A Curse So Dark and Lonely

by Brigid Kemmerer

  I study him, charmed by his story. My eyes flick over his broad shoulders, the sheathed weapons, the armor he has not yet removed. I try to imagine him in denim and flannel, throwing hay bales into a wagon.

  I completely and wholeheartedly fail.

  I lean against the stall door. “So underneath Scary Grey there’s a big softy who’s good with kids and animals?”

  His eyebrows lift just a hair. “Scary Grey?”

  “Oh, please. You know you’re scary.” The buckskin presses his face against my chest, so I gently wrap my arms around his muzzle. “So you joined the castle guard and got stuck with Rhen.”

  That earns me a rueful look, and it takes me a second to figure out why.

  I sigh. “Fine. You joined the castle guard and you earned the monumental privilege of guarding Rhen.”

  “The Royal Guard. And not at first. Guarding the royal family truly was an earned privilege. I spent many months in training.” His voice turns dry. “And then many months guarding closed doors.”

  “Not much use for knife throwing then, huh?”

  He gives the barest hint of a dark smile. “As I have mentioned, I would rather be useful.”

  “Can you show me? How to throw like that?”

  His smile vanishes. A line appears between his eyebrows. “My lady?”

  I glance at the inn. “I don’t want to go inside. I don’t want to talk to Rhen. I don’t want to leave. I just—” I make a frustrated noise. “I would rather do something useful, too.”

  He says nothing. His eyes are dark and inscrutable.

  I stare back at him and realization dawns. Something inside me shrivels a little bit. I think of how Jake would tell me to hide in the alley, always with a warning of how vulnerable I am. Grey has never treated me that way, and I don’t like the idea of him starting. “Do you think I can’t do it?”

  “I have no doubt you can do it. I think His Highness will not like it.”

  “Oh! Well then, posthaste or whatever you’d say here.”

  He doesn’t move.

  If I have to stand in these stables worrying about my mother and brother—to say nothing of the people in this inn—I’m going to rattle myself apart.

  “Please?” I clasp my hands in front of me, the way I used to do when I wanted Jake to walk me down the street for ice cream. “Pretty please, Scary Grey?” I tease.

  He sighs and lifts his eyes skyward—which is what Jake used to do, too, and how I know I’ve won.

  “As you wish,” he says.

  In my head, I expected to feel fierce and lethal.

  In reality, I can barely get a knife to stick in the ground.

  More than half my throws result in the knife bouncing away or skidding into the slush. The rest barely stick, and then tip over. I feel like an idiot.

  I wish I could blame it on the frozen ground. But when Grey demonstrated, his blades drove right through the melting snow and into the softening turf below.

  Sweat has set up camp between my shoulder blades, and I’m ready to lose the cloak despite the chill in the air. My right arm aches all the way to my shoulder. The blades are heavier than they looked. We’ve only been at this for twenty minutes, but I wasn’t ready for the physical exertion.

  I look over at Grey. “Are you sure I shouldn’t be throwing at a plank of wood or something?”

  He leans against the side of the stables, off to my left. “Would you prefer to watch the knives bounce from something else, my lady?”

  Ha-ha. I scowl and flex my wrist, rubbing the muscles and tendons. “I had no idea this would be so hard.”

  “Once you can stick a knife in the ground, you can stick it in a target.” He nods at the remaining knife in my hand. “Try again.”

  My fingers slide along the curved etching in the hilt, which is inlaid with silver, stamped with the same lion-and-rose crest that decorates everything else. For all their lethal power, the weapons are beautiful, with marks of true craftsmanship. So different from my life in DC, where everything seems disposable. Even the people.

  “You know what really sucks about this curse? Whoever put it in place screwed a lot of people who did nothing wrong.” I put my thumb against the blade and push just hard enough to feel the bite without the sting. “I didn’t spend the night with the wrong woman.”

  “Nor did I.”

