Legacy of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  “Unfortunately, I think we do.”

  The silence was so long that this time Kincaid broke it.

  “Jocelyn? Are you all right?”

  Jocelyn cleared her throat before answering, but her voice still came out as a squeak. “I’ll be honest, I’m not wild about the idea.”

  “I know,” said Kincaid, his voice again apologetic. “It’s not ideal. But,” his tone brightened, “at least we have the food with us.”

  Jocelyn didn’t answer immediately. Her breathing was speeding up without her permission, a feeling of claustrophobia surging over her.

  “But—but how will we even know when it’s morning? What if we can’t find the opening, even tomorrow? What if not enough sunlight comes through to show it up? What if we’re stuck in here forever?” Her voice was getting faster and faster as panic rose inside her.

  “We won’t be,” said Kincaid, his voice smooth and confident.

  Not for the first time, Jocelyn felt a wave of relief wash over her at how little the Valorian seemed to be affected by her words. Most people would have been thrown into utter chaos by her barely controlled speech, and then they really would be in trouble. Jocelyn heard a strange shuffling sound, and jumped in spite of herself.

  “What was that?”

  “It’s me.” Kincaid’s questing hand brushed against her shoulder, and she realized he had been moving toward her by guess. His hand slid down to her elbow, and he gripped it bracingly.

  “We’re going to be fine, Joss. We’ll camp here for the night, then in the morning we’ll find our way back out through the opening. We’ll be fine. I promise.”

  Jocelyn let out a shuddering exhale, attempting to release her tension. “But you make promises so lightly,” she said, in a weak attempt at humor.

  Kincaid’s familiar chuckle wafted through the darkness. “Not this time.”

  “Do we just…stop right here?”

  “As good a place as any,” said Kincaid cheerfully. “The ground is pretty flat.” He let go of her elbow, and she could feel rather than hear him crouching down to feel the space beneath their feet. “Yep, it’s quite clear here.”

  Jocelyn lowered herself reluctantly to the floor. She went to arrange her skirts modestly, then realized no one could see her. “Well, that’s one benefit of suffocating darkness, I suppose,” she muttered, as she indulged in the rare comfort of sitting cross-legged.

  “What was that?” Kincaid asked curiously.

  “Nothing,” said Jocelyn quickly. “I’m starving, should we eat?”

  “Sure,” said Kincaid easily, and Jocelyn heard the sounds of him pulling the food from his pack. She wasn’t sure if he was genuinely as unconcerned by their plight as he sounded, or if he was putting on a bold front to help ease her anxiety. Either way, she was grateful.

  It was the strangest meal she had ever eaten. There was nothing unusual about the food, of course, but eating in total darkness was unnerving. As nice as it was not to be self-conscious about whether she was eating in a ladylike manner, that luxury wasn’t worth not knowing with certainty what she was putting in her mouth until it got there.

  And she quickly discovered that vision wasn’t necessary in order to be self-conscious, anyway. The food was in Kincaid’s pack, meaning he had to hand it to her item by item. And because of the absolute darkness, it was necessary for their hands to make contact every time in order for him to be sure she was receiving the food. The touch, which might have been unremarkable enough in daylight, or even under the light of the moon, assumed an undeniable intimacy in the total blackness.

  When Kincaid took Jocelyn’s hand in one of his, turning it so he could place a hunk of bread in her upturned palm, the spark that jumped between them felt so tangible Jocelyn was half surprised it didn’t light the blackness. She was sure Kincaid felt it, too. The cheerful Valorian was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meal.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if there was something unnatural about the darkness of the cave, because even by the time they finished eating, her eyes hadn’t adjusted at all. She wondered if the moon was bright back out where Elddreki was—hopefully—waiting for them.

  “It’s probably still early.” Kincaid’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. They had been sitting in silence for several minutes. “But there’s not a lot of entertainment available in a pitch black cave.” He gave a small chuckle. “I suppose I could spin you a yarn, if you like.”

  Jocelyn laughed herself, the sound slightly uneasy. “It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly. “It might be early, but I’m tired enough to sleep for a week. It’s been a big day.” Her voice turned rueful. “I guess I should have listened when you suggested waiting until tomorrow to explore in here.”

