Legacy of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  Jocelyn had reached them by this time, and she threw herself from the saddle before her horse had fully stopped. She had looked around the clearing in vain as she rode across it—there was no sign of Scanlon, and his absence made her uneasy.

  “Eamon!” she cried, seizing his arm and making him jump. “Eamon, stop!”

  He turned to her in astonishment. “Joss?” For a moment he stared blankly, then he swept her into a hug, delighted amazement on his face. “Joss, you’re here! You’re all right! How is it possible?”

  “Eamon, you have to stop this,” she said frantically, pulling away and gesturing at the mayhem all around them. A number of younger freedmen had been successfully corralled and were being held in a large cart. “You can’t let this happen. Call off the guards!”

  “You don’t understand, Jocelyn,” said Eamon seriously. “I’m doing what’s necessary to resolve this crisis. Everyone will thank us when it’s over, and they see how well this worked.”

  The sincerity in his face brought tears to her eyes. Scanlon had smothered the prince with his power. She could feel it lingering on him even now, in the Balenan’s absence. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who had learned how to control her magic’s potency.

  But the sound of steel on steel pulled her out of her grief. Those whose children were being gathered for branding had reached their limit with peaceful resistance. They had to end this, and fast.

  “Eamon, you’ve been deceived. You’re not acting of your own free will, you have to listen to me!”

  Eamon frowned at her. “Of course I am. This whole solution was my idea.”

  Jocelyn’s stomach twisted. “Eamon,” she said sharply. “It’s a travesty. You can’t think it’s a good idea to round up the freedmen. To brand their children!”

  “Listen to your sister, Eamon,” said Aunt Scarlett firmly.

  Eamon’s glance flicked to the older woman, annoyed.

  “I will die before I let you brand a single child,” said Uncle Jonan fiercely.

  He had his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes on Eamon, but Aunt Scarlett put a restraining hand on his arm, a warning light in her eye. Jocelyn drew a breath of relief. At least one of them was keeping her head enough to know that drawing steel on the crown prince was an action that couldn’t be taken back, no matter how out of line Eamon was.

  “No one needs to die,” Eamon snapped, his accusing gaze on the older man. “I thought you said the mark was a badge of honor now. Why should the freedmen object to their children wearing it as they do?”

  “You must see how different it is,” Aunt Scarlett reasoned, but Jocelyn turned away. She could see guards drawing their weapons everywhere, and it was clear Eamon wasn’t going to be convinced, not quickly enough to save lives.

  She cast her eyes around, spotting a large severed stump nearby. She darted up onto it, projecting her voice and her power as strongly as she could.

  “STOP!”

  For a moment all activity in the clearing ceased, and all eyes turned to her. She scanned the crowd even as she spoke, looking anxiously for the Balenan lord. But he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Everyone stop! The royal order is a mistake.”

  She looked around blindly, the drain of the power on her energy making her vision swim. Not that it mattered, because she barely used her eyesight as she instead tested the space with her extra sense, feeling the way her power was affecting the guards, changing their certainty of purpose. Men hesitated all around her, some of them starting to lower their weapons.

  “Jocelyn! What are you doing?!”

  She turned to look down at Eamon, standing just below her now, and she could barely stand the hurt and betrayal in his eyes.

  “I’m trying to prevent a catastrophe, Eamon,” she said pleadingly.

  “You don’t have all the facts,” Eamon said, shaking his head. “Don’t you think I know what I’m doing? Don’t you trust me?”

  He sounded genuinely hurt, and Jocelyn wanted to cry. “Of course I trust you, Eamon, but you’re trusting the wrong person. It’s you who doesn’t have all the facts!”

  “You’re out of line, Jocelyn,” said Eamon sternly. He turned to his waiting guards. “Proceed as instructed,” he shouted, and Jocelyn could feel the certainty, the confidence, issuing from his voice. It was so potent that even she felt a strange urge to pick up a weapon and help the guards. She shook it off, but she could see that all across the clearing, the guards’ confusion was disappearing, their expressions stabilizing as they turned back toward the resisting freedmen.

  “But avoid bloodshed,” Eamon reminded the guards in his clear, confident voice. “You see, Jocelyn,” he said, still sounding hurt. “I’m doing the right thing by our people.” His eyes hardened. “Unlike you.”

