Alara's Curse

by S. L. Perrine

  ABSOLUTE darkness was the worst kind of darkness. Especially that which cannot be escaped. Alara waited for the sun to shine on her face, letting the light brighten the world behind her closed eyes. It wasn’t quite the golden hue of the sun, but the russet color of warmth was better than the endless black.

  She felt herself smile as the heat warmed her. She was so cold and stiff from lying still. Pain consumed her. The cold became an acrimonious foe. They supposed she felt no pain. No cold, or warmth. Nothing could have been further from the truth. She felt everything. Only she was unable to react. Had she been able to, she may have said thank you to the kind maid who tended to her. Or to the king’s guard who watched over her, day and night.

  The sun dipped down behind the balcony to her left. The double doors there was how she was able to enjoy the sun each day. She remembered picking the room as the nursery for that reason.

  A movement to her right meant the maid departed. At the foot of her bed would be her guard. She suspected he sat vigilantly in the sizeable plush chair through the night. The feet of the chair scraped against the stone. A sound she couldn’t make out came from the foot of the bed, but not so close. The chair had moved to her left.

  “No. Don’t block the doors,” she screamed the words, but no one could hear her.

  The chair moved closer to her head, meaning the sun’s rays would still cover her come morning. The rings ran against the metal bar, pulling the drapes closed for the evening.

  Winter. The cold was because it was still winter. Metal scraped against stone as the fireplace was emptied of its contents, cleaned and loaded with fresh timber. Tomas would have helped cut the logs. They must have built a fire for the guard who stayed with her. They didn’t think she would need it. She heard them talking around her.

  “She’s sleeping. An endless dream life,” someone said.

  “You really think that? How do we know she’s not trapped in her own vacant mind?” the king asked. Tomas had thrown a vase across the room. A small splash of water hit her face. When she tried to go through the motions and wipe it away, she cried until she felt a cloth wipe the liquid— and essentially the tears— away.

  Heat filled the room, and her guard settled himself next to her. When he moved again, Alara wished her eyes would open. Then she would be able to see the world around her.

  The warmth and light reached her face. She felt it move from her toes to her shoulders. No, that wasn’t it at all. She thought carefully. It had been forever since somebody had done something so mundane for her. Her guard must have covered her with a blanket, she thought to herself.

  “There you go, my queen. Stay warm this night,” he said, before pacing the room.

  Alara had fallen asleep. Her last thought was of the cold that finally left her body. When she woke again, the blanket was replaced by the warmth of sunlight. Although the cover was no longer needed, that simple act was a kindness she would not forget. If— no, when— she woke from this curse, she would be sure to thank him.

  But when would that be? How long has it been already?

  She could not keep asking those questions. She wouldn’t. Every time her mind wandered, she felt it slip a little bit more into madness. She would not let the witch win. She would not lose herself to this.

  ANAPHIAS. A land shred apart by war. Once upon a time, Tomas’ great-grandfather, King Gerard Basile put an end to turmoil in the land. For many years, the kingdom prospered. The people thrived, and war became a thing of the past.

  When the hated spindle cursed Alara, the land began to fall. Since she was beloved by her people, they gathered daily around the castle, begging for her release for the last three years. However, her predicament was just the first attack from the unknown enemy of the kingdom.

  Sorceresses all over the land disappeared in a matter of days. Scouts arrived at the island of Ikrith, horrified by what they found.

  Massive trees branched out, encircling the entire island, each limb covered in thorns the size of a sword tip. The Fae of Idrisi tried to carry the sorcerer, Iren, from the imprisoned island. They flew well above the thorns, only to be stopped by a green glow encasing the island. From then, it was clear they could never leave.

  Rumors swept the kingdom. The Lord of Esix, Baron Geleon, had been turned into a beast of epic proportions. Forced to spend his days feasting on the remains of his subjects. For only human blood could sate him.

  Lady Layana of Omath had been trapped forever in a tower with no way in or out. The Lord Asil of Grotia, as well as a few others, had gone missing. Signs of a struggle were the only thing left of their memory.

