The Widow’s Curse

by Lucas Flores

  The soldiers escorted Red from the queen’s bedroom to her room in the West Wing and closed the door behind her once she was inside. However, the sound of their armor settling just outside her door was a clear sign that she wouldn’t be going anywhere else tonight.

  Red took solace in the notion that her room in the West Wing, while something of a prison, was now a fortress with protection – for tonight, at least. Would this really be her last night in the palace?

  She didn’t have too much to pack. “Just me and my friends, my dolls,” she said as she neatly laid them out in front of her. As the night passed, she tried to get as much rest as she could, but it was difficult. A faint rustling sound kept her awake. Frustrated, she got up and looked around her room. She didn't see or notice anything different or unusual.

  She returned to her bed and lay down. She closed her eyes and forced herself to get some sleep, but the rustling sound grew louder. When she opened her eyes, she saw all six of her dolls sitting in front of her face.

  “Oh please, just let me sleep,” she begged.

  The dolls crawled around on the bed, pulled a cover up over her body, and gently tucked it in around her.

  Astonished, Red closed her eyes briefly and listened. Uncertain as to whether this was another of the dolls’ games, she opened her eyes. To her surprise, the dolls were again laid out where she originally placed them. Red closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 14

  The next morning, before dawn’s break, Blackheart was already awake and getting dressed in her room. It was far too early for anyone to assist her, but she managed. Too stubborn to light more than one candle on her own, she fumbled in the near darkness and tripped over furniture and other decorative pieces that littered her room.

  “Hmmm,” she said as she eyed herself in the mirror. The candlelight softened her strong facial features. She was barely presentable, especially by her standards, but it didn’t matter. She had a long morning ahead of her and needed to get moving. She draped a riding cloak over her brawny shoulders, clipped a bow onto her hair, and patted down the front of her dress to work out the folds and wrinkles. When finally ready, she rushed to the West Wing.

  The lamp she carried cast menacing shadows that seemed to follow her through the palace. But that didn’t bother her. All she worried about was whether Zane would be ready and waiting outside.

  The ghostly clicking of Blackheart’s heels against the marble floor echoed in and out of the empty rooms as she drew closer to the West Wing. Adrenaline and anxiety flowed through her veins. She had been waiting for this long-anticipated day, the day she would take the crown away from her cousin. She envisioned herself sitting on a throne in one of the palace’s interior rooms with her royal court adoring her every word. She could almost hear the royal orchestra and choir playing and singing to her coronation ceremony. She even saw herself wearing her cousin’s crown.

  She continued on, lost in her own world, until she bumped into one of the soldiers standing guard outside Red’s bedroom. Startled, she quickly snapped out of her daydream. “What are you doing here?”

  The two soldiers crossed their spears, forming an X between Blackheart and the door. “Out of my way.” She tried pushing herself through the soldiers, but they maintained their positions like stone pillars. “Damn you,” she said as she struggled to worm her way through. After a few minutes, she calmed down. Rather than enter the room, she leaned in and knocked on the door. Lucky for her, her arms were long enough to reach.

  “Hurry up and get ready in there! I’ll only give you a minute. Do you hear me?”

  When the door opened, the soldiers stepped aside.

  “That’s much better,” Blackheart said. As she walked inside, her lamp extinguished and the room became almost completely dark. Only a small amount of light came in from the hallway, so she couldn’t clearly make out what was in front of her. She cautiously walked to the bed and realized that Red was still in it. All she could see was a lump curled up under an old, tattered blanket.

  “Well, if you’re in bed, then who opened the door?” she asked and glanced behind her. Her eyes adjusted. No one else was in the room. “Wake up, girl.” She poked at the cover.

  No response or movement. “I said wake up.” Again, nothing happened.

  By the third time, Blackheart was ready to drag Red out of bed. “Dammit, girl!” she shouted again. She reached over and pulled the covers aside. “I said wake . . .”

  Blackheart erupted in screams and nearly collapsed in shock. Lying on the bed were six doll heads evenly spaced around her own headless body. With their gleaming smiles faced up at her, the heads chanted, “Off with her head,” over and over again.

  “No!”

  “Off with her head,” the dolls sang.

  “No, how can this be?” Blackheart fell to the floor as the heads jumped off the bed and danced around her. She could feel warm blood pour down the front of her body. “Where is it coming from, my neck?”

  She gripped her hands around her neck to try and stop the bleeding. Blood poured through her fingers, down her arms and body, and onto the floor. She screamed and looked up, away from the pool of blood beneath her.

  “Get up,” a small voice said.

  Red’s voice. And just like that, Blackheart’s vision disappeared. She found herself on the floor with her hands tightly gripped around her neck.