  He reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her down from the stump unceremoniously. She let out an involuntary yelp of pain, her body still battered from previous events. Kincaid, who had stationed himself in front of the stump, let out a growl and started forward threateningly. Eamon shot him a look of confusion, but otherwise ignored the movement.

  “How could you Jocelyn?” he hissed in an undertone. “How could you do such a thing?”

  “How could I—” Jocelyn gasped, stung by the accusation in his voice, but her brother cut her off, still speaking in a barely audible hiss.

  “You know how dangerous your power is. How could you unleash it like that on a crowd of people? Our own people? Since when are you so careless? Do you want to destroy Kyona?”

  Tears sprang to Jocelyn’s eyes, but she had no chance to respond. Kincaid appeared out of nowhere, a very ugly look on his face. It was clear he’d heard Eamon’s reprimand, and her heart wrenched at the thought that Eamon’s very uncharacteristic behavior was confirming all Kincaid’s prejudices against her brother. Eamon was still holding Jocelyn’s arm in a firm grip, and Kincaid grabbed Eamon’s arm himself, yanking him free from his sister.

  Eamon instantly turned, squaring up to the other young man aggressively. “Who do you think you are, Valorian? How dare you lay a hand on Kyona’s crown prince?!”

  “You think I’m impressed by your title?” sneered Kincaid.

  “Enough, both of you,” snapped Jocelyn, before things could escalate. Eamon’s hand was twitching in a way that told her he was one more insult away from drawing his own sword. “Kincaid, you’re not helping. Eamon, this is Prince Kincaid of Valoria. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Eamon looked between them, distracted for a moment. His glance fell on Henrik, who was standing nearby, looking unsure what to do. “Is that Prince Ormond, then?” he asked doubtfully.

  Jocelyn followed his gaze and shook her head. “No, that’s Kincaid’s friend, Lord Henrik.”

  Eamon was still looking confused, his gaze flicking back to Kincaid. “But isn’t he the wrong prince?”

  “No,” said Jocelyn, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at her lips in spite of everything. “He’s absolutely the right prince.” Her eyes slid past her brother to see Uncle Jonan, having apparently abandoned diplomacy, running at a group of guards who were herding half a dozen children toward the cart. This was no time for storytelling.

  “Eamon, you have to stop this!” she said urgently, even as Uncle Jonan fell on the men. To Jocelyn’s relief, he hadn’t drawn a weapon. Not that he needed one. He burst upon the group with ferocity, fists flying. In moments the guards were all unconscious on the ground, some of them having flown several feet before landing.

  Jocelyn’s eyes widened. She had heard Lucy talk about her father’s magic artifact, and even now Jocelyn could see the apparently unremarkable gray rock thudding against Uncle Jonan’s chest as he moved, suspended on a silver chain. But she had never seen it in action before. She was amazed at the familiar essence of dragon magic that surged out from the talisman as Uncle Jonan interposed himself between the children and more advancing guards. She didn’t think she would have noticed the magic before, but she was so practice
d at feeling for it now.

  As she watched, Uncle Jonan gestured urgently to the children, and they ran toward a small building nearby. Jocelyn looked around frantically. The thought of Lucy had brought her friend forcibly to mind, and she searched the clearing in vain for her.

  “Eamon,” she started, hoping a new angle would get through to him, “how can you do this to Lucy? Do you think she deserves to be rounded up, to be branded just because of who her parents are?”

  “Of course not!” Eamon looked shocked. “I would never suggest such a thing. Lucy isn’t affected by this. She’s not a freedman, and neither is Uncle Jonan, or Aunt Scarlett.”

  “Not affected?” Jocelyn repeated, futile tears again standing in her eyes. “Can’t you see this will break her heart?”

  For a moment Eamon looked uneasy, and Jocelyn pressed her advantage. “Eamon, you’re being manipulated. Lord Wrendal—”

  “Lord Randall is Kyona’s closest ally,” said Eamon, his expression hardening instantly. He seemed not to have noticed the difference in Jocelyn’s pronunciation of the name. The Balenan had evidently not revealed his identity to Eamon. Perhaps that was why he was staying out of sight—he must know his sister, or her husband, would recognize him instantly.

