The Widow’s Curse

by Lucas Flores

“Do you remember when I was on the brink of losing the throne?” the queen asked.

  “I remember,” Blackheart said.

  “It was as if the entire kingdom had come to a sudden realization that the king would not return. Whispers of the barren queen surfaced and bounced between powerful and influential groups of people. Even my own ladies-in-waiting joked about how the king felt the sudden need to leave after we had married.”

  Blackheart nodded. Gossip was rampant back in those days.

  “Well,” the queen continued, “those whispers snowballed into civil disobedience. For all intents and purposes, it was treason. The king’s old court constantly questioned me and undermined my authority by conducting business and passing laws without my consent or approval. They claimed I had no right to be queen since the king left me without an heir. I was unable to speak when they criticized me. They said, ‘Why should we take you seriously if your own husband did not.’ I was just one vote away from losing my crown to Josephine.”

  The queen stared off into space, lost in distant memories. “Then, the answer to all of our problems came to me in the form of a cat. Those bright yellow eyes offered me a deal. One that both of us have profited from over the years. The cat told me that I would be the one to give this kingdom a princess. All I had to do was give her my heart. If I agreed, then I would receive the people’s love and respect. Their doubt would disappear.”

  The queen paused and raised her brow at Blackheart. “I agreed to the cat’s terms for you. You’re the one who wanted all this power and respect. You craved it. And just as it was about to be taken from us, there it was, the answer to all our problems.”

  Blackheart swayed slightly. She grabbed a chair near the queen to steady herself.

  “Why .. . . why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  “Because, I didn’t know what I was getting into. And if you knew it involved a leper, the cat, you would have refused to allow me to go through with it.” The queen closed her eyes and paused before continuing. “I didn’t know that I would literally lose my heart or what I would become, but I’ve accepted it. I’ve accepted everything, Elzana. Even though I’ve suffered, look at what has been accomplished. The old court is gone, Josephine is gone, and we’ve established ourselves as the supreme rulers over all of Wonderland. Things are now exactly the way you wanted them to be.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you, you’re the one who pushed me,” the queen retorted. “You’ve always been there, telling me what to do. Ever since it was announced that I was marrying the king, you pinched and poked me behind the public’s eye. I did everything you asked me to do. I sometimes imagine how different life would be if your parents weren’t . . .”

  “Don’t you dare talk about my parents!”

  The queen stood. “It’s not like they were even there for you while you were growing up. How many times did you utter your hatred of them for never being around? You let your hatred for your parents and their deaths blind you. And now, you’re no different. I have to admit that even I was swept away by your cause. I was manipulated by the angry rants and threats of a bitter crone.”

  Blackheart lunged toward the queen with both arms outstretched. “I told you to shut up!”

  The queen jumped out of the chair, extended one of her long boney arms, and slapped Blackheart across the face.

  Blackheart fell to the ground.

  “You shut up,” the queen said. “I’m not your puppet any longer.” Her nostrils flared as she positioned the tip of the scepter inches above Blackheart’s face. Her eyes narrowed. “I can’t even look at you,” she said before leaving the room.

  Blackheart picked herself up. "I'll show you, puppet," she said as she stormed out of the room and rushed to the Tower. Fuming with anger, she felt as if she was losing control of things happening around her.

  “Executioner!” she bellowed. “Prepare your sharpest blade.”

  She stomped up the stairs to Red's cell, grabbed the child, and took her back down to the executioner's room. "I want you to see what I am about to do," she said to the child, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness.

  A guard brought the hatchling into the room and placed it onto the same wooden slab that Marie was beheaded on.

  Red screamed and tried to run toward the creature.

  “Ah, ah, ah, you aren’t going anywhere. I was going to keep the gryphon for myself, but I think I’d rather watch you suffer and squirm, just like when your mommy, Marie, was on that same chopping block,” Blackheart whispered as she tightened her grip on Red. “Executioner, ready when you are.”