  That makes me stop and look at him. “How did you get caught up in this?”

  I actually don’t expect him to answer, but he says, “I did my best to defend him. I failed.” A pause. “So perhaps you should not count me among those who did nothing wrong.”

  “Why do you defend him if he got you trapped by the curse?”

  “I swore my life to defend the crown. To be a part of something bigger than myself.”

  I wait for him to say something else, but when he doesn’t, I realize it really is that simple for him. “You have a lot more faith in him than I do.”

  “I have faith in you, too, my lady. Put the blade in the ground.”

  I grit my teeth and draw back my arm, thinking through everything he told me about grip and release and timing—and snap my arm forward to let the knife fly.

  It skids in the mud and flips over.

  I sigh.

  I move forward to fetch the knives from the ground, but Grey beats me to it. He wipes them on a rag we claimed from Evalyn. “Loosen your grip. Just let the knife go, and it will finish the movement for you.”

  “Will you show me again?”

  He nods. His knife drives straight into the ground. Effortless.

  Then he turns and hands me the other two.

  I take one. My fingers wrap around the hilt, and I draw back my arm.

  Grey catches my wrist. “Relax. Your hand is the guide. The blade is the weapon. Do you understand?”

  “Maybe?”

  He moves behind me, putting his hand over mine, shifting my fingers to match his. His left hand closes on my shoulder, holding me in place. “Soften your grip,” he says.

  I swallow. He’s not against my back, but he’s close enough that a few deep breaths would brush me against him. The entire length of my arm rests against his, from the buckled leather encircling his forearm to the hard muscle of his bicep.

  “Softer,” he says.

  I force my fingers to loosen until I’m worried I’m going to drop it.

  “Yes,” he says. “Now breathe.”

  I take a deep breath. My back brushes his armor.

  He lets go. Steps back. “Throw.”

  I throw. My arm feels faster somehow. The blade goes flying.

  Then it drives straight into the ground with an audible thock.

  I throw my arms up in victory and ignore the fact that my knife landed at least ten feet closer than the knife Grey used to demonstrate. “I did it!”

  He holds out the other blade. “Do it again.” But he looks pleased.

  I take the next one and try to re-create the same grip. “This is so weird. Yesterday I wanted to kill you.”

  “Indeed. That gives me hope.”

  “Why?”

  “If you have come to trust me, that means you may come to trust him.”

  I think of Rhen’s fingers brushing along my temple. Heat begins to crawl up my neck, against my will. “I don’t think so.”

  “Would you not have said the same of me?”

  Okay, so maybe he has a point.

  I draw my hand back again. This throw bounces off the ground, and I sigh. “I hope I don’t ever have to defend myself this way.”

  He reclaims the weapons and wipes them clean again. “If you need to defend yourself, do not throw your weapons away. Never arm your opponent.”

  “What would you have done if you’d missed that guy’s leg?”

  Grey gives me a look, then takes a knife, flips it in his hand, and throws hard. The other two follow in rapid succession. All three drive into the ground, each landing an inch apart. Thock. Thock. Thock.

  Whoa. I turn wide ey
es back to him. “Now I’m wondering why you didn’t impale all of them, Scary Grey.”

  He grins, probably the first real smile I’ve seen from him. The expression steals any tension from his eyes. “Someone had to drag him out, my lady.”

  This reminds me of yesterday morning in Arabella’s room, when he showed me how to hold the dagger properly. I wonder if this is what he was like before the curse. More lighthearted. Less burdened.

  As soon as I have the thought, I wonder what Rhen was like before the curse.

  Grey fetches the knives and wipes them clean.

  “Is this how you won your spot?” I ask. “Knife throwing?”

  “No one skill would win a man a spot in the Royal Guard. Weapons can be learned. Technique can be perfected. To serve the royal family, one must be willing to lay down his life—or her life—in favor of another. That is what must be proven.”

  “Do you think it’s worth it?”