  “What .. . . what was that?” Blackheart asked. She looked around for the dolls’ heads. When she got up off the floor, she saw them sitting on Red’s bed. “Ah, those. Those heads, what are they?” She stepped back.

  “They’re nothing,” Red said. “Just my dolls.”

  “Like hell they’re just dolls.”

  Red grabbed a head and showed her that there was nothing to be afraid of. “They’re just dolls.”

  Blackheart reached out. “I want to see for myself that these heads are just toys and nothing more.”

  Red handed her the head.

  Blackheart threw it down against the floor. It broke into several pieces.

  “What are you doing?” Red shouted.

  Blackheart crushed the largest pieces with her foot. She then pushed Red aside and threw the rest of the heads onto the floor. Ceramic pieces flew everywhere. Red tried to stop her, but there was nothing she could do.

  When all the heads were reduced to broken pieces and dust, Red kneeled on the floor and tried to put some of them back together. “Why did you do that?” She sobbed. “They were my friends. I hate you!” she shouted.

  A little out of breath, Blackheart calmed herself. “Good. I hate you too. Now quit being such a child. You have one minute to gather your things before I drag you out of here. Do you understand?”

  Red looked up at her cloak and a couple of changes of clothes on her bed, then back at the remnants of the dolls’ heads. “I’m ready now then,” she said in a bolder tone as she angrily wiped away her tears and stood up.

  Blackheart looked down at the rosy-cheeked girl and saw a little bit of herself. “Good. Your escorts are waiting outside,” she said before pushing Red out of her way.

  Red grabbed her bag of clothes and followed Blackheart.

  Certain that everything was ready, Blackheart led Red outside. A small company waited next to a carriage. The chauffeur stood near the horses while several armed guards waited behind the vehicle. All wore riding helmets to hide their faces.

  “You’re leaving the same way you arrived. Unwanted. Now get in and shut up. It’s almost over,” Blackheart said as she opened the carriage door.

  Red climbed into the coach and took a seat. She propped up her bag of clothes and used it as a pillow to lay her head. Blackheart slammed the door closed.

  As the carriage pulled away, twilight peeked up over the horizon and the morning bells rang.

  * * *

  Later that morning, Red stared off into the tree-stump wasteland that used to be the forest. Sun-drenched hills that rolled forever into the horizon f
illed the landscape. The cloudless blue sky offered no shade to shelter the chauffeur or guards who all rode in full uniform and helmet.

  While dozing off, Red heard the chauffeur shout, “Well, what are you waiting for, boys?” She peered out the front window. Was that Zane’s voice? She caught a glimpse of his thick mustache as he removed his helmet.

  He groaned a sigh of relief as the air hit his sweaty face.

  Red bounced from window to window.

  The other men quickly took off their helmets. Blackheart’s guards! She recognized them as the same men who tried attacking her in the cell!

  One of the men rode his horse to the front alongside Zane. “Why don’t we finish her off now?”

  “Because,” Zane replied, “We don’t want anyone to see us.”

  “Well, we haven't seen anyone for hours.”

  Zane reached over and smacked the guard on the back of his head. “Who’s leading this group? Shut up and return to your post."

  The guard pulled away and resumed his place behind the carriage.

  Zane kept his gaze forward and periodically grunted.

  As the company approached a fork in the road, Zane pulled the horses back and stopped the carriage. “We’ll stop here!” He jumped off the front of the carriage and walked around to the side of the coach.

  As soon as the door opened, Red leapt out and slid through Zane’s outstretched hands. The other men were already off their horses. They quickly surrounded Red and blocked her attempt to escape.

  “It’s about time,” one of the guards grunted. “Get on with it.”

  Zane rolled up his sleeves.

  One of the guards stormed into the middle of the ring and grabbed Red. He threw his sword at Zane’s feet. “Hurry up, Zane, finish her. Finish her or we will.”

  Instead of reaching down to pick up the sword, Zane kicked it away. “I don’t need that. I’ll make this quick and clean.”

  Red tried to free herself from the guard’s grip but failed.

  The other guards laughed. “Look at her!” one shouted. “Finish the poor thing! Snap her neck and be done with it!”

  “Quiet!” Zane yelled.

  The guard holding Red pushed the girl forward and backed away from her. His face turned pale and his body cowered.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Zane ran over and picked Red up by her hair. “She’ll get away!”

  “Zane,” the guard said. “You don’t understand. There’s something inside of her.”

  Zane let go of Red and pushed her down. “What are you talking about?”

  “The girl!” the guard shouted. “She has two heartbeats!”

  The other guards fell silent. “Two heartbeats?” one whispered to another. They hesitated to say or do anything more and looked to Zane for a response.

