Alara's Curse

by S. L. Perrine

  “What is your title?” he finally asked, the diplomat in him coming to the surface.

  “I am a countess,” she said curtly.

  “And how did you acquire such a title?” he demanded of her.

  “I was a governess to a child left without parents. His brother hired me, so he didn’t have to care for the little one. I worked for him for three years. We…” She withdrew. Her shoulders slumped, and her breathing became ragged. Then she stood tall, her chest pushed forward; her stance proper. “We fell in love and married. Shortly after, there was an accident.”

  “He’s dead then?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you bettered your standings and seek a new marriage. To what end?”

  “What do you mean to what end? I seek security. Friendship. Love.”

  She became distraught. Tomas could see the flush in her cheeks and regretted only the tone of his words. A king couldn’t be too careful with his choice.

  He stood but didn’t move to her. “So, you understand loss.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. One she knew required no answer, but she did anyway.

  She stared him down. She would be bullied by no man, not even a king. “I know loss.”

  WHAT Talia suggested was nothing less than what Tomas, himself, wanted to ask her. She just took it from his hands and saved him from the task.

  For weeks, the palace was in an uproar. The king’s own advisors delighted that he had found a bride willing to accept the title of Queen Consort, for their true queen remained in a bed, trimmed in gold.

  Alara was happy for Tomas. He needed to marry. To ensure the kingdom’s future. She’d paid closer attention to him and others as they had entered her room during those weeks.

  Some said the king made a deal with a witch. Once the new queen was with child, the witch would give Tomas a potion to feed to Alara. It would link the lives of the unborn children together, thus ensuring the child she carried did not suffer her own fate.

  Tomas would raise their child. He would have a brother or sister to grow up with. She became content with knowing the child would visit her; talk to her once he could speak. She would get to know him if only a little bit. She was determined not to block anyone out anymore. If only she could have guessed what fate had in store.

  Alara had come to learn of her guard’s name in those weeks before the wedding. Cedric stood vigilant each evening. Others, she wagered, had been placed around her to protect her during the other hours of the day, her maid no longer being sufficient protection within her own home.

  A royal wedding brought so many visitors to the palace. Tomas only visited her room a few times during those weeks. Alara understood. How could he pretend to be happy for a new union while spending time with the wife who could not be his queen any longer?

  The wedding had come and gone. Tomas visited her once in the morning and again in the evening.

  He was in tears during both, saddened he would take another as his bride, and even more once he’d done the deed.

  He’d not said as much, but she knew the king had taken the woman to his bed. He never left Alara that evening. When the sun rose to shine on her in the morning, she woke to the feeling of him beside her. He had crawled into her bed, his head on her shoulder; his fingers entangled with hers. She felt the familiar callouses; the warmth of his breath and the smell of his hair. That was the closest he had been to her in years.

  “My lord?” Alara’s maid entered the room.

  She arrived each morning to bathe and dress Alara. All while she worked, she sang to the queen, like a mother to a child.

  “Gretchen.” The name caught in his throat. He cleared it, laid a kiss on Alara’s cheek, and rose from the bed. “I…” Tomas searched for words but failed.

  “It’s okay, Majesty. You had a rough day, yesterday.” Alara heard the girl move about the room, content to go about her usual duties while her king lingered. “For what it’s worth, I believe she understands what we say to her. I think she would be okay with what you’ve done. She knows you will always love her.” Gretchen’s voice sounded far away as if she kept her back to him as she spoke. If she could voice it, Alara would have reassured him that she agreed with her maid.

  “Thank you, Gretchen.” Tomas’ hand slid from atop of Alara’s, and he was gone.

  He hadn’t revisited for what seemed a long while.

  Gretchen and Cedric kept her company for the most part. She was comforted in knowing she was never alone.

  When Tomas finally appeared in her room while Cedric sat near her, Alara knew it must have been the dead of night.

  She heard their hushed voices, then felt as someone lifted her head from her pillow and parted her lips. The glass was cold, and the contents even colder.

  She felt as it poured into her mouth. They pushed her jaw closed, and her head tipped backward as the cold substance flowed down her throat. It must have been done. That must have been what would save her child.

  If she could have, she would have wept for joy and in sorrow.

  DARKNESS erupted over the island of Ikrith. The green glow serving as a cage for the people there flashed like lightning. Clouds fell and settled around the top of the thorn trees. The bolt stayed within the haze of the newly-formed clouds. The sorcerer, Iren, smiled.

  “Come, we must move. Things are progressing.” He pushed his staff into the earth at his feet to help propel him forward as he walked. His white robes dragged along the ground behind him, the hood never touching the white of his hair.

  Although an old man for many years, he moved with the air of a twenty-year-old. Being trapped on the island of his home did nothing to deter him from helping those needing it.

  He knew who caged him and the rest of his people. A pupil who felt a certain way about how they, as magic-bearing folk, had to serve others with more prominent titles.

  The boy working for him came upon his eighteenth birthday. Iren knew he would serve him well. He clasped the dark-haired boy on the shoulder as he caught up to him. “Is everything ready, Charles?”