  His eyebrows go up. “Worth it?”

  “Guarding Rhen. I know you swore an oath. Do you think he’s worth the sacrifice?”

  He hesitates. The easy smile is gone. He holds out the knives to me. “Time will tell.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  RHEN

  I stand at the window, just inside the sheer curtain, and watch. My cloak and armor sit abandoned on the table by the door, and the cool breeze bites at my skin. I ignore it. I enjoy it, in fact. After so many seasons of temperate warmth, cold air remains a novelty.

  The open window allows me to listen.

  I cannot hear every word. But I can hear enough.

  Guarding Rhen. Do you think he’s worth the sacrifice?

  Time will tell.

  “Prince Rhen.” Lilith’s voice, light and almost mocking, speaks from beside me. “What is happening outside that holds you so rapt?”

  I should not be surprised that she would follow me here, that she would choose this very moment, when my chance at success seems most bleak.

  I have little patience for her. As I said to Grey, this is our final season, and that invites boldness.

  Then again, speaking freely to Lilith will likely carry far more consequence than Grey speaking freely to me. I wish I had not removed my armor.

  I do not move from the window. “See for yourself.”

  She shifts to stand beside me. She smells elegant, something exotic and alluring. A scent meant to draw attention. I fell for it once.

  She presses her hands together. “A lesson in weaponry. How charming of Grey to patronize her.”

  My jaw is tight. She doesn’t need to taunt me. My own thoughts are doing it quite thoroughly. I wonder if Grey offered to teach Harper how to throw—or if she asked.

  My guard commander’s words from early this morning haunt me now. My lord, I did nothing. I sat down and asked.

  I want to slam the window closed.

  “Oh, look!” Lilith claps her hands, delighted. “Your girl is getting better. Commander Grey must be an excellent teacher.”

  This has not escaped my notice. Harper seems to have discovered the feel for it, because now she lands more than she misses. Grey seems pleased. Harper seems pleased.

  I am not pleased.

  “Oh! I have had the most wonderful idea, Your Highness.” Lilith feigns a gasp. “If you are unable to earn her love, perhaps you could find her a position in the Royal Guard. She lacks experience, but Commander Grey seems capable of educating her.” Lilith puts a finger to her mouth. “But I have forgotten. By the end of this season, there may no longer be a Royal Guard. Ah. Troubling.”

  “Do you have some purpose here, Lady Lilith?”

  “I am intrigued that you would waste your final season in this little inn, when you have an entire palace at your disposal.”

  I have an entire palace where I am forced to listen to the same music over and over again, to watch the same shadows crawl along the wall, to smell and taste the same foods.

  The inn may be small and simple, but right now I much prefer it to Ironrose.

  Lilith runs a finger along the windowsill. No dirt clings to her finger. “I must say the innkeeper does a marvelous job keeping the lodgings clean.”

  “I will pass on your comments, my lady.”

  “You are in such a sour mood.” She gives a disappointed sigh. “It is no wonder she seeks companionship with your guardsman.”

  “It is no wonder,” I agree.

  Lilith says nothing to that, and we stand in silence for a while.

  Harper truly has improved. She lands three in a row.

  “Your Highness,” Lilith says quietly, leaning toward me, her voice conspiratorial. “What do you intend to do about the terrible rumors of an invasion from the north?”

  My shoulders tense. “You know how rumors can be. It’s so difficult to separate them from fact.”

  “True, true.” She sighs. “Though I do believe it to be a fact that your soldiers stationed at the mountain pass were eviscerated months ago. It was really quite brutal to watch, especially in the summertime. You know what heat does to a dead body—though I must say the soldiers from Syhl Shallow loathe wasting meat of any kind, and made quick work of—”

  I round on her. “Are you behind this?”

  “Me?” She laughs. “No. Why would I need to be? When soldiers fall, their king should send reinforcements. When their king does not, who can blame a rival force for exploiting such weakness?”

