“Very well. Good night, Declan.”
“Good night,” he said with another bow, turned on his heel and exited the room, disappearing into the darkness.
Alara stood staring, she realized, at the two large chairs occupying the center of the dais at the end of the long room. Nothing had changed about the chairs, yet it seemed as though she walked into the place for the very first time.
The floors were the same gray stone as the rest of the palace. Only bedrooms and private chambers had hardwood floors or rugs.
A long red carpet led from the door to the top of the dais. It extended to cover the length of the steps and the stage where the two chairs sat. They shone, even in the candlelight, like the wood had just been polished.
The red leather still covered the seat and back, the banner of the Basile family imprinted into the leather of the king’s chair; a great lion wearing a royal crown. She gasped as the emotions she’d bottled up threatened to escape. A single tear ran down her cheek, and she swiped it away.
She almost forgot herself when she heard the telltale noise of guards within the room.
One on each side of the stage stood dressed in their royal king’s guard uniforms; complete with a sword at their waists and shields on their backs. They would be the guards responsible for the night watch. They had nothing of any value to protect within this room. However, had the king or his court been summoned in the dead of night for an audience of any kind, they would be on post and at the ready.
“Sorry, gentlemen. I will leave you to your evening.” Her breath caught in her throat and she turned briskly to leave the room, bumping forcefully into Cedric. “Oh, my,” her hand flew to her heart.
“Your Majesty, I am so sorry. I thought you knew I was there.” Cedric grasped her by both arms to steady her, then he let go. Color rushed to his face, and he was thankful for the low flames on the candles in the lamps above.
“No! I mean, yes. Of course, I knew you were there, but not directly behind me.” Her hands clutched the space above her heart as she tried to slow her breathing. “Have you never guarded someone who moved about the palace?”
Again, he was thankful for the dim lights in the room as he answered. “No, Majesty. I have only ever been charged with watching over you.” He bowed his head, taking a full step backward, turning so she may pass.
Alara moved carefully past him. “Well, we will have to fix that. Come along.”
“Majesty,” Gretchen called down the hall. “It is well past your bedtime. You have a long journey tomorrow.”
“Gretchen. I fear I may never want to close my eyes again. I’ve slept far too long already.”
“Be that as it may, milady, that was a different kind of sleep. You still need your rest,” the maid pushed on.
“I don’t know that I can go. What about the king? I will never forgive myself if he passed on, and I not by his side.” She thought of Tomas for a moment.
“Milady, if I may?” Cedric spoke from several paces behind them. “He wants you to go after your son. The king can’t be helped. I know that sounds bad, but the prince needs you to find him now.”
Alara turned and glared at Cedric, who didn’t lower his eyes or look away from her. He glared right back. What stunned her was she didn’t mind it. After all, he was right.
The next day was unbearable.
Even though Alara knew she had to leave, she couldn’t tear herself away.
Tomas told her she was being ridiculous. Cedric was right.
The king cared nothing for who stood by his side. He knew his time was at an end. His face grew paler; his voice harder to hear. The skin around his eyes had turned a sickly brown, and he knew every moment Talia was left alone with Landon was a moment too long. Though Alara hadn’t heard the words, he spoke when she left the room.
“Forgive me, my cowardice.” For he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that Declan was her son. Not Landon.
He had known of the switch since the beginning, and he’d been glad to have Landon grow up away from his mother’s influence. That he had been able to groom the future king of the kingdom. Though Tomas couldn’t look his wife in the eye and admit he allowed the charade to go on for even a day.
He should have brought Landon home when he found him with the three sisters.
Alara arrived at the stables, surprised to find a third horse prepared for the journey. Looking around, she saw no one; not even Cedric, who was usually three steps behind her.
“Excuse me.”
A young boy of ten years old pushed hay around in the barn. He dropped the feed and ran to Alara, bowed, and smiled up at her. He was a filthy little thing with dirt smudged into his skin and clothes, but he still smiled.
“I wonder if you know who the third rider will be.”
The little boy said nothing, but he pointed a bony little finger behind her.
When she turned, she saw Cedric and Declan approaching. “The prince?” she asked, turning back to the boy, but he’d run off to tend to his hay pile.
He pulled it from large bricks and spread it across the floor.
“He’s mute,” the prince said drawing closer. “His parents were attacked; killed in front of him when he was five years old. He hasn’t spoken since.”
Tears welled in Alara’s eyes. “Such harsh things have happened while I’ve been asleep. It's a wonder these people care for me at all.”
“Well, it’s not your fault a witch has cursed the lands, taken people hostage, trapped others on an island, or poisoned the king. None of it is your fault.” Cedric clarified for her, staying a respectable distance behind Alara and the prince.
She turned to glance at him.
“It’s Talia’s fault,” Declan continued. “I mean to come with you to find my brother. To make sure he’s not blaming himself, either.”
“How do you know he would blame himself? Or that I do?” She looked at him, and the royal expression of arrogance stared back at her for a moment.
Then his face softened, and he looked to the horses.
