Alara's Curse

by S. L. Perrine

  The queen stood somberly for a moment, the prince stoic in his thoughts as well. When neither said anything, Cedric looked around. The only thing visible from their vantage point was the ruins of the castle. “He might have gone there if he’d escaped Talia.”

  “Oh, goodness.” Alara took in the sight of the home of her youth. “It’s really gone.” Her voice caught, and her eyes widened. “I hope he’s not in there. It looks like it could collapse at any moment.”

  She hiked up her skirt, forgetting its new length, and let it drop. When she moved towards the castle, she winced. Both Declan and Cedric grabbed her, one on each side, until she was half in the prince’s lap.

  “What is it?” Declan searched her face.

  “It must be worse than I thought.” She coughed and had to bend forward to spit out a large amount of blood. “Internal bleeding doesn’t heal quite as easily as bruises.” She squinted at Declan. “Just tell him I tried to get to him.” She winced again and drew her arm around her midsection as she coughed uncontrollably. Blood spilled over her lower lip, landing on her chin and chest.

  "What are you talking about?" Cedric asked. There was no fear in her as her eyes closed.

  "The mare. She must have bucked and landed on Alara." Declan moved away. "That means—"

  "Right. Unless something has changed in the time I've been gone, I would need a healer to walk away from this." Alara laughed and coughed. The ground changed from green to crimson underfoot.

  "I'll go. I'll get Landon and bring him here." Cedric jumped to his feet and moved towards the horse.

  Declan picked up the queen's small frame and carried her to the smaller couch not overturned from the fight. He smoothed her red hair. Looking at her pale face, he could see what little color she had slipping away.

  "There has to be something," Declan observed her, disapproving. “You can't just die. Not from an accident with a horse." Anger rose in him, much more than when they argued. He dropped to the floor beside the couch. “This can’t be happening.” He stood and paced the room.

  The coughing made him turn back to her side. Spying a large sheet on the back of an upturned chair, he grabbed it and wiped her mouth.

  The blood came at an alarming rate with every movement she made. Her breathing became labored, and red covered her hands. Her face appeared sunken in, with dark circles forming under her eyes. The only color left in her face was the blood coating her lips.

  “There is nothing to do.” She coughed more, catching it in her hand. Declan replaced her hand with the sheet, wiping the blood away as best he could. “The healers are all gone.”

  “Still, if only the sisters were alive when we arrived, they could have healed you.” He watched her, not wanting to believe she had come to her end just as his father was being taken from him.

  His mother was a crazed witch, and there was the possibility of having to deal with the death of his brother if Cedric didn’t find him in the ruined castle. He didn’t want to lose one more person he cared about. Anaphias couldn’t survive to lose Alara a second time.

  He paced the room.

  The sun dipped behind the horizon by the time he’d heard the hoofs of the horse beating against the ground. A look out the window told him Cedric had found someone. The cloaked person on the horse with him barely held onto the guard as he rode.

  Alara had gone quiet. Her breathing was shallow, and he could hear the blood bubbling with each exhale. More time went by before the cloaked figure rushed into the house. He went straight to the sofa, to Alara’s side. Declan pulled his sword the moment the stranger took the queen by the hand.

  “Majesty, listen to me.” He spoke calmly, smoothing her hair back from her face. “You have the life force of three fae in you. With that comes their magic. Find the will to heal, and so it shall be done.” He spoke over and over into her ear. Urging her to heal, to hear his words; to open her eyes and look at him.

  Cedric joined them, giving Declan a stern look. He remembered he still had his sword drawn on the hooded figure. He’d been too shocked by the stranger’s words, watching, hoping she heard him.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Alara’s breathing strengthened. The color came back to her face. She inhaled deeply, causing a coughing fit, but they saw no blood. When the coughing ceased, she lay back and opened her eyes.

  Landon pulled down his hood. For Declan, it was as if he looked in a mirror. The only difference was the small brown spot on Declan’s chin and the green of Landon’s eyes, which was a shade paler.

  “Hi there,” he said to his mother; a woman who bore the resemblance of an age only a few years his senior. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  Alara laughed, and another coughing fit ensued. Cedric quickly intervened with a glass of water. Landon stepped back and took in the sight of Declan for the first time since he entered the house. He smiled at his brother and found himself rewarded with a mirrored expression.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you too.” Landon held out his hand to Declan, but Declan dismissed his brother’s outstretched arm. He went to him and embraced his long-lost brother in a hug.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve been looking for you. Had I known…”

  “Father didn’t want anyone to know where I was for a good reason.” He glanced down at Alara, giving Declan a nod, and went back to her side.

  “Thank you.” Alara reached out to Landon, pulling his hands into hers.

  “I just knew what you didn’t.” Landon took in the sight of the house and then settled his gaze back to Alara. “They were hired to kidnap your son. We were supposed to be in our beds. Talia made sure they knew which cradle to take the baby from. When they showed up, and we were together in a playpen, the fae panicked.” He looked down at a picture he had drawn for the sisters when he was younger. “I guess Father knew which of us had been taken. Talia hadn’t even taken the time to pay attention to details. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why are you, sorry? You were just a baby.” Alara tried to console him.