  “I don’t know,” said Kincaid lightly. “This is certainly a memorable experience.”

  Jocelyn said nothing, unable to disagree with that.

  “I’m afraid there isn’t going to be anywhere very comfortable to sleep in here,” said Kincaid, sounding apologetic.

  Jocelyn smiled. “You sound like a very considerate host, Kincaid, but it’s not exactly your cave, is it?”

  She could hear his smile in his words. “Not exactly, but I’m the Valorian here. I’m supposed to be getting you to admit this kingdom is wonderful, remember?”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” muttered Jocelyn. There was silence for a moment. “Did I offend you?” she asked tentatively.

  Kincaid sighed. “No, I’m not offended. I’m reasonable enough to acknowledge you have good reason not to have a very high opinion of Valoria. Yet.” He added the last word in a firm tone.

  Jocelyn didn’t reply. She didn’t want to say as much to Kincaid, but when she had spoken, her thoughts had not been on her own unsavory experiences in the kingdom, but on Princess Sarai’s fate in marrying a stranger. And through that marriage losing her identity as a princess of Kyona to become a princess of Valoria. A fate Jocelyn seemed all too likely to share.

  “Well, I’m getting quite used to sleeping on hard, uncomfortable ground,” she said eventually, speaking lightly. “So I daresay I’ll struggle through.”

  “You are a remarkable princess,” said Kincaid, matching her tone. “I doubt one in a hundred would take our various adventures as much in their stride as you have.” Jocelyn could hear him shuffling around in the darkness, but she had no idea what he was doing. “You said the first night I joined you, before Elddreki came back, that it was because of your mother that you weren’t—how did you put it? ‘An ordinary princess’. What did you mean by that? I assume you weren’t talking about the power in your words?”

  “No, I wasn’t,” acknowledged Jocelyn. “I was talking about the reason I carry a dagger on my person at all times.”

  “At all times?” Kincaid asked, clearly surprised. “I thought it was just because you were traveling.” He paused. “And even that was unusual. And impressive.”

  “I wear it even at home,” Jocelyn said. “And I’ve been trained in how to use it. Not extensively, but the basics.” She grimaced into the darkness. “I’m afraid I’m not very proficient. Some people—like Eamon—just have a natural aptitude for these things. I’m not one of those people.” She shrugged a shoulder that no one could see. “But still, I can use a dagger, and a sword, and a bow well enough to not kill anyone by accident.”

  “Is that a normal part of a princess’s education in Kyona?” asked Kincaid, sounding fascinated.

  “It is now,” chuckled Jocelyn. There was an expectant silence, and she sighed. “You said you grew up on stories of my father’s exploits, so I guess you know that we’re not…you know…real royals.”

  “What?” Kincaid’s frown was evident in his tone. “Of course you’re real royals.”

  “Well, I suppose we are now. But my father, as royal as his blood might be, was raised in a small village on the coast, by a boat builder and his wife. He wasn’t trained in court life until after he became king.” She sighed again. “And
it didn’t make his road easy when he first assumed the throne. He’s well-respected now, but he’s had to fight for it in a way most kings never would.”

  “Then the respect is surely all the more deserved,” said Kincaid reasonably.

  “Yes, it is,” Jocelyn agreed. “My father is an excellent king, and an even more excellent man. He just doesn’t always do things in the traditional royal way.”

  “I suspect that’s a good thing,” responded Kincaid, “if it means he allowed his daughter to be trained to defend herself. Surely a prince would always be well-trained in such an area. I don’t know why anyone thinks it’s a good thing for princesses to be more vulnerable.”

  Jocelyn chuckled. “Nevertheless, I can assure you that a lot of people in the Kyonan court did think it was a good idea for me to be more vulnerable. Or at least, they thought it was a bad idea—and an outrageous scandal—for me to be trained in swordsmanship.” Her voice turned dry. “I just wish I was more skilled at it, to prove them all wrong. But unfortunately, I never excelled.”