“Because I blame myself. I have for a very long time. There are so many things I should have seen. Things I could have done.” He walked to the white mare and ran his hand from her ear to her front leg, lifting her foot to get a look at the shoe. “I’ve sat by for too long. Now, some things must be done, and I will see that they are.”
“Your father needs someone here. Don’t you think?” She signaled Cedric to come closer. He moved to the white mare, placing her saddlebags on the horse. It was full of anything they thought they might need on the journey, as well as his own. “You will be king. Your place is here.”
“No, my brother will be king, and…” He looked stern yet gentle. “My place is where I will be most effective. Father has asked me to go along on this trip, and I intend to. I’m sorry, Majesty if you have any objections but the matter is closed.” That said, he moved to the horse, whose mane was as dark as the hair on his head, and gracefully pulled himself up to perch in the seat.
“Spoken like a true king. I know your father is very proud of you. I am too.” She let Cedric help her into the saddle. A lot less graceful, but also a lot less experienced with the movement. She had never been graceful when mounting a horse before she was cursed, and she refused to feign grace for the sake of titles.
The ride was long and cumbersome. The world looked a lot different than she remembered. The grass was still green, and the flowers even bloomed with vibrancy and fragrance. However, the people had changed. Alara only hoped it was reversible.
They rode by a small group of houses on the outskirts of the village beyond the palace walls. She expected to see children playing; animals roaming the troths and pens around the properties.
When they used to ride by, the kids would line up to greet them and cheer them on as they departed the grounds. What she saw instead was grumpy-faced adults and sad-faced children who kept to their chores.
None bothered to look. Though some seemed as if they want
ed to stop and make a fuss, they continued what they did. A man, in roughly his forties, saw the prince ahead of her and gave him a curt nod, then turned on his heel. No one seemed interested in seeing who his traveling companion was.
"Do they always spurn your mother when she travels through?" Alara took a chance and asked the prince.
He quickened his pace and kept his eyes forward, nodding in reply.
A small barrel came crashing down in front of Alara's horse.
"Oh, my. I am so sorry, Your Majesty. I’m sure he didn't mean to—" A woman reached for the child who'd upturned the barrel. "William! Oh, no. He meant no harm by it at all, Majesty. Please don't harm him!" The woman held her child close to her. Her eyes never left the ground at her feet. The child teared up.
Alara slid down from her horse. She pulled the hood from over her head, and her bright red hair caught the afternoon sun.
The men and women nearby gasped.
"I would never lay a hand on a child." Alara pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped at the boy's eyes.
"Mi’lady?" the woman asked before looking into the emerald green eyes and red hair; the fair skin and gentle smile. "Your Majesty, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." The woman looked at the prince and Cedric, more than likely in search of the king, then her eyes settled once more to Alara. "Thank you," she said, tears welling in her eyes.
"You’re very welcome." Alara laid her hand upon the boy's face and wiped another tear from his cheek with her thumb. "Don't fret. The world as we know it is about to change."
She let Cedric help her back onto her horse. When they were far enough from the houses, Declan allowed his horse to slow, so they rode side by side with Cedric in the rear.
"What you did back there... I've never seen such kindness from anyone other than my father. Even he lets Talia have her way with the people." His eyes never left the road in front of him. He didn't seem to be looking where he was going, but more like he looked into a deep-seated memory he'd thought forgotten. "She was never very nice."
"Declan. Was she ever harsh with you? Did she ever—"
"No. No, Father would never let Mother lay a hand on me. Not that she'd tried. She would try to set a punishment, and he would argue that the heir was ruled by the king and no one else. She hardly had a say in my upbringing." He smiled for a moment and looked at her. "I guess he showed kindness to me as well. I just didn't know it."
"I suppose so."
Alara couldn't imagine anyone ever taking a hand to any child. There was never a reason good enough for such a thing. She only hoped her son had received some sort of kindness as well.
They rode on for the rest of the day in relative silence, passing another village of people too scorned to make any announcement or cheer for a royal walkthrough. By the time they'd reached the third village of houses, Alara had taken to riding without her hood up.
When the people saw the once-sleeping queen on her way to their villages, word quickly spread. When they'd reached the fourth and fifth towns, the townspeople waited to catch a glimpse of their returned queen.
Within the day, it would have spread from Anaphias to Esix of her return. Just as she wanted it. She wanted her people to have hope. She wished word of her return to reach her son so he may know she was coming for him.
IT wasn’t just the people who looked different in her eyes. Declan could also see how she responded to voices. Whenever Gretchen spoke, Alara closed her eyes for a moment. Declan caught her doing that with Cedric, and even with himself on occasion.
He wondered how much of the last sixteen years she remembered. At five years of age, his father asked him if he could keep the sleeping queen company for a little while every day.
He didn’t see why he should. She wasn’t his mother. But for the sake of his lost brother, he did it. He’d gone to her room and brought his coloring book and crayons.
He lay at the foot of the bed on his stomach, coloring pictures and telling her of his day. Sometimes he merely hummed to himself, forgetting he was supposed to be talking to her.
