Legacy of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  “Your Highness!” Again, their eyes flicked to the two armed young men behind her, still dressed in the livery of Valoria’s royal house.

  “I need to speak to my brother,” Jocelyn said without preamble.

  “He’s not here, Your Highness,” one of the guards said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked uneasily. “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know, Your Highness.”

  Jocelyn growled with frustration. “Summon my father’s steward,” she said curtly. The guards exchanged a look, clearly thrown by her unusual conduct in issuing commands, but one of them nodded to a nearby page, who ran off.

  Jocelyn strode into the entrance hall, the others behind her. As they crossed the wide space, four pages hurried past them, toward the door. They were dressed for travel and clutching parchments. Jocelyn frowned at them, her suspicions stirred.

  “Wait,” she said, grabbing the last one by the arm as he brushed past. He looked at her with wide, startled eyes, but when he took in her identity, he bobbed a quick bow. “What do you have there?” Jocelyn asked.

  “The royal edict, Your Highness,” he said nervously. “We’re to take the news to each major city.”

  “Let me see it,” she said, holding out an imperious hand. Her power leaked out slightly, and after only a moment of hesitation, the page handed it over.

  Her eyes widened in horror, and her breath seemed caught in her throat as she quickly scanned the page.

  “Stop the others,” she shot at Kincaid and Henrik. “Bring them back immediately. Use force if you have to.”

  They didn’t hesitate, both of them sprinting out of the entrance without a word. Jocelyn knew the risks she took in sending a prince and a knight of Valoria to forcefully stop the dissemination of a royal Kyonan edict, but the stakes were too high to worry about diplomacy.

  “This is outrageous,” she said to the page, her voice shaking. She knew he had no role in the writing of the edict, but she couldn’t keep the anger from her voice. She glanced down at the royal seal on the top of the parchment. “You’re telling me my father approved this order?”

  “No, Your Highness,” said the page nervously. “The king and queen are in Alezae. It was Prince Eamon who issued the edict.”

  Jocelyn closed her eyes, horror overwhelming her. Of course her father would leave Eamon in charge in his absence. Why would he hesitate to entrust his royal signet ring to his only son? But even knowing of Scanlon’s unnatural power, it was hard to accept Eamon could ever have been persuaded to approve such a travesty.

  Sounds of a scuffle in the doorway drew her attention, and she strode forward to intercede on her companions’ behalf. The guards were disputing their entry now they dragged unwilling royal pages behind them.

  “Let them through,” she said commandingly. “They’re acting on my instructions.”

  The guards looked uncertain, but they let Kincaid and Henrik past. Jocelyn saw with relief that between them they had retrieved all three of the other pages.

  “Is this all of you?” she asked the page whose parchment she still held. “Were there any others taking the edict throughout the kingdom?”

  “Just us four, Your Highness,” he said, his eyes still wide and confused. She breathed a sigh of relief and gratitude, the tension in her body loosening slightly. They had arrived not a moment too soon.

  “Look at this.” She thrust the parchment toward Kincaid, and he scanned it quickly, his eyes widening as he read. Henrik leaned forward to read over his shoulder.

  “They were going to round up the freedmen?” Kincaid said in a strange voice. “Put them in special camps? They were going to—”

  “Brand them,” Jocelyn finished, her voice hard. “All the second and third-generation freedmen were to be branded to identify them like their parents.”

  Kincaid looked up slowly, his eyes meeting Jocelyn’s, and she knew she didn’t need to explain to him what such an action would provoke across the kingdom. Scanlon had not exaggerated when he said he intended to start a civil war. And using Eamon to do it was the cruelest, cleverest stroke of all. There was no surer way to undermine the succession, to turn people against him.

  And her father would never be persuaded, no matter how trustworthy the Balenan nobleman’s illicit magic made him seem. She shuddered. They were one small step from a devastating fissure across the kingdom, half the people supporting her father and the other half his heir. She turned to the four pages, all watching her warily.

  “This edict is a mistake. It was not my brother’s intention, I guarantee it. There has been treasonous interference. You will not carry the news anywhere.” She held out her hand. “All of you, give me the parchments.”

  “But…” The first page exchanged nervous glances with the others. “Your Highness, it’s a royal edict, with the king’s seal. It’s our duty to deliver it as instructed.”

  Jocelyn barely restrained a grimace. He was right. She had no authority to revoke a royal edict, and the pages knew it as well as she did. She squared her shoulders with determination. Fortunately she had another source of authority at her disposal.

  “Is my father, or mother, or brother here?” She didn’t hesitate even for a moment as she threw her power out and over them.

  “No, Your Highness,” said the page, after again looking at his fellows uncertainly.

  “Do you wish to explain to them, on their return, why you refused to obey the only member of the royal family present? Or do you think you outrank me?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Of course not, Your Highness,” said one of the other pages, horrified.

  “I tell you this edict is a trick by my father’s enemies,” she said with authority. She could almost feel the way her power accompanied her words into the minds of her hearers, breaking down their preconceptions, molding their opinions to match her own. It was a heady, dangerous feeling—and a drain on her already depleted resources—but she made no attempt to draw back. “You show your loyalty to the crown, to both my father and my brother, by giving me those parchments and returning to your normal duties.”