  “No, please don’t!” Red squirmed to get free.

  Blackheart tightly wrapped her arm around the girl and with her free hand held Red’s face in the direction of the executioner.

  The giant man nodded and lifted his blade into the air over the unsuspecting animal.

  “Now!” Blackheart shouted.

  The executioner shifted his weight forward into the swing of his blade.

  The animal jumped onto the floor and away from the blade just as it slammed into the wood. It scurried toward Blackheart and Red.

  “Yes!” Red screamed.

  Blackheart shoved Red aside, kicked her foot forward into the torso of the animal, and sent it flying across the room into a shadowy corner.

  Red stumbled away from Blackheart and fell to the ground. When she got up, she looked around for the gryphon.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Blackheart wrapped her hands around Red’s little arms and dragged her to the wooden slab.

  The executioner freed his blade from the wood and took a step back as Blackheart approached. He bowed his head slightly when Red looked at him.

  “I’ll deal with the animal later, let’s focus on the girl. Her time is up,” Blackheart said. “I’ll hold her down.” Blackheart forced Red over the slab and started to laugh. “This ends right now. Hurry up. I’ve been waiting for this.”

  The executioner slowly raised his blade.

  “Hold still, you little rat.” Blackheart pressed down on Red as hard as she could to keep her from squirming.

  What should have taken a few seconds seemed to drag out. The executioner stepped away from the slab and lowered his blade slowly.

  “What do you think you’re doing? Get over here and finish this.”

  The executioner shook his head.

  Blackheart released Red and ran to the large man. “What do you mean no?” Rage boiled within her. Caught in the moment, she was no longer frightened of him. She pushed, hit, and slapped at his large body.

  The executioner stood still until Blackheart gave up.

  Exhausted and defeated, she stumbled to the nearest wall and leaned against it to catch her breath. She called out to the guard who brought in the gryphon, “You there, take the animal back to the stables.”

  Blackheart ran her hand through her hair to free it from her sweaty face. She glared at the executioner. “Fine. Take the rat back to her cell. I’ll find someone who’s less of a coward.” Insulting the man made her feel comfortable enough to fix her dress and walk out of the room.

  * * *

  The executioner grabbed Red by her cloak, picked her up, and carried her back up the weathered stone stairs.

  “Thanks,” Red muttered. Though the executioner had just saved her life, he still scared her. She would much rather be back in her cell. She wouldn’t be alone in there with Auntie in the adjacent cell. When the executioner tossed Red into her cell, she dusted herself off and sat down.

  “I knew you’d be back,” Auntie said from her dark cell.

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” Auntie replied. “Like I said, you’re an amazing soul. Something surrounds you and protects you from Elzana Blackheart.”

  “Do you think she’ll try again?”

  Auntie laughed. “The fact that you’re mature enough to understand what’s happening is proof enough that you’re special, sweetheart. The question is, will
you be ready?”

  The two sat quietly in their dark cells.

  Auntie’s breathing eventually got louder. Soon, her snores kept Red from falling asleep. She spent her time looking out the small window and staring into the night sky. She thought about the nights she spent in the nursery and remembered to look for the star that signaled it was time to return to the West Wing. She waited but it didn’t appear. Surely by this time she would have seen the star.

  Red got up and moved around to try and catch a different angle of the sky. “Where is it?” She tripped over a loose stone in the floor. She picked up the stone and discovered a folded piece of worn paper underneath it.

  It was a photograph of everyone she had come to know as her family – her mother, her father, and her brother. Tears welled up in her eyes. Every one of them was gone now. She was alone.

  Red turned the picture around and saw her mom’s handwriting, but it was too dark in the cell to read what was written. She closed her eyes and got lost in memories of happier times. When she opened her eyes, a faint light beamed through the window. The star she had been waiting to see shined brighter than ever. It provided enough light to make out what was written on the back of the photograph:

  Be strong, my rose, my darling child

  Beautifully perfect with your smile

  Against the wind, the storms, the night

  You are the star, the shine, the light.