As he got older, he used the time he spent with her as an excuse to get out of all sorts of things.
Whether he felt ashamed of it or not could have been the reason why he thought he had to talk to her. He told her of his troubles; his triumphs. He even said ridiculous things like how he’d been dying to date and have a social life.
On a few occasions, he’d spoken of the pain he felt over not having found Landon. Also, for the fact, he hadn’t a real relationship with his mother.
By the time he turned ten, he wished Alara was his mother. At least she had an excuse for not paying attention to him.
Eventually, his wish was forgotten, and he pretended she was. Calling her “Mother” whenever he would visit. If she remembered any of it, she hadn’t said yet.
Declan realized he stared at her and felt the flush of heat rush to his face. The tips of his ears surely turned red. He averted his eyes to the road ahead, thankful that Cedric moved to ride between Alara and himself.
“We should rest now. The horses will need tending to,” Cedric said to no one in particular.
When his father became ill, Declan assumed the role of the king. Now that the rightful queen was present, he had to learn to let go of the reigns.
“I’ll leave it up to Your Majesty.” Declan kept his horse moving. He saw a clearing up ahead and thought it looked like the perfect place. Once they assessed if they would indeed be stopping, he figured they would camp there.
“I think at this point; you can call me Alara. Family only refers to each other with royal titles in political circumstances.” She smiled at Cedric when he gave a short snort and a chuckle. “What is so funny?”
“The fact that you two are working together but are so unsure of yourselves, you don’t even know what to call the other. This is going to be one long journey.” Cedric shook his head and made for the clearing. When he reached it, he dismounted his horse and tied its reins to a tree.
Alara sauntered her mare to where Cedric stood and let him help her off the horse. Cedric laughed at her once more as she started to walk after an entire day riding.
“Do you not sit sidesaddle?” Declan thought quickly.
“Not when I’m riding a fair bit of distance, no. It’s not safe.” She sat on a fallen tree trunk so slowly, Declan thought he could have the horses fed and watered before her bottom touched the bark.
“Well, maybe you’d like to reconsider alternating for a day or two.” Cedric helped her down to the log.
“I just might.” She looked up at the sky. Whether with fascination or relief, Declan couldn’t tell.
The prince helped Cedric feed, water, and brush down the horses. He worked his hands over his animal, which kept his mind from wandering to unpleasant thoughts.
Landon hadn’t been raised by their father. He was just a sixteen-year-old boy out in the wild with a crazed witch after him. Declan wondered whether his mother found him yet or if she’d known where he was.
Vlora covered a vast amount of land. There was no telling where in the ruined city his brother had been raised by the three fae who’d kidnapped him.
The idea that his father had wanted them— of all the beings in the kingdom— to raise a prince was unfathomable. He couldn’t begin to understand what instruction, if any, Landon had received. Surely nothing compared to the studies Declan had endured under their father’s watchful eye.
Landon was the true king. Now that his brother was found, once his father succumbed to the poison from his mother, it would be Landon— not Declan— who’d become king. It should have been his brother who got the top-notch education.
“Hard to give up, isn’t it?” Cedric stood close behind Declan.
The prince hadn’t realized he stared at Alara again.
“What’s that?” Declan grabbed the bedroll off his horse’s saddle.
“The constant companion. The idea of being the only one she’d listen to at a given moment
. The title you thought you were being raised for.” Cedric hit home on too many accounts, and the prince flinched.
Declan’s back went rigid. His shoulders squared, and he stood to his full height; the stance saying he was royalty. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what it was like to grow up as I did, so don’t presume to think you have any idea about what it is I find hard to give up.” He glanced at Alara once more, who’d looked over at them after hearing Declan raise his voice. Then he turned away, so she couldn’t see his face or read his expression. “Remember your place. Protect your queen and mind your business.”
The guard held his ground. He gave the prince a stern look that reminded him of his father. Not wanting to admit his words were wrong, he turned away from Cedric and settled next to the blazing fire.
“Remind me again why we couldn’t stay at an inn?” Alara asked the men when Cedric finally joined them by the fire.
“Because there are enemies everywhere.” Cedric looked at Declan as he spoke. His eyes bore into the prince. “People who may be sympathetic to Talia, or even worse.”
“What’s worse than sympathizing with her?” Declan didn’t understand the implications the words Cedric spoke regarding his mother. Until recently, he’d never seen her behavior for what it truly was.
“I wouldn’t put it past her to have arranged for the queen’s death. Now that her curse has been broken, Alara takes her rightful place on the throne until Prince Landon becomes of age. She will be the queen regent when the king passes, then the queen mother henceforth. Her son will become king. Talia no longer has a foothold in the royal house.” The guard had removed his heavy cloak and helm; his sword on the ground by his side. His arms rested atop his knees, both feet outstretched in front of the fire. He poked at it with a long branch, moving the wood inside. “But then again, it’s not my place to guess your mother’s motives.”
Alara's Curse Page 6