  Not one of the pages even hesitated this time. They all handed her the edicts, bowed respectfully, and wandered back into the castle, their steps slightly unsteady.

  Jocelyn turned to the others, letting out a long breath of relief. Henrik was looking between the pages and the princess in astonishment, clearly surprised at their acquiescence. But Kincaid was looking straight at her, his expression fierce and his eyes blazing with such pride that a small flush rose to her cheeks.

  “Well done, Jocelyn,” he said quietly. Before she could respond, they were interrupted by a new arrival, as her father’s steward came hurrying across the entryway.

  “Princess Jocelyn,” he exclaimed. “We were not expecting you.” His eyes traveled from her disheveled dress to her companions. “I trust nothing is amiss in Valoria?”

  “Not in Valoria, no,” said Jocelyn grimly. “This is Prince Kincaid of Valoria, and Lord Henrik of the king’s royal guard.”

  The steward bowed to Kincaid, looking startled and confused, but Jocelyn gave him no opportunity to ask any questions.

  “I need to see my brother, immediately. The guards told me he isn’t here. Do you know where he went?”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” said the steward uneasily. “He and his Balenan guest rode for Raldon less than an hour ago, with two squadrons.”

  “What?!” Jocelyn said, color draining from her face. “Why did they take squadrons?”

  The steward swallowed nervously. “In case…in case there might be resistance, Your Highness. Raldon holds the largest, and most influential, gathering of the freedmen. It was decided it would be the best place to start the—”

  Jocelyn cut him off with a hand. “Decided by whom? Was the court consulted?”

  The steward nodded. “They have just now disbanded, Your Highness.”

  “Gather them again.”

  “The…the court, Your Highness
?”

  “Yes,” said Jocelyn in a hard voice. “I want them assembled immediately. I will address them.” She gave the man an appraising look. Clearly he had also been affected. “I wish you to attend also.”

  The steward hesitated another moment, but taking in the look in her eyes he scurried off to do as she bid. She strode for the council room, her steps impatient. They couldn’t afford to spend a moment longer here than necessary, not if they were going to prevent bloodshed. They had taken two squadrons in case there might be resistance? Of course there would be resistance. She couldn’t imagine a single former slave would allow their families to be branded without a fight.

  And unless she was much mistaken, both Uncle Jonan and Aunt Scarlett would die before they allowed their people to be rounded up and marked like livestock. Tears stung her eyes at the thought of what they would feel when they saw Eamon leading the group coming against them.

  It was all she could do to stay in place as the courtiers began to file into the room, their faces showing either curiosity or indignation, depending on the person. She wanted to race straight for Raldon, but all that would achieve—even if she was successful—would be to stop the immediate conflict. If she wanted to stop the further-reaching damage threatening Kyona, she needed to fight the battle here first.

  When everyone was assembled, she spoke. She had never addressed the court before, had rarely even spoken in front of most of them, but she pushed all nerves aside. Too much was at stake to think about herself.

  “Have I been correctly informed that this court is aware of a squadron of guards having ridden from this castle, intent on violence toward some of my father’s subjects?”

  “Your Highness.” Jocelyn had no difficulty recognizing the voice of Sir Sanctimonious, even before he rose to his feet. She narrowed her eyes at his indulgent tone. “This is hardly a matter for a princess. We are not accustomed to being—”

  “Enough.” Jocelyn cut him off mercilessly. “My parents and my brother are not at present in Kynton. I am the sole representative of the royal family, and as such it is my authority you will answer to.”

  Gone was the need to use subtle suggestions. Her power had never felt stronger, and she had never been more in control of it. She cast it effortlessly over her hearers, guiding their minds in the direction she chose. Confusion flickered in their eyes for only a moment before they began to nod. Whether or not her words were the truth, every person in the room believed them.

  “The attack proposed against the freedmen is an act of treason, perpetrated by the Balenan nobleman who has been visiting this castle.”

  “Lord Randall is a good man,” protested one of the nobles, and others nodded in agreement. “He is no enemy of our people. He wishes only to help Kyona successfully overcome the threat of the freedmen.”

  “The freedmen are not a threat,” said Jocelyn, keeping her temper with an effort. “That man has imposed upon you all.” She gestured to Kincaid. “This is His Royal Highness Prince Kincaid of Valoria. He can attest that the Balenan has been stirring up trouble in his kingdom, also. He has shown himself an enemy to both our kingdoms.”

  All eyes flicked to Kincaid, standing just behind Jocelyn with his arms crossed, and he nodded curtly. Everywhere brows were furrowed. Her power was having an effect, and people’s certainty was wavering, but they weren’t going to be so easily convinced on this point. Scanlon’s power was strong, too, and he had cast it well. Jocelyn abandoned the topic, deciding to focus her efforts in a different direction.

  “The squadrons that have ridden for Raldon are acting under false instructions. The edict to the rest of the kingdom has been revoked.” She drew a breath, conveniently failing to mention she’d been the one to revoke it. “My brother has discovered the imposition, and has ridden after the troops to prevent the intended atrocity,” she continued, with a total disregard for the truth.