  Have nothing to fear we have each other

  In this dream and forever and ever

  It won’t be long until the sun will rise

  We’ll be together when you open your eyes.

  The nursery rhyme her mom used to sing. Her heart swelled as she read the poem. As soon as she was done, the starlight faded, leaving Red alone in the dark once again.

  CHAPTER 12

  Blackheart woke and, for a moment, forgot about her foiled attempt to rid herself of Red. Though it had been happening for years now, every morning when she woke, she was greeted with a routine that had once belonged to the queen. The queen’s ladies in waiting glided into her room and pulled back the curtains and bed covers, disrobed her, drew her bath, and prepped the towels and flowers. They replaced her bed sheets, laid out her breakfast, arranged her wardrobe, and dressed her.

  At least for a moment, she was queen.

  On this morning, however, before the women could apply makeup to Blackheart’s boney face, she said, “Wait.”

  The women stopped and looked at each other. One asked, “Did we do something wrong?”

  “I want to try something new. Something our queen does every day,” Blackheart said, her lips as grey as ice.

  “What’s that?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Blackheart said. “I want the sympathizer to apply my makeup.”

  The women exchanged glances with one another. Their eyes shifted back and forth.

  Blackheart laughed. “If the queen can have her bastard daughter run around the palace with her dirty hands touching the floors we walk on, then surely I can have a sympathizer apply my makeup.”

  The women stepped back and made enough room for Blackheart’s servant to pass through. She was standing in the corner of the room as she did every morning, trying her best to stay out of the way.

  “Are your hands clean?” Blackheart asked when the servant approached. “Of course not. I don’t even know why I asked.”

  The servant picked up the makeup brush and dabbed it with the white cosmetic concoction. She carefully applied the makeup over Blackheart’s dry skin. She started with the hands, brightening Blackheart’s skin up to her wrists and concealing the calluses underneath her lanky fingers.

  When the servant was done, Blackheart extended her arms and inspected her freshly painted hands before nodding. She then pulled down the sleeves of her dress and leaned forward so that her face could be worked on.

  The servant gulped. She applied a few dabs of makeup and tried her best to keep her hands steady.

  After a few wipes of the brush, Blackheart pulled away. “Are your forgetting something?”

  The servant clasped her trembling hands together. She looked at the brush and then at the other women. Her face quickly flushed as she lowered her gaze and remained silent.

  “You forgot to put more makeup on the brush.” Blackheart raised her arm to strike the servant.

  The servant braced herself and shut her eyes.

  Slowly Blackheart lowered her arm and stunned everyone. She looked around. The women were unable to conceal their wide-eyed expressions as they exchanged glances.

  Blackheart leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. She said to the servant, “Just stop what you’re doing and stand back in the corner until your shift is over.”

  It was the kindest thing she had ever done. As the servant returned back to the corner, Blackheart pointed to one of the other women and in her usual nasty tone ordered her to finish.

  Once dressed and ready for the day, Blackheart strode to the stables with Zane and another guard. She was eager to check in on the gryphon and test whether it truly had mythical properties.

  “You there!” she yelled. “Hurry up and finish picking that up. You, with the hair.” She pointed.

  Everyone turned and looked.

  “In the back,” Blackheart said, “pick this pitchfork up off the floor. Where is the foreman?” She turned to her guards and in a tone loud enough so that everyone could hear, said, “I swear this place would fall apart without me.”

  The stable foreman ran as fast as he could to greet Blackheart. “Your Grace, Your Grace,” he said as he stumbled over old equipment and crates and maneuvered around the other workers.

  “There you are, Foreman,” Blackheart said.

  He bowed. “Your Grace, how can I be of service?”

  “I’m here for the animal. You know that,” Blackheart replied.

  “Yes, Your Grace. It’s in the back, chained, just as you instructed.”

  “Are you certain about that?” Blackheart asked with an unforgiving grin.