  When Tomas was given the news of Vlora, he wept for a day. Alara’s home had been torn to the ground. Her parents, Lord and Lady Gallos, were slaughtered along with anyone left within the city. Those that fled ran straight to Tomas’ door. They told him of the gruesome scene he would find, but he didn’t believe them.

  When he arrived in Vlora, he realized the people had been wrong. It wasn’t an attack. It was an execution. Cleverly planned and strategically carried out. Men attacked from the borders and drew into the fair city. The townspeople were strewn across the marketplace. Bodies lay in pieces. Blood splattered the walls of the town.

  The palace walls were no different. They didn’t so much as spare a single servant. Crimson marred the cold stone, and as the light of day whispered into night, Tomas searched each room within those walls.

  He had his men remove the remains. Piling them in the center of the square. The smell made him gag, even through the rag he held over his mouth and nose. Still, he stood vigilant until the last of the fires went out.

  Tomas had the lord and lady wrapped in sheep’s skin and placed on a small boat. Surrounded by the wildflowers that grew within Vlora, they were pushed out to sea. On Tomas’ command, a blazing arrow sailed to the small vessel. A royal funeral pyre became the only light in the night that anyone saw for miles. He made sure he had done everything Alara would have for her parents according to their wishes.

  Though his kingdom was falling apart, he had to maintain his presence as the king. His duty to his people kept him going forward.

  Over the course of a month, Tomas met with princesses and ladies from across his kingdom and beyond. One, in particular, stood out to him. She had long raven hair, a slim waist, and could always be found in a dress of simple means.

  Nothing too extravagant. No lace or frills. No beads or pearls. Just a simple satin gown, and always a deep burgundy or red. Her brown eyes held nothing special about them, yet Tomas couldn’t help looking into them whenever she entered a room. She’d been at his court for just a few weeks, but he felt like he had seen her before. Maybe in a dream.

  Ren stepped behind him as he sipped on a glass of his favorite wine. Indulging was the only way the king could get through the dreadful dinners. He sat on a stage with others from his court and watched as those who lived within his walls presented themselves. He paid particular attention to a select few from the moment they walked through the door until their words began to slur, and their steps seemed to drag across the hardwood. Most of those men had floundered into the castle with daughters and nieces on display. Men of which he could tell their agendas by the time the ale took their senses.

  “Majesty? Has someone finally caught your eye?” Ren jabbed at the king, a movement nobody else could have witnessed.

  Tomas’ friendship with Ren was well known. They were like brothers. Still, a particular amount of decorum was warranted at such events.

  “I may have.” Tomas lifted his drink to his lips. Uncurling a finger from around the glass, he pointed out the dark-haired woman to his friend. She had begun a dance with Duke, Edward Ilael of Shagari. “She seems… okay.”

  The king tried not to sound too interested in the woman. He convinced himself that he was considering taking a new wife to save the life of his son. He could do his part to bring one of them back. Since they had not found a way to wake Alara, he would bring life back t
o her child. The more he observed the woman on the dance floor, the more he had to admit his body betrayed him. His mind, he thought, would no doubt soon follow suit.

  She moved with fluid grace. The hem of her skirt brushed against the floor as she slid in and out of the duke's arms.

  Tomas’ breath caught as Edward placed a large hand on the small of her back, his little finger dipping ever so subtly below her waist. He pulled her closer to him, so their bodies brushed against one another.

  Tomas snapped from his reverie when he heard the feet of his chair scrape against the floor in his haste. He noticed the eyes trained on him, which belonged to several of his men. Giving them a short nod, he continued to move from the pedestal, which he felt he’d been placed on for show, down to the dance floor.

  Pulling at his collar, Tomas shifted the heavy coat he selected for the night’s festivities. Emerald green, trimmed with silver piping and decoration. It displayed the crest of Anaphias; a great lion wearing a gilded crown. He moved the hilt of his sword, so his hand rested upon it as he walked around the dance floor. Heads bowed as he passed. Feet shuffled backward to make room.