  He stammered. Four years with the sorcerer, and he was still impressed enough to be nervous around the man. “Y…yes, sir. Everything is waiting as you asked.”

  “Good. Good. It’s almost time. Now, we wait.” The old man looked into the sky and the green cap above their heads. The storm never left the clouds, as he predicted. The magic used to cage them was superior to his. However, all magic bore a signature. He knew the moment the earth opened to erupt in thorns whose work it had been. “We are ready.”

  “To be sure, can we just look in the other crib?” A small woman, the size of a walnut, flew around the empty crib of a child, thousands of miles from the island of magic bearers. She twirled her blonde curls around her finger as she and her sisters decided what they would do to complete the task given to them.

  “Nerie, if one is empty, then I think it’s safe to say they both are!” the little dark-haired woman yelled at her sister. The blue of her dress streaked the air as she moved.

  “Quiet, both of you. Come here!” The red-haired woman hovered over a playpen in the center of the nursery. “They are in here.” Her wings flapped at her back as she circled the babies below.

  “Oh my, Eirene, which is which?” Nerie bit nervously on her fingernails.

  “Stop that!” Her sister, the red-haired one, slapped her hand from her mouth.

  “Ow!” Nerie whined, holding her hand close to her with a child’s pout. She wrapped the sore hand in the pink skirt of her dress.

  “Well, which one do we take?” The dark-haired woman flew over the pen. She moved from one child to the other, confusion setting in.

  When Talia went into labor, Tomas planned to be by her side. Since the babies were linked to each other, it was fitting that Alara went into labor as well. “You should be with her. Go.” Talia begged Tomas. He’d only gotten as far as the open doorway into her room before she insisted he leave.

  “Are you sure?” He moved cl
oser, but Talia screamed in agony, holding her hand out for him to stop.

  “Yes.” She panted in between the pain. “That child deserves to have at least one parent there to embrace him when he’s born. Go be with your son.” She clenched her teeth again. “We will be here when you get back.”

  It was a race to see which of the children would be born first. What they didn’t expect was the boys being born mere seconds apart. Nobody anticipated they would be born with the same black hair, green eyes, and fair skin. They both had features from the king. He couldn’t deny either of them. The more they grew, the more they resembled their father. What nobody commented on was that they both also resembled Alara. Talia never made a note of it out loud, but surely even she saw that her own child had no resemblance to her.

  “I say we just pick one.” Eirene smoothed the blue skirt of her dress, fluttering overhead of the boys, who cooed in the pen below.

  “Just pick, but what if we grab the wrong one?” Nerie looked at her eldest sister, Grella, anxiously.

  “She’s right. There’s no way to tell which one is whom.” Grella studied both babies. “That one.” She pointed to the boy on the left.

  “Sleep, little one. Everything shall be fine when you wake.” Nerie sprinkled a pink dusting of powder over the boy.

  The child yawned, and before his head could hit the bottom of the pen, he began to float into the air. The little prince next to him cried as his brother drifted away.

  “Quickly now. We must go. Someone will come to see to the crying.” Grella wiped the pink dust from the skirt of her yellow dress.

  The child floated through the open window, with three tiny lights twinkling after him; one pink, one yellow, and the last one blue. They moved swiftly, clearing the palace grounds before the wet nurse made her way into the nursery.

  The three fairies could barely hear the faint scream as they fled. The nurse called the guards, who searched the palace over. They looked high and low, but they never found the prince.

  When the news of the kidnapping reached the king, he dropped everything and fled to the nursery.

  Tomas thought he’d find Talia there. He figured she’d be concerned for the children, but the room was empty save for the wet nurse. None of the maids had seen her in the palace at all.

  Fear consumed him. His wife and child had been kidnapped. He took his little prince from the nurse and made his way to the tower room of gold.

  “Majesty?” Cedric moved to block the door.

  “I’d like to see my wife. I need to know she is safe.” Tomas made to push his way past the guard.

  “I’m sorry, Majesty, but I cannot permit you to go in there. Though, I assure you the queen is fine.” Cedric stood firm. Straight-backed, his hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist, but he wasn’t posturing.

  “What do you mean? Why won’t you let me pass?” Tomas adjusted his son in his arms. “One of my children is missing. Talia is missing. I need to make sure Alara is okay.”

  “Missing? Did you just not ask after your wife? I can assure you Alara is fine.” He let his shoulders relax slightly. “The physician is examining Queen Alara. The queen consort, your wife, has asked they not be disturbed.”

  “Talia is in there? With Alara? She’ll want to know about the baby.” Tomas looked down at his son.

  He hadn’t even stopped to look; to see which of his children he held in his arms. When he saw the big green eyes, he knew he was staring into the eyes of Alara’s child. A part of him was relieved. His heir was safe. Another part of him grew frantic with worry for his other son. His only thought then was that Talia needed to know her son was missing. Before he could voice his concerns further, the door flung open.

  “Tomas?” Talia looked over Cedric’s shoulder at her husband. “They’ve just told me. Landon has been taken from the nursery.” She reached out past the guard, not giving him the slightest thought, and took the baby from Tomas’ arms. “I need to hold my son.”