  For a moment she was distracted, brooding over the daydreams she used to entertain of silencing such critics as Sir Sanctimonious with her superior skills. It was so ironic, she thought for the hundredth time. Lucy’s mother had also insisted that her daughter learn to defend herself. And despite having the aptitude Jocelyn lacked, Lucy didn’t seem to enjoy training. She had been eager enough when they were younger, but in recent years, her parents practically had to force her to train. Still, she was a very competent fighter. Jocelyn smiled to herself. Pointless, really, since it was impossible to imagine sweet, kind-hearted Lucy raising a weapon against anyone.

  But she was straying from the point. She shook the thought off and continued.

  “My father supported it, but it was actually my mother’s idea. She always carries a weapon herself, ever since she was abducted, not long before my parents’ marriage. She was taken by Father’s enemies in an attempt to manipulate him. She wasn’t armed when the men came for her, and she hasn’t made the same mistake since. I don’t mean to suggest my father required any convincing, but it was Mother who insisted her daughter be taught to defend herself, as well as her son. I guess...” she hesitated. “I guess you’ve heard of my mother, too.”

  “Of course,” said Kincaid, sounding surprised. “Queen Elnora is almost as famous as King Calinnae.”

  “I can imagine,” muttered Jocelyn.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing,” Jocelyn said hastily.

  “No.” The frown was back in Kincaid’s voice as he pursued the point. It wasn’t the first time Jocelyn had experienced his unnerving determination to find the thought behind her words. “Not ‘nothing’. What did you mean?”

  Jocelyn sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, I think the world of my mother. But…if some people still mutter about my father not being raised royal, you can imagine how they feel about my mother.”

  “Oh,” said Kincaid in sudden understanding. “You mean because she was a commoner by blood as well as by upbringing?”

  “Not just a commoner,” said Jocelyn dryly. “She was—by her own description in private conversation—a street rat. She grew up in the slums of Alezae, at least until she joined a street gang.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard all that,” said Kincaid. “It’s an amazing story, isn’t it?” He paused. “My sister thinks it’s terribly romantic.” He chuckled darkly. “I think she imagines it would be a delightful adventure to grow up in a street gang.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t,” said Jocelyn bluntly. “And you can tell her to grow up. Fourteen is too old to be so foolish.” Her words were met by ringing silence, and even she winced as she realized how harsh she had been. “I’m sorry,” she amended quickly. “That was unkind. And unnecessary. But my mother has been very honest with Eamon and me in telling us about her childhood. And it was anything but romantic.”

  She let out a big breath. “Her lot was hard enough, barely escaping being sold into slavery in the South Lands. But my Aunt Constance, who was sold into slavery, has told us enough to know that hers was much worse.” Her voice dropped, and she could hear the pain in her words, their power reaching out and wrapping around the very stones of the cavern. “Kyona has some dark pages in its history.”

  “I know,” said Kincaid softly. “And what I said was foolish. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” said Jocelyn sharply. She suspected that a moment ago, Kincaid had known as well as she did that he wasn’t in the wrong, and her heart seized strangely at the fear that she had unintentionally influenced him with her unnatural words.

  She breathed in slowly, trying to tamp down her unreasonable reaction. “What have you heard about my mother?” she asked. “What do they call her?” She gave an unconvincing chuckle. “The Peasant Queen? Kyona’s Vagabond Royal?”

  “What?” Kincaid sounded startled. “Of course not. I’ve never heard anyone in Valoria speak disrespectfully of your mother.”

  Jocelyn’s skepticism must have been audible, because Kincaid pushed on.

  “It’s true. I told you, people think the story of her marriage to your father is very romantic. But the people here also have a very high respect for both your parents. I was only a baby at the time, of course, but before your father took the throne, Kyona was known as a dark place. Valorians didn’t like to go there, and the superstitious were even starting to talk of curses. People were genuinely afraid, even in our kingdom. It was a type of darkness that people feared would creep across the border and infect us too. Well, you must know all this. The previous king, the current king’s father, was on the point of marching on Kyona in war in an attempt to stop the disastrous trajectory of the false king’s rule.”

  “Yes,” Jocelyn acknowledged. “I do know that.”