  The girl pulled from the duke; her hand clasped in his as he spun her. Tomas positioned himself directly behind them and stopped to watch.

  Dark hair spun around her as she twirled.

  The king put his arms out just as she miss stepped and fell into them. Her breath caught in her throat, and color rose to her cheeks.

  Tomas gave her a slight smile as she gazed up at him. His blue eyes gleamed with wonder and need. Once more, her breath pitched, but embarrassment had nothing to do with it.

  The woman straightened herself and bowed, giving Tomas a generous view beneath her bodice. “Your Majesty, I apologize for my clumsiness,” she laughed at herself in spite of his attention.

  “Nonsense. You can’t be held responsible for your dance partner’s bad aim.” Tomas glanced at the crowd.

  Edward was more than annoyed at the interruption of the festivities. Surely, he knew he’d lost his advantage for the evening.

  The king lifted his hand to the band. “Please, resume your play,” he said, then leaned down to take the woman’s hand. She stood, allowing the king to direct her towards the door to the hall. “What is your name?”

  She considered him, shocked by his interest. Moving to a window along the corridor just outside the great room, she smoothed her skirt a bit more before answering him. “Talia Demers, Your Majesty.” She began to curtsy, but Tomas grabbed her by the elbow to keep her from lowering herself.

  “Please, call me Tomas.”

  Talia’s gaze moved down to his hand, and he released her.

  “Is that a command?” Rubbing her arm, she took a step back from him, making the king do the same. He turned to the window to view the star lights in the sky.

  “Sorry about that.” A nod to her arm made the girl drop her hands to her sides. “Everyone bows. Says ‘Your Majesty.’ Walks on tiptoes and whispers, thinking I can’t hear. I think I’ll go mad if one more person does that. You don’t want to be responsible for the king going mad, do you?” He winked an eye at her, and she let her shoulders droop just a little.

  “No, I don’t suppose I would… Tomas.” The way she said his name— deliberate— made him smirk. A small victory.

  Her smile was like sunshine in the night. Up close, her hair and lips matched silk. So much so, Tomas had to resist the urge to reach out and investigate for himself.

  Those were not the only things he resisted doing to this woman.

  Three years had gone by since he’d been with his wife. Tomas never imagined he would have this reaction to anyone other than Alara. Deep within, he chastised himself for his thoughts, then scowled.

  “Something the matter?” Talia lowered her eyes to her hands, which nervously twitched beneath the folds of her skirt. She pulled them free of the satin and smoothed them across the fabric.

  “Um…” He cleared his throat and straightened his stance. “No, not at all.” Tomas chanced a look at his guards, who stood between him and the door to the party. “Would you like to take a walk with me?” The brisk night filled his lungs.

  “I would be honored. But… don’t you have to oversee the party?”

  “I am the king. That means I get to duck out early.” Tomas offered Talia his arm and gestured down the empty hall. “It’s expected of me. That way, everyone in there can get drunk on wine and ale and make fools of themselves.” He let her wrap her arm around his to hold his forearm firmly with her slender hand. He covered it with his free hand and moved her toward the courtyard garden.

  “I suppose nobody wants to look the fool in front of a king,” she giggled, then stopped quickly, the smile never leaving her face. In fact, it spread to her eyes, and Tomas felt his insides knot up. His arm trembled as they walked the rows of flowers.

  The garden he chose had been grown in honor of his engagement to Alara. Tomas’ mother selected the colors and breeds and even picked the location of every bloom. Tomas felt his palms begin to sweat as they passed the white magnolias. Those were— are— Alara’s favorite flower.

  Talia noticed his stagger as they rounded the corner to the fountain. When he released her arm, she let him without protest.

  “I’m beginning to think this whole idea wasn’t thought out nearly enough.” He watched Talia, who caressed the petals as she passed them by. “The kingdom needs to be looked after. So, as the king, I have responsibilities.”