  “Talia, I’m so sorry.” Tomas took a step clear of Cedric, pulling his wife to him, the babe in her arms.

  She held him close to her but never examined him as Tomas had. Her hand cradled the boy’s head, and she kissed it lightly.

  “Landon wasn’t the one taken.”

  “Nonsense.” She considered the king, bewildered. “Tomas, I know my own child. Don’t be ridiculous. They said Landon was taken straight from his crib. So, of course, this is my Declan.” She kissed the boy’s head once more, then handed him to the wet nurse, who’d found them crowding the hall.

  “I’m sorry—” Tomas began, but she cut him off.

  “As you should be.” She took off down the hall, her heels clapping against the stone floor. “Alara is fine, by the way. Go sit with her if you must,” she said without stopping, disappearing around a bend. She’d gone in the opposite direction than the nurse with his child.

  Tomas noticed Cedric still standing guard next to Alara’s door. He glanced at the king for a brief second and then averted his eyes to the floor. “You saw that?” he asked his guard.

  “Yes, Majesty. Sorry. I did not intend to hear anything, but as you did not lower your voices…” Cedric looked up. Again, he glanced briefly at the king and then moved his gaze straight ahead.

  “No, don’t be.” Tomas laid a hand on the closed door but paused. “Cedric, may I ask you a question?”

  “Of course, sire. It is you I serve.”

  “You observe, don’t you? I mean, it’s your job to see and hear everything. To protect the queen.” Tomas looked sidelong at Cedric whose eyes hadn’t left the wall opposite him.

  “Yes, sire.” He appeared forlorn.

  “And what are your observations? Pretend it is not I who asks,” Tomas said in earnest.

  “My observations, Your Majesty, would lead me to believe Queen Talia has not actually taken the time to see her prince. She merely believed she had the correct child in her arms.” Cedric spoke low so no one else would hear him.

  “You did notice then?”

  Cedric turned his eyes to Tomas. “I tell you she didn’t even look in his eyes. Everyone in the palace can tell them apart if they look in their eyes.” He bowed his head and eyes to the king and resumed his post.

  Tomas pushed the door open, and he came face to face with the palace physician.

  “Your Majesty.” The old man stumbled his bow, having to grab the shoulder of his companion to steady himself. “The queen is doing well. She has stopped bleeding and remains as she was before her belly grew with the child.”

  “So, other than her apparent condition, she is healthy?’

  “Yes, Majesty. I believe she is.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” Tomas inclined his head to the physician and his servant, turning himself so they may pass him. Once alone with Alara, he felt the warmth of tears shed from his eyes. “You are fine. Our son is fine.” He stroked a finger against her cheek.

  She felt cool to the touch, but still, her warm breath moved in and out of her. He felt for it every time he visited through her slightly parted lips.

  “Oh, what am I to do?”

  “Majesty.” A whisper came from behind the curtain hanging over the glass doors.

  “Gretchen?” Tomas turned to the obviously shaken girl. Leading her to the chair near Alara’s head, he tried to soothe her. “What, in all the kingdoms are you doing behind there? Gretchen, what is the matter? What’s happened?” He draped the blanket from the back of the chair around the girl’s shoulders.

  A small thing, her mousy brown hair, and freckles made her look much younger than nineteen. Her uniform carefully hid her tiny frame— a heavy dress, from the looks of it.

  Grey and white was Tomas’ mother’s idea. It allowed the help to go about their duties without attracting too much attention. A way for them to blend into the shadows. Something Tomas feared worked too well for Gretchen.

  She continued shaking as if the cold had frozen her. However, she was apparently in shock.<
br />
  “Please. Tell me what you’ve seen. What have you heard in here tonight?”

  “It’s the queen, Your Majesty.” She looked past him as if he wasn’t there. She raised a hand and stuck out a slender finger. “She stood right there.”

  “Alara stood?” he asked.

  “No, Majesty. Talia. The queen consort. She’s not who you think.” Suddenly, fear and panic emerged on the girl’s face. “She means to kill you. Both of you. She planned Landon’s kidnapping. Made the doctor assure her that the queen wasn’t going to wake from her curse.” She stammered as she spoke.

  Tomas felt his brows crease. He heard the question in his mind but couldn’t bring himself to voice it.

  “She…”

  Tomas looked at the girl as she tried to speak again.

  “She said the boy was taken to a cottage in Vlora.”

  “Vlora? But everyone there is dead.” The realization struck him.

  She’d confirmed his thought with a simple nod.

  “You mustn’t tell anyone,” he advised. “Go on as if nothing happened tonight. I will take care of it.”

  Gretchen could only nod. She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. Color started to return to her face. She’d stopped shivering, although she remained clearly affected by all she’d witnessed.

  “Cedric!” the king yelled for the guard. When the door opened and closed, Tomas stood to address the man. Just as he looked upon him, an idea struck. “Cedric, are you married? Attached?”

  “No, Majesty. I’m just sixteen.”

  “Well, then. I think you’ll do just fine. I have a vital job for you. Ready two horses but be quiet about it. We leave in an hour. I have something to ask of you on the way to our destination.”