  “I’m sorry you risked your life to come and find Talia’s missing son.” He looked at Declan. “Your son has been with you all along.”

  “How is that possible?” Cedric asked the question before Declan had a chance to wrap his head around what his brother said.

  “If we stood in front of my dear mother right now, she wouldn’t be able to tell us apart. The same can be said for when we were infants. She assumed we were in our own cradles because she wasn’t told anything different. That’s how Father knew she was responsible. She insisted Landon was taken because we were in our own cradles. She didn’t know the wet nurse found out we slept best together.” He’d looked down at Alara to make sure she followed along. “She’d been laying us down together every night for more than a week. Mother never came to the nursery, so how would she have known where we’d be that late in the evening?”

  “So, you’re not my son?” Her face showed her pain, but her voice said it was merely shocking.

  “No, I’m not. Declan is— and the rightful king,” he said to his brother, standing. “I will not fight you, brother. If I had any interest in being the ruler of Anaphias, I could have kept the story to myself.” He took a step back and bowed. “Your Majesty.”

  Declan felt his breath catch in his throat. “You don’t know, then?”

  Landon stood. “Know what?”

  “Our father still lives.” Declan saw Cedric’s hand move to rest on the hilt of his sword as he spoke; an innocent movement, but one making Landon a bit nervous.

  “He does?” He looked between Alara and his brother.

  Declan nodded, answering his question. “Just barely. Father’s been poisoned for many years. It won’t be much longer.” Declan looked at Alara. “How are you feeling?” he asked curtly. “We should get back to the king.” All the emotion he’d once showed her had disappeared.

  “I’ll be fine.” She attempted to move.

  “You don’t look fine. B
esides, we can’t go back to the palace. She’s probably there already.” Landon’s eyes moved between the three of them in the room.

  Cedric stood at Alara’s feet; Declan at her head. Their posturing didn’t go unnoticed.

  Landon glanced to Alara for help. “What makes you say that?” she asked him as she tried to pull herself to a sitting position.

  “She left me because she heard about the return of Alara, Queen of Anaphias. The people have been talking about nothing else, from the palace to Vlora. All of Ikrith probably know by now. You really should have been more careful.” Landon offered.

  “Why?” Her voice had a slight hint of indignation. She was the queen, and her task was to let her people know she’d returned; that they had hope.

  “Well…” He paced the room, grabbing at things scattered about. “For one, now she knows. I doubt she did before coming here. She would be more upset that she left the palace unaware, I think. Secondly, she’ll use it to her advantage somehow. Leaving the palace was not such a good idea.”

  “If she didn’t know about Alara’s waking, then she didn’t hear us talking about you. How would she have known to come here?” Declan asked.

  “Father was gloating, apparently. Said she’d tricked herself into raising the wrong son.” Landon looked grim. His chiseled chin and upturned nose made him look just like his father, yet his almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones made him look just like Alara. Declan didn’t see anything resembling Talia. Then again, he never saw it in himself either.

  The sun disappeared, and night had claimed the sky. With the house in shambles, the most natural thing for them to do was turn in for the night.

  Alara stayed where she was. Her new-found healing ability worked for the most part. Although still sore, she no longer seemed in danger of dying. Since she couldn’t think of how she healed herself when Landon coaxed her, she let exhaustion take her and drifted to sleep.

  Cedric flipped over a plush armchair and rested beside Alara. His sword rested on his lap. His cloak draped over the queen.

  The empty windowpanes allowed for a gentle breeze to sweep in through the lower level of the house.

  With the guise of needing air, Declan went outside. Landon retreated to the second level and his room. They hadn’t discussed what they would do when the sun rose in the morning. It was evident they had no idea what they should do.

  Alara was adamant about getting Landon and Declan back to their father. If she could have persuaded them, she would have made them both leave, allowing her to stay behind in Cedric’s care. Declan would never agree to it.

  Pacing helped him think. He’d always been able to get through the stress of a lesson by walking the grounds of the palace. He spent most of his time walking around the statue of an angel in the center of the garden while reading a book. It allowed him time to relax his mind.

  He didn’t have a book or the light by which to read, but there was the light of the moon; the smell of the flowers growing all around the house. He kicked the rocks at his feet and watched them as they rolled away.

  What would they do? Go to the palace? He had no idea what Talia was capable of.

  He’d lived his entire life believing the woman to be his mother and never knew what she could do. He never felt a connection to her. Now he knew why.

  He kicked a larger rock, but it didn’t budge. He cursed under his breath. Instead of admitting defeat, Declan slid against the side of the house to the ground and rested his head in his hands.

  Cedric kicked Declan’s foot. The prince woke with a jerk. His hands fell away, the sunlight blazing into his eyes.

  “You slept out here? With no cover; no protection? Are you trying to give her a heart attack? You’re lucky I found you before she woke.” Cedric kicked the prince’s foot again.

