see the plotting of death in the monarchy. It looks to be a secret society fighting over the rule, or territories, of a kingdom. I asked for your friend’s help because I knew she’d bring you here.” She pulled a chair out and motioned for me to sit. I glared at Leslie but took a seat.

  The woman reached for my hand. “May I?”

  “O-kay,” I stuttered, looking nervously back at Leslie.

  Clasping my hands firmly, she shut her eyes and began to mumble.

  Leslie snorted.

  The woman looked up, hands still firmly hanging on to me. “You experience dreams that are connected to your past?” Her eyes pierced mine, and I wondered just how much she knew.

  I rolled my shoulders, more or less conceding.

  “You’ve dreamed of a book.”

  I nodded.

  “And you saw that book today.”

  How did she know this?

&n
bsp; “What?” Leslie’s voice interrupted.

  “Shhh!” The woman scolded Leslie. She released my hands and jumped to her feet in a manner that defied her old age.

  “Did it bear this design?” she asked, quickly sketching out a symbol.

  I stood to look, immediately recognizing it.

  “That’s it.”

  She clapped her hands and placed one on my shoulder. “I can help you then. You must tell me where.”

  As she touched me again, the room exploded into a whirling funnel.

  I stood inside it. I could hear a voice in my ear calling my name, or something like it. “Sapphira!”

  The wind blew around me—salt heavy in the air.

  I drew in a deep breath. The air around me swirled faster. A castle rose, and I saw a girl who looked like me with curly hair being chased down a castle hall.

  I shook my shoulders free, stepping away from the psychic.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “No, please wait. You had a vision. I can help you,” she said, coming after me, but Leslie stepped between us, and I bolted out the door.

  TWO

  I was still mulling the hallucination over when I pulled up to Gigi’s rustic lake house cabin—the place I’d called home since the age of sixteen. Dimly lit with the soft glow of fairy lights twined along the outside deck, I spotted her shadowy form in the window. No matter the age, I couldn’t help but revert back to my adolescent years when walking through that door.

  “Gigi, I’m home,” I closed the side door behind me. Wearing a plaid shirt that tied at the waist, her faded auburn hair pulled back, she glanced up from where she stood at the counter, measuring and adding ingredients to a large stainless-steel mixing bowl. A large smear of flour marked her right cheek.

  I barely had time to set down my overnight bag before she pulled me into her arms, hugging me fiercely.

  “Well, come on, girlie, get your stuff off and settle in.”

  I hung up my coat, and followed her into the kitchen. There was a hollowed-out pumpkin filled with mossy plants and daisy mums decorating the table and the aroma of spice and ground beef assaulted my senses. Home.

  “That meat smells awesome,” I admitted.

  “It should,” Gigi said as she stirred. “It’s been in the slow cooker all day. I’m making fudgy pumpkin brownies too.”

  “You haven’t made either in a while.”

  “Comfort food,” she said. “I thought we could both use some.” She picked up a wooden spoon from the counter. “What with you quitting school and heading halfway around the world and all.” She began beating the mixture with a tad more zeal than was necessary.

  “Gigi, I’ll only be gone for like two weeks.” I grabbed one of her old, yellow-and-strawberry printed aprons from the hook on the wall and tied it around my waist. “So, how can I help?”

  “There isn’t a whole heck of a lot left to do.” Pouring the chocolate pumpkin batter into the pan, Gigi attempted to blow the hair from her eyes. I reached out and tucked the defiant strand behind her ear.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s get this pan in the oven and we can test the chili.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Gigi opened the oven and deposited the brownie pan onto the middle rack while I poured us each a glass of iced tea.

  After that she scooped the chili into two bowls, grabbed a fresh loaf of homemade bread from the counter and found her seat at the table across from me.

  I noticed boxes scattered around the room.

  “You moving?” I asked, as I reached out to touch one.

  “I figured it was high time I organized all this junk. Before I kick the bucket, you know.”

  The comment brought unexpected emotions and I pushed the thought away.

  “Now where’s that rosewood box? There’s something I’ve been meaning to give you.”

  She wandered off but returned two minutes later with an excited shout. “Found it!”

  The box she set on the table was a beautiful piece of art, with ornate elephants carved on the sides. She ran her finger over the carvings. “I wanted to give this to you.” She popped the box open and we both gazed at the antique jewelry set within—an amulet necklace and ring.

  “What is it, Gigi?”

  She looked uncomfortable. “This is a family heirloom and my gift to you? It’s priceless so you need to promise to keep the box tucked away somewhere safe.”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “Opa gave it to my mother on her wedding day.”

  “Gigi, don’t cry. You’re going to make me cry,” I said, too late. Tears welled and spilled onto my cheeks.

  “I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”

  She let me go with one last squeeze and wiped the tears away with force.