  She looked slowly and deliberately around the group, meeting their eyes unflinchingly. Many looked confused, but she could sense they were persuadable, now the barrier of Scanlon’s power didn’t stand in the way of the admittedly drastic change she was trying to make to their opinions.

  “The freedmen are innocent in this conflict,” she said, speaking clearly and confidently. “The source of the tension that has plagued us for months past is a misunderstanding, one we can overcome with time and patience.”

  She paused, measuring their responses with that extra sense that allowed her to monitor her power. Some part way in the back of her mind wondered if she would have mixed emotions about what she was doing once it was all over. She had never wielded her power in quite this way, and she was alarmed by its strength.

  But she pushed such thoughts aside. This whole situation was as much her doing as Eamon’s. The kingdom had been given her as well as her twin in their royal family. If she had just been willing to use her power in a more subtle way earlier, she might have been able to change the course of the freedman crisis—to cut it off before it properly began.

  Once she would have been terrified at the very thought of what she was doing. But she realized now how right Kincaid had been that her power was not something to be afraid of. It was no more good or evil than his sword, and equally dependent on its wielder. Some part of her had always known that, and it wasn’t really her power she had been afraid of, had distrusted. It was herself.

  She shook off her doubts with a barely perceptible flick of her shoulders. No more.

  “My companions and I will ride after Prince Eamon to assist him. In our absence, you will respect the wishes of the royal family that no measures of any kind be proposed against the freedmen, and there will be no dissemination of the revoked edict.”

  Her power was resting so heavily on the group now, she wondered people weren’t suffocating from it. She could feel it continuing to flow out from her, and she felt slightly suffocated herself, her growing exhaustion making it hard to get enough breath to fill her lungs. She ignored the sensation, waiting until she was confident there was no sign of defiance in any eyes before she continued.

  “A message has been sent to the king and queen to recall them to Kynton in light of the attempted attack. I trust Eamon and I will return soon, and I expect my parents to arrive at any time. You will answer to them for your conduct in my absence.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply, just swept from the room, Kincaid and Henrik flanking her like bodyguards. That was more than enough diplomacy. It was time for action.

  Chapter Forty

  Although they completed it in record time, the ride to Raldon had never felt longer. Jocelyn’s heart was in her throat the whole way, trying not to think of all that could be happening at her second home. She even begrudged the minutes it had taken her to run to her own chambers and change her clothes. But as her horse galloped beneath her, she couldn’t deny it was a relief to finally be out of the ruined ballgown.

  They were nearing Raldon before she registered that Kincaid kept throwing concerned glances in her direction.

  “What is it?” she asked, her voice curt.

  “I’m concerned about you,” he said frankly. “You’re exhausted. That display with the court back there depleted you more than you want to admit.”

  “You’re one to talk,” said Jocelyn, raising her eyebrows.

  Kincaid frowned, turning his attention forward again for a moment. He had refused to acknowledge it, but from how heavy-eyed and irritable he’d been the next morning, she was pretty sure he’d spent their night at the inn in Kerr standing guard outside the door of her room instead of sleeping in his own. He must still be feeling the effects of losing a night’s sleep.

  “Don’t change the subject,” he said briskly, turning back to her. “You need to be careful. Last time you overdid it with your power, you were unconscious for a week, remember?”

  She met his eyes. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to save Kyona, Kincaid,” she said evenly.

  His eyes were troubled as they rested on
hers, reading her determination. He turned away, but not before she caught the determination in his own gaze. She sighed. She was going to do whatever she had to in order to keep her kingdom safe, and he was going to do whatever he had to in order to keep her safe. She just hoped this day didn’t end with the loss of anything either of them couldn’t live without.

  They heard the sounds of the chaos long before they reached the clearing, and when they finally burst through the trees, a scene of pandemonium unfolded before them.

  Guards were everywhere, and Jocelyn’s stomach turned at the sight of men dressed in the Kyonan royal livery that she had always associated with safety and strength rounding up children. Freedmen and other foresters alike were shouting, attempting to hold off the guards, many of them armed. The scene didn’t seem to have descended to bloodshed yet, but it was surely only a matter of time.

  She scanned the clearing frantically, looking for a familiar figure. All of a sudden she saw three, and her heart dropped into her stomach. She spurred her horse forward, dimly aware of Kincaid sticking close beside her.

  “Stand down, Eamon.” Uncle Jonan’s clear voice carried across the clearing. Even from the other side of it, Jocelyn could see the angry glint in the older man’s eyes.

  “Tell your people to stop resisting the guards!” Eamon’s voice was as familiar to Jocelyn as her own, and her heart twisted to hear it again after their separation. She could tell in an instant her twin wasn’t angry like Uncle Jonan was. He spoke earnestly, pleadingly. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  “What are you thinking, Eamon?” Aunt Scarlett was as angry as her husband, but there was also grief in her words. “How can you be supporting this? How could you do this to your own people?”

  “It’s for the best, Aunt Scarlett,” said Eamon quickly, and it was clear he believed it. “This will help everyone know where they stand. This will help resolve the conflict.”