  “What do I care if she’s upset?” Declan said, dry-mouthed as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

  “You should care. Maybe that’s the difference between you and your brother. He seemed to care about three women who took him from his family and almost killed him. He cares for the queen, even though she is your mother and not his. Or did you miss that point in the conversation?” Cedric kept his voice low so as not to let the other two hear his words.

  The prince let his eyes adjust to the bright sun before attempting to stand. He felt like a drunk man waking the morning after a lousy barroom brawl.

  His stiff joints protested his movements as he stood— first his knees and then his lower back. In unison, they played a sort of accordion as the bones and joints popped. He combed his fingers through his hair, straightened his shirt, and adjusted his cloak.

  “That is something I have not yet thought of. My mother has been Talia for sixteen years. It’s kind of hard to think of Alara as my mother, even if I’d hoped it was true all my life.” Declan looked around at the open field.

  There truly was no one else in this area of Vlora. He doubted anyone knew this house existed. It was the perfect hiding spot. No one would have come looking.

  He didn’t even come looking for his brother in the ruins, at his father’s insistence, of course. When his father suggested it was nothing more than rubble, Declan hadn’t given it a second thought.

  “Why would you wish that?” Cedric asked, pulling Declan from his inner turmoil.

  He shouldn’t have listened to his father. He’d always been taught to never take another’s word for something. He should have searched himself.

  “Because the cold shoulder of a woman who barely looked at you was harder to deal with than the lack of attention from a sleeping mother who couldn’t look at you. Figure that out.” Declan wiped the dirt from his breeches and left Cedric alone by the door of the house, walking toward the horses.

  When Cedric turned, he found Alara standing just inside the hallway entering the kitchen. He took the few steps into the home and bowed his head. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. You have no right to concern yourself with any of this. The only thing you were correct in chastising Declan for was sleeping outdoors without a guard.” She turned on her heel and left the room.

  “What’s got them all wound up?’ Landon was seated atop the counter next to the stove in the kitchen. He ate from a half-broken bowl.

  “Her?” He pointed in the direction of the living room. “I have no idea. I know even little more about Declan. So, I try not to wonder,” he shook his head. His long hair tickled the back of his neck. His cloak too heavy for his shoulders, he rested his wrist on the hilt of his sword at his waist and sighed. “Any idea where we should venture to?” He looked at the young prince, seeming to consider the face of his brother. The animosity rolled off him, but he kept it in check. Landon had not earned his contempt.

  “I would imagine the queen would like to go home,” Landon said without looking up. He discarded his bowl in the sink beside the dirty dishes never dealt with before the attack.

  “I don’t think the palace is such a good idea. At least not until we know where Talia is.”

  “I don’t mean the palace. This is Alara’s homeland. It’s where she was raised. This house would have been hers had she not married a king. The castle…,” he pointed out the window, toward the same ruins he’d stared at every day, wishing to see it. “That’s where she grew up; where her parents were slaughtered. She might want to visit.” He hopped off the counter and slipped past Cedric, out the back door.

  Rustling in the other room had Cedric moving faster than he’d thought possible. “You know, Declan is right. Had someone entered the house from the front door, I’d be dead. Are you a guard?” Alara asked accusingly.

  “I’m a guard of an unmoving target. I had one room to protect, with only one way in or out, unless you count the balcony— which I never did,” He said in response.

  Her hair was immaculate as if she’d worked tirelessly to do it. The hem of her dress stopped at her knees, ripped and jagged. The ordeal with the rocks caused her knees to be scrapped, along
with her hands and face. She’d been able to heal everything on the inside. The outside would hold scars.

  “Well, on our next adventure, we shall have more guards.” She made a show of giggling.

  "It's awful, isn't it, that I can't defend you? I was just someone to watch over you in case you woke. The king didn't give me a real job at all, did he?" Cedric felt pitiful by the thought of being inconsequential.

  "I don't think that at all. To be very honest, I believe Tomas chose you for a reason. When we figure that out, it'll make more sense." She was honest, and he knew it. Every moment she spoke, she sounded truthful. She spoke the truth and expected everyone else did as well. If it was said, she took it as truth regardless of its nature.

  "Why do you think he never told anyone about your son?" His brows arched as he asked her.

  "For the same reason, he never let Landon come home to the palace; to keep the boys and himself safe. As far as Talia was concerned, I was forever lost to all of them. So, Tomas had a duty to protect the ones left. That is why I firmly believe there is more to the story of why he chose you. We will figure it out. I know Tomas better than he knows himself. He does nothing without a valid reason."

  Cedric took the time to study her as she spoke. The color returned to her face. The scratches were starting to fade, and her posture looked much better as she moved about the house.

  "I'm just not meant to defend you with a sword." He laughed but meant the words he said.

  "No, I don't believe you are. I think Tomas' idea of protection on this little adventure was Declan. Why the king wanted him to travel with us is now more apparent than anything else." She moved to the window as a hooded figure passed between the trees outside. “If he weren’t here, he would not know that I’m his true mother. And… I’d probably be dead if not for his sword skills.”

  Closer inspection told her the blood-colored cloak covered a tall but lean figure. The shoes on the person's feet stuck out from behind the tree. They looked too slim to be any man's boots. Too dainty.