  Jocelyn’s heart seized as she remembered what he had said about her second family. She had gotten the sense that it was just as important to him to see them all killed as it was to cause Kyona to turn on itself. She would have to abandon Eamon for the time being. She had felt Scanlon’s power on him when he spoke in the nobleman’s defense, and she knew he wouldn’t be easily talked down on this point. She needed to warn the others while there was still time.

  Ignoring Eamon’s call for her to come back, she darted away through the mass of bodies, looking for Lucy, or any of her family. She spotted Aunt Scarlett through the melee, and made straight for her. Like many of the other residents of Raldon, she had her weapon in her hand. The fact that the clearing wasn’t a total bloodbath was thanks only to the strictness with which the guards were following Eamon’s command to avoid bloodshed. Jocelyn could only be grateful he retained enough of his normal mind to give such an order. She couldn’t imagine it was part of Scanlon’s instructions.

  Jocelyn had to admire how skillfully Aunt Scarlett fought, her blade flashing as she incapacitated guard after guard without inflicting lasting injury on any of them. It had been a long time since she lived her double life, secretly leading Nohl’s infamous slave resistance. But she had clearly kept her skills fresh in the intervening decades. The years seemed to fall away from her as she moved, and Jocelyn could almost see the older woman as a teenager, no older than she was herself.

  She realized with a jolt that many of those fighting alongside Aunt Scarlett had fought with her then, as well. She strongly suspected it was only loyalty to their leader that had so far kept them from killing any of the guards. Jocelyn’s heart wrenched. They had come here for peace and freedom, and now they were being treated like slaves once again.

  She looked behind her, expecting to see Kincaid still close on her heels, but he wasn’t there. After a moment she caught a glimpse of him through the crowd. He was still squaring up to Eamon, the two of them glaring at each other in a way that would have broken her heart if she had time for such things.

  “Aunt Scarlett!” she cried as she drew close, unthinkingly distracting the older woman from her fight. Aunt Scarlett looked up at an inopportune moment, and the guard she was fighting made the most of her lapse, seizing her wrist and wrenching the blade from her hand. Before Jocelyn could even cry out, he had his arms wrapped around the slender Balenan woman, holding her in a vise-like grip.

  Whether or not Aunt Scarlett could have extricated herself from the man’s meaty arms, Jocelyn would never know. Because before she even made the attempt, Uncle Jonan came barreling out of nowhere, a roar of rage on his lips at the sight of the guard restraining his wife. Before the man had fully turned toward the sound, Uncle Jonan had seized him and thrown him bodily across the clearing. He hit a nearby tree with a sickening crunch, and slid limply to the ground.

  The action was followed by a brief lull in their immediate surroundings. A number of guards were unconscious on the ground around them, but to Jocelyn’s relief, none of them seemed to be dead. Further afield, the clearing was still mayhem. Jocelyn’s throat tightened at the sight of the guards continuing to clash with Raldon’s residents. This wasn’t the fault of the guards. They were simply doing as their prince had instructed—and any who might have objected under normal circumstances were never going to do so under the influence of Eamon’s misapplied power.

  She turned back to Aunt Scarlett, who was assuring her husband impatiently that she was fine.

  “Aunt Scarlett,” Jocelyn started, thinking of her untimely interruption, “sorry for—”

  Aunt Scarlett waved her apology away with a hand. “I don’t know how you’re here, Joss, but I’m certainly glad to see you. And glad you at least don’t seem to be gripped by whatever madness has seized Eamon.”

  “It is a madness, of sorts,” said Jocelyn quickly, jumping on the opportunity. “He doesn’t realize it, but he’s being manipulated. He’s under the influence of a twisted version of dragon magic.”

  Both Uncle Jonan and Aunt Scarlett were watching her with creased brows, but neither protested. It was a testament both to their knowledge of Eamon as he normally was, and to their own unnatural experiences, that they didn’t dismiss her claim out of hand.

  “It’s a long story, and there’s no time to tell it now,” Jocelyn pushed on. “But you’re in danger, your family most of all.” She looked around. “Where’s Lucy?”

  Lucy’s parents exchanged uneasy looks.