  She continued to move about the garden, taking in every fragrant flower. She turned her head to gaze in his direction. “And?”

  Tomas’ eyes fell to the ground and his feet. “And… there are expectations.”

  “Expectations of a king to further care for his people and secure a kingdom.” She turned to face him but didn’t move. “As it should be. Why would you share your burdens with me, Tomas?”

  “Well, I don’t really know. You seem like someone I can confide in. I’ve been watching you. All these parties. I can’t stand them. Alara used to let me slip away as soon as dinner was done.” He pulled his dress coat off and laid it on a nearby bench. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. A man who didn’t talk about the woman he cared for is one I’d have reservations about.” She remained still beside the gardenias. “I have to tell you; I haven’t exactly been honest with you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, not that you asked, but I haven’t actually told you. I’m here because my father heard you were looking to remarry. I have to admit; I was completely against the idea.”

  “Oh, really? I thought every maiden wanted to be a queen.”

  “Not every maiden. To be sidled with an arrogant ruler… well, it’s not what I’d consider a happily ever after.”

  Tomas didn’t speak. Instead, he let her go as she moved towards the back side of the fountain. The path circled around the stone cherub and back to the doors they’d come out of.

  The lights in the garden went out, and a million little lights twinkled in the trees. The shadow cast from the fountain kept Talia concealed. Its wings were spread wide, a small harp in its hand as it stood on one foot and spit water from its mouth.

  Tomas never cared for it, but his mother thought it precious. He couldn’t remember ever asking Alara what she thought of the garden. He supposed she enjoyed it. It was one of her favorite places in the palace. He felt close to her just being there. He looked up to the second floor and the balcony overhead. She was close by, he thought to himself.

  “I’ve heard stories of your generosity.” Talia’s words startled him back to reality. “Your heart. Having the one thing you love most taken from you, as your Alara was… Well, that’s something that could change a man.” As she moved back out from behind the statue, the light from the trees cast a golden glow in her eyes. The closer she got to him, the more the light retracted. “After just a few moments with you, I can tell that hasn’t happened. I know you’ll forever be in love with Ala
ra, as you should be. I also know you need to move on; produce heirs to ensure the kingdom reigns.”

  “So, is this a business pitch?” He laughed despite himself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Forgive me, I seem to be stumbling all over the place this evening.”

  “I could forgive you. Or, I could finish my pitch.” She giggled. The smile left behind drew to her eyes but withdrew when she spoke again. “I’m offering a partnership. You need a queen, if only a consort. You need heirs. I think we might find each other amiable. Maybe even have a friendship to build from.”

  “You have to understand something—” he began.

  “I’m not finished,” she held up a hand.

  The king hiked his pants at his thighs and took a seat on the bench next to his discarded jacket. He bent his knees, sitting on the edge of the bench with his feet under him. His hands rested on the tops of his thighs, his back straight as though pinned to the back of his throne.

  “Please, continue.” His eyes twinkled brighter than the lights in the trees.

  “I know you will never stop looking for a way to free her. I know you will never stop loving her. I also know I will more than likely be cast away, gently, if she were ever to wake.” She took two deliberate steps forward. “However, I’d still like the job, if you have no other contenders.”

  She folded her hands together in front of her burgundy gown. Her slender fingers held no rings. She wore no jewels around her throat or at her ears or wrists. Her hair hung to her waist as if she’d done it herself.

  It struck Tomas that she wore no extravagant gowns, not because she may not have cared for them, but because she had none like the others.

  The other women wore expensive silks, large rings, bracelets, and necklaces. Their braided hair swooped on top of their heads, with magnificent headdresses and tiaras. They already looked like royalty.

  Talia appeared tired. Worked. She had an air about her that caught his eye, but what was it? Maybe it was the breezy and light way she carried herself. Perhaps it was how she seemed to enjoy herself regardless of his presence. She wouldn’t wait for him to excuse himself from the room like all the rest. She felt comfortable enough to be herself even with him there.