  “I’m most certain, Your Grace. I did it myself.”

  Blackheart turned to the guards and smiled. She looked back at the foreman and said, “Well then, I’m sure we’ll find it just as you left it. If not, I’ll have your testicles mounted on my wall. How about that?”

  Blackheart and her guards walked to the back of the stable. The foreman followed. She stopped outside the room where the gryphon was kept. “I’m waiting,” she said.

  “Yes, of course.” The foreman scurried to the front of the group and opened the large doors. “How can this be?” He groaned while holding the doors firmly in place without letting anyone pass.

  Blackheart pushed the foreman through the doorway and followed him into the room. The gryphon had outgrown and busted through the chains. It backed away from the door when everyone entered.

  Blackheart was well aware that the gryphon would grow. She had expected to find the animal exactly the way they found it. But that didn’t stop her from playing her cat and mouse game with the foreman.

  “Guards,” she said, “seize the foreman.” The two guards grabbed the foreman and forced him to his knees.

  Blackheart, like a snake, slithered toward him. “I thought you said it would be in chains, my dear foreman. Is that how we found it?”

  “No .. . . no, ma’am,” the foreman stuttered.

  Blackheart pulled a small dagger from beneath her dress ruffles. It was as ornate as the dress she wore and gleamed in the light that poured in through the skylight above them.

  Sweat beaded down the foreman’s face as Blackheart gently slid the tip of her dagger down his chest to his crotch. She stared deep into the foreman’s hazel eyes and smiled. “What do you have to say now, Foreman? Was the animal in chains?”

  She laughed and pulled the dagger away. She then walked to the gryphon and knelt. The animal crouched and emitted a long, low-pitched guttural sound.

  She gently r
ubbed its soft belly with her fingertips. “You have to do this very carefully. You can’t just do this anywhere.” Then, quickly, Blackheart slashed the gryphon’s belly with her dagger.

  The beast let out a high-pitched piercing cry as it jumped up and ran to a corner of the room. “Now, let’s see if you’re worth keeping.” Blackheart stared at the blade and looked for a noticeable change in the metal. She anxiously waited for the metal to glow or do something, anything, to confirm that the gryphon’s blood was indeed magical.

  Nothing happened.

  “Damn this beast! Damn it!” She ordered the guards to get rid of the animal. Just as she was turning to leave the room, Blackheart felt the dagger heat up in her hand. It was glowing. In a matter of seconds, the blood that remained disappeared into the blade.

  Blackheart’s heart pounded. She took a deep breath to calm herself and ease the light-headed feeling in her head. She gently kissed the blade with her lips. If the folklore was true, then her blade was now stronger and sharper than most.

  Blackheart leaned toward the foreman so that her face was inches away from his. “My dear Foreman, next time you insist that you did something, please make sure that you actually do it.”

  “Yes, ma’am .. . . I mean, Your Grace,” the foreman stuttered.

  “Because I don’t like liars.” Blackheart shoved the dagger through the foreman’s chest. She smiled as the blade effortlessly pierced through the man’s flesh and bone.

  His body slumped to the floor as blood poured out of his mouth and the gaping wound from Blackheart’s dagger. After a few convulsions, his body lay lifeless on the ground.

  “Ugh,” Blackheart said. “What a stupid pig.” Three drops of the foreman’s blood had marked her shoe. She licked her thumb and was about to reach down to wipe it off but instead ordered Zane to do it. “Do me the favor. Would you, dear?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Zane replied. When his overgrown mustache wasn’t in his mouth, the man could barely speak. But, as ordered, he quickly dropped to his knees and cleaned the tip of Blackheart’s shoe with his saliva.

  “Oh, you’re such a sweetie,” Blackheart said. The sound of her voice oozed pleasure as Zane dribbled over her foot. She closed her eyes and leaned back, enjoying herself until her toes got wet. “That’s enough.” She giggled. “I said enough, you dog.” She kicked Zane away from her. “I swear, Zane. You’re a beast.”