  The true tragedy here is that she’s right. I suppose I should count myself lucky that we are not under attack from all sides.

  Then again, perhaps we are.

  “Do you truly hate me so much?” I ask her. “That you find entertainment in the destruction of my kingdom?”

  She looks up at me and any mockery slides off her face. “Prince Rhen. Is that what you think?” She reaches up and puts her hand against my face. “I wanted you to love me. We could have made a formidable pair.”

  My people once feared the actions my father would take against them. I cannot imagine submitting them to the frivolous violence Lilith seems to enjoy.

  “Surely you would be happier with one of your own kind.” I sigh wistfully. “A pity they’re all dead.”

  She snatches her hand away. “You seek to wound me.”

  If only I could. My voice is flat. “Forgive me.”

  “Your words are worthless, anyway. I am not the only one of my kind left.”

  I swing my head around to look at her.

  She laughs. “Do you think you could find them? That they would somehow free you from my curse?”

  Before that thought can take root in my mind, she sighs. “I have failed to locate them, so you would have no chance.” She flexes her hand in the air before her. “But I can feel the web of magic. It does not end with me.”

  Somewhere in Emberfall, another magesmith may lie in wait for his or her own chance at revenge on my family. They’ll have to get in line—if there’s anything left of me.

  “You disappoint me,” Lilith says. “I never thought you would let this curse drag on as long as you have.”

  I cannot argue. I disappoint myself.

  “I cannot wait to see how your monster manifests this season,” she says. “Perhaps I will keep you on a chain and put you on display for my enemies.”

  A sudden chill grips my spine. This is an outcome I have never considered.

  “Would you like that?” she says, moving closer again. “Mine for all eternity, Prince Rhen?”

  “No,” I say. “I would not.” I have very little sense of myself once the change overtakes me, but the thought of being at her mercy even then is nearly enough to crush me.

  She sighs. “You were such fun once. Honestly, visiting you feels like quite the chore lately.”

  “I would not be offended if you stopped.”

  She laughs lightly. The sound is like glass shards being ground underfoot. “Until later, Your Highness.” She gives me a low curtsy and disappears.

  I scowl and turn back
to the window. Harper is landing every throw now. Grey is a good teacher.

  That gives me an idea.

  My boots crunch through the slush as I cross the inn’s courtyard toward the stable, Lilith’s taunts echoing in my head.

  Grey notices me first and straightens. His expression gives away nothing—but then it never does. “My lord.”

  I glance at him. “Commander.”

  Harper turns, two knives remaining in her hand. Her eyes cut right into me. “I think I’m ready for a target, Grey.”

  Clearly, she is still in a pique.

  My temperament right now makes for a good match. “Do you believe I’d have cause to worry, my lady?”

  Her expression darkens. “Hold still. Let’s see.” Then she draws back a hand.

  Grey catches her wrist. He looks annoyed.

  Her eyes are locked on mine. The anger there is unmistakable, but it’s laced with hurt, which is much more telling.

  “Let her go.” I hold her gaze. “She will not throw a knife at me.”

  Grey does. Harper lowers her arm.

  I know when to call a bluff.

  She frowns and slides the knife hilts together in her hand. “Did you just come out here to insult me?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Oh, so you’re going to order Grey to do something inane so he stops talking to me. Got it.”

  Well, I am most certainly not going to do that now. I consider Grey’s comments about the card game and wonder if I have been looking at this moment the wrong way. “No, my lady. May I join you?”

  She falters, surprised. She recovers quickly, though, and extends the two knives in her hand. Some of the anger and hurt has leaked out of her demeanor. “Sure. Here.”

  Now I’m surprised. And pleased.

  But then she says, “My arm feels like it’s going to fall off. I’m going back inside. Is it okay if I take the room for a little bit?”

  There’s a part of me that wants to demand that she stay. That part of me feels small and jealous and I do not like it.