  “I know you will.” Her eyes twinkled, and she stared off into space before returning my gaze. “Now, you need your beauty rest, so get going. I can see you’re tired and we’ll have the chili and brownies for lunch tomorrow.”

  I picked up the elephant box and kissed the top of her head before walking up the stairs.

  “Don’t stay up too late, okay?” I teased.

  “Yes, granddaughter, I promise!” she said, in a mocking tone.

  I dropped my bags in my bedroom which was located at the end of the hall and went to the large windows. The land outside came to a point in the bay, so I was surrounded by dark inky water from every angle. It was a serene view to fall asleep to, but I needed to close the drapes or risk being blinded when the sun came up. I stood for a moment, staring out at that water, before finally pulling the curtains together and falling into bed. I closed my eyes ready for a peaceful slumber instead I jerked awake in a cold sweat.

  Stepping out of my darkened bedroom and wandering passed the grandfather clock in the hall, I waited for my eyes to adjust before creeping down the lake house stairs. Through the oversized window in the living room, I could see a large moon hovering in the sky—just like the one in my dream except it had been red. I shivered just thinking how the evergreen trees and murky marsh had reflected eerily under its reddish glow, offering up the illusion that the marsh ran red with blood.

  A gust of wind rattled the glass, prompting me to tighten the belt on my grey velvet robe. The thought of being trapped in the deep, dark abyss that lurked below that sheen surface of red was a recurring nightmare of mine …an odd phobia for someone who’d practically grown up on the lake.

  The steps behind me creaked and I swung around to see a shadow at the top of the stairs.

  “Sophia, is the boogeyman after you?”

  My throat relaxed. Gigi, was in her long emerald nightgown, her copper curls pulled back under a bandana. She joined me by the window and gave my shoulder a comforting pat. How that woman managed to look pulled together even in the dead of night was a mystery to me.

  “Nightmare,” I said, forcing my legs to move and follow her into the open concept kitchen. She switched on the kettle and I sat on one of four stools at the island facing her as she tinkered about.

  “How about some chamomile?” she said, her eyes crinkling as she smiled, “or maybe you’d prefer milk with honey—”

  Warm milk with honey was her cure-all for everything. In the last two years ago, we’d switched to the more grown up beverage of tea. Truth be told, I liked strong black coffee better, but Gigi was not easily swayed.

  “There will be blood on the moon soon—the first of the tetrad,” she said, pulling two mugs down from the cupboard.

  “What’s a tetrad?”

  “It’s rare; it’s when four lunar eclipses happen within two years.”

  “So, they’ll be another eclipse this year?”

  “Yep. It’s been prophesized as something supernatural.”

  I cleared my throat. The thought made me uncomfortable, although I didn’t know why. Gigi opened the fridge behind her and pulled out the milk, “It’s all just hocus pocus of course.”

  “Of course,” I
agreed, doing my best to sound confident like her.

  “So, what was the bad dream about? Losing your parents?” Gigi asked, softening her tone.

  I shook my head. “Murder.”

  Gigi shot me a nervous look and poured the tea. “Your cousin Emma’s murder? You haven’t mentioned that in years? I thought you’d forgotten.”

  I turned back to face the darkness of the lake beyond the window, unsure of what she was talking about. The moon was receding now and thankfully taking with it the details of the nightmare. Gigi stood there, waiting for my response.

  My throat tightened even before I spoke the words. “No, I dreamed I was murdered.”

  THREE

  L ight streamed through the terrace doors of our luxurious, belle époque villa in the heart of Cannes, the sunlight glinting playfully off the sapphires in my hand. Suddenly, the hairs stood on the back of my neck. I’d always had a pretty good sense of intuition. My grandmother teased me that I was part Fae. Whatever the reason, my gut was screaming.

  “Don’t move a muscle or I will snap zat pretty little neck of yours!”

  I swallowed, remaining still but glancing at the hooded figure out the corner of my eye, the hand on my great-grandmother’s sapphire reflexively tightening.

  “Pass me ze amulet and you won’t get hurt.”

  “No, please.” I begged. “These are costume only. Let me get you cash instead.”

  I reached down from my seated position, under the make-up table for my purse, shaking and scolding myself the entire time. What had I been thinking, bringing along my most prized possession? Hadn’t Nick warned me about the crimewave hitting the southern part of France. Speaking of which, where was he? I could use a little help.

  “I said, don’t move!” The voice was right behind me now. Low, whispered and menacing as hell.

  I froze awkwardly in place, still somewhat bent forward.

  His fingers caressed my shoulder first. Snaking their way down to my lacey black bra, squeezing and kneading.

  I glanced down, remembering with increased panic that I hadn’t dressed. Without thinking it through, I pushed his gloved hand away and sat upright prepared to flee and immediately caught his gaze in the mirror. He peeled the panty hose from his head and howled with laughter.