  “But now,” Kincaid continued, his voice earnest, “Kyona is a prosperous and respected kingdom, at peace with itself and everyone else. No one hesitates to do trade with you, and people travel back and forth across the border with absolute freedom. Your father—both your parents—have turned the kingdom around. Kyona is the strongest kingdom in the North Lands.”

  “Is that really how Valorians see us?” Jocelyn asked in surprise.

  “Of course.”

  “That’s heartening,” she said. But she shook her head. “Not entirely accurate though, unfortunately.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I suppose we’re as prosperous as ever. But lately, we’re not completely at peace with ourselves.” Kincaid was again expectantly silent, and she sighed. “There’s trouble brewing. It has everyone on edge. You know about the history with Balenol, don’t you?”

  “How they took lots of Kyonans as slaves, going back generations, and how they were all freed and brought home after your father took the throne?”

  “That’s right,” said Jocelyn. “And they’ve been living prosperously back in Kyona ever since, on the whole. But lately someone’s been stirring up trouble against them. Well—” she hesitated, “that’s what I think, anyway. Someone must be behind it. It doesn’t feel right that the source of the sudden prejudice is so difficult to locate. But in any event, the conflict is escalating between the freedmen—that’s what we call them—and this new faction of people who resent them.”

  “That is strange, and…troubling,” said Kincaid thoughtfully.

  “What?” Jocelyn had the sense there was more behind Kincaid’s words.

  “Well, it’s just that…” Kincaid hesitated. “As I said, I’m familiar with the basic story of the freedmen. Everyone is. And it hasn’t generally been the subject of much interest in Valoria, since it doesn’t affect us very directly. But lately…”

  “Lately what?” asked Jocelyn sharply as he trailed off.

  “Lately there’s been a lot of talk about it. About them.”

  “What kind of talk?”

  “Well…” Kincaid sounded thoughtful again. “I guess you could say p
rejudice. People complaining about them, worrying that the rest of Kyona is going to realize they’re a burden, and when they find they’re not welcome, they’re going to come into Valoria and be a burden here.”

  “What?” demanded Jocelyn. “That makes no sense! Why would they come to Valoria? Most of them spent half their lives in captivity, dreaming of nothing but Kyona! Plus, they’re not a burden. They’re hardworking, normal citizens. Honestly, you wouldn’t know that they’re freedmen—there was nothing to distinguish them from anyone else, until this prejudice arose.” She paused. “Except for the marks on the first generation freedmen, I suppose.”

  “Marks?”

  “Their slave marks. The Balenans used to brand their slaves as soon as they were on the ships, then go over it with ink once they arrived in Balenol. I’ve seen the mark lots of times. It’s a bit of a badge of honor now. It’s two links of a chain, trailing up the arm.”

  “Oh.” Kincaid was silent for a moment. “The Balenans must have been horrible.”

  “Yes,” Jocelyn agreed. “Well, not all of them,” she amended, thinking of Aunt Scarlett, and by extension Lucy and the boys.

  Kincaid sighed, clearly lost in his own thoughts. “You’re not wrong that the prejudice makes no sense, in Valoria at least. I thought it was strange from the moment I started hearing it. I don’t know why people would become concerned all of a sudden about something that doesn’t affect us.”

  “It is strange,” Jocelyn agreed. “But it also proves my point, a little. You weren’t being entirely honest that everyone sees Kyona as strong.” She gave a sad laugh. “Why would they? Not with a half-breed royal family.”

  “Half-breed?” repeated Kincaid, and to Jocelyn’s surprise he sounded angry. “That’s a horrible way to speak of yourself, and I’d better not hear you doing it again in front of me, ever.”

  Jocelyn was silent, somehow feeling both chastened and stubborn. Kincaid seemed to sense she was not fully convinced.

  “Jocelyn,” he said, and his questing hand suddenly found one of hers, where it rested on the cavern’s floor. She sucked in an involuntary breath at the contact. “Kyona is strong, and everyone knows it. Your mother’s unusual background is not a liability. It’s a strength. Even the Valorian commoners have an illogical level of affection for her. She’s…a heroine. And your father is a legend personified. I mean,” he sounded exasperated, “Kyona’s royal house is known as the House of Dragonfriend!”