  “She and Matheus were out riding when the guards arrived,” Aunt Scarlett said. “As far as I know, they still haven’t returned. They would have no idea what’s going on.”

  Jocelyn frowned, unsure whether to be relieved or anxious that Lucy and the oldest of her brothers were removed from the disastrous events at Raldon.

  “Who’s manipulating Eamon, Joss?” Uncle Jonan asked quickly. “Is it this Balenan nobleman we’ve been hearing about, the one who’s apparently made himself quite at home in Kynton while your parents have been away?”

  Aunt Scarlett was shaking her head. “I don’t think he can really be a nobleman, whoever he is. I know I’ve been away from Balenol for a long time, but apparently he’s at least as old as I am, so I would be sure to have come across him. I know every noble in the Balenan court. There’s no Randall in Nohl.”

  “You know him all right,” said Jocelyn grimly. “He’s modified his name, presumably to avoid being connected with you. It’s your brother.”

  “Scanlon?!” Aunt Scarlett said, over the top of Uncle Jonan’s sharp intake of breath. Her eyes were wide and horrified. “Surely he wouldn’t dare to come here!”

  “He has dared,” Jocelyn assured her. “I think there isn’t much he wouldn’t dare to do. He abducted me right out of the castle at Bryford and locked me in a cellar to try to stop me from intervening.” She looked between the two adults, her expression serious. “And I wasn’t speaking in metaphors when I said he’s using warped dragon magic to control people, Eamon included. He wants to make Kyona turn on itself, in punishment for what Balenol suffered when the slaves left. But it’s much more personal than that.”

  “This is about me,” Aunt Scarlett whispered. Her eyes flew to her husband’s, and Jocelyn was shaken by their expression. She’d never seen her adoptive aunt afraid before. “He’s going to try to kill us.” She clutched Uncle Jonan’s arm. “He’s going to try to kill our children, Jo. He thinks their very existence is an abomination—he basically told me so when we were in Balenol.”

  “He actually did tell me so,” Jocelyn said grimly. “He called them your spawn, and he said only by destroying all of you would he restore the honor of his house.”

  There was a fire in Uncle Jonan’s eyes that was just a
s deadly as dragon flame. “I will kill him with my bare hands before I let him lay a finger on any of our children,” he said, his voice vibrating with fury. He met his wife’s eyes. “Or on you.” Jocelyn barely repressed a shudder at his expression. She didn’t doubt either his sincerity or his capability. But it wasn’t enough to silence the fear still swirling through her.

  “That’s all very well,” she said shortly, “but that will be hard to achieve if we have no idea where he is. I was told he rode for Raldon with Eamon, but I can’t see any sign of him.”

  Aunt Scarlett cast her eyes around quickly, as if expecting her brother to spring from behind a boulder. Her gaze alighted on a slim freedman, several years younger than her, who was standing just behind her. He had clearly been listening to their conversation, and he looked almost as furious as Uncle Jonan.

  “Cody,” she said abruptly. “Can you check on Miles and Benjamin?”

  He nodded curtly. “I’m on it, Scar.” He hurried away toward the nearby building where Uncle Jonan had previously sent the group of children he rescued from Eamon’s guards.

  Aunt Scarlett followed him with her eyes for a moment, before looking up at her husband. “We need to find Lucy and Matheus,” she said with determination. She turned back to Jocelyn. “And we need to end this.”

  Jocelyn nodded. Her very bones felt weary at the thought of what she had to do, but she didn’t hesitate. “Leave Eamon to me.” They both nodded, starting to turn away, but she reached out and grabbed Aunt Scarlett’s arm. “And please believe me,” she said pleadingly, her eyes passing between them, “this isn’t Eamon. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  Even in the midst of her fear for her children, Aunt Scarlett had compassion in her eyes as she nodded. Uncle Jonan’s expression was steelier, and Jocelyn could see he wasn’t quite so ready to forgive his best friend’s son. But she had to believe she’d be able to make them understand once it was all over. Because there was no time to convince them now.

  She fought her way back to where she had left Eamon and Kincaid, but there was no sign of either of them. She twisted around frantically, trying to spot her brother through the crowd of clashing people. She caught sight of him on the other side of the space, arguing with one of Aunt Scarlett’s closest friends, a woman called Bonnie.