  “What are you talking about?” Zane took a couple of steps and kicked Red in the stomach.

  Red lay on the ground, curled on her side.

  “Yeah, look at her,” another guard said as the rest stared in shock. “How is it that she’s not in pain? She’s not crying or screaming. What’s wrong with her?”

  “She may not cry, but let’s see if she bleeds.” Zane picked up the sword. He pointed it at Red and said, “Look at me.”

  She remained curled in a ball on the ground with her eyes shut.

  “Look at me, dammit!” Zane kicked her in the face with such force that her tiny body flipped over onto her back. Zane then walked to Red’s still body and knelt beside her. He placed his hand on her chest and gasped.

  "What are you doing, boss?" one of the men asked.

  "I felt it,” he said. “Just for a moment, it was there. Two heartbeats, but now .. . . now there's just one."

  As soon as the words rolled off his tongue, Red's eyes popped open. Zane jumped up and stumbled away from her. "What the . . ." Zane’s bushy eyebrows rose. He aimed his sword at her. "Stand up!"

  Red frantically backed away from the tip of his blade. Zane lunged toward her and ran his blade over her arm. A thin line of blood appeared on the surface of her skin. He turned to the guards. "Look at that, boys. Blood. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

  Zane and his men closed in on Red. The one nearest to her took a step forward and pushed her toward Zane. She stumbled and fell to the ground, scraping open her wound. Blood trickled down and dripped off her arm. As each drop landed on the ground, an immense tremble reverberated from beneath them. The shockwaves were intense, but short-lived.

  * * *

  By midday in the palace, the queen was still lying in bed, unable to move. She had been awake for several hours and tried to get up, but couldn’t even twitch a finger or a toe. Now that she had regained her ability to feel and to have full control over what was left of her body, she was keenly aware of her deteriorated condition. Every bone ached and the weight of her body was almost too much for her to stand. All morning long, she cried out for help but no one came to her.

  Finally, the queen heard the low creak of her bedroom door as it opened. She desperately called out, “Hello? Hello? Help me up.”

  Blackheart walked up to the bed.

  Unable to move her body, the queen shifted her gaze toward her cousin.

  “You’ve always needed my help.” Blackheart said.

  “Help me up,” the queen repeated.

  “What’s wrong, Your Highness? Having trouble getting up? Did your body finally give out on you?" She paused and leaned over the queen's face. "Well, I’m through helping you.”

  “What? This is no time for games, Elzana. Where are my soldiers? Why aren’t you helping me?”

  “Oh, didn’t you hear? They’re gone, dead!”

  “Oh please, Elzana. We both know that’s impossible.”

  “It happened shortly after your bastard daughter left. When I walked back into the palace, I found them all lying flat on the floor, completely lifeless.”

  “Stop playing around and help me up already.”

  “No.” Blackheart jumped on the bed, reached across the queen, and grabbed the scepter away from her. “Now you listen to me, you old crone. They’re gone and you’re next.”

  “What do you think you're doing? Elzana, give that back!”

  She waved the scepter in the air. “What? You mean this old thing?”

  “Listen to me, Elzana. You don’t know what that’ll do to you. Put that down.”

  “I know exactly what this will do. With this, I can wake your army and control the fate of this stupid little world.”

  The queen tightly closed her eyes while trying to move. “You’re wrong, Elzana!”

  “What do you know? You’re just the mother of a girl that’s no better than a dirty leper, the bane of my existence that has kept this kingdom in the dark for far too long. It’s time, my dear cousin.” Blackheart pulled out her dagger and held it above the queen's face. “It's time to end this, now, once and for all.”

  “Do me the favor, Elzana.”

  As Blackheart playfully slid the blade down the side of the queen’s cheek, one of the palace guards stormed into the room in a panic.

  “Your Grace,” the guard said.

  “What do you want?” Blackheart screamed.

  “Come quickly,” the guard said, “it’s the gryphon!”

  She dropped her dagger and whispered into the queen’s ear, “I’ll finish this later.”

  “No, wait. End me now, Elzana,” the queen begged. “If you love me, you’ll kill me now!” she screamed as Blackheart’s footsteps faded away.

  Alone again, the queen closed her eyes and lay in complete silence. When she opened them again, she saw flashes of something else. For a split second, it appeared as if she were no longer in her bedroom, but instead, outside surrounded by Zane and his guards.

  The sound of two heartbeats echoed in her ears.

  The queen blinked. She was back in her bedroom, still lying on her bed. Then, without warning, she flew off her bed and landed on the floor as if an invisible f
orce pushed her. She screamed in agony. She planted her hands on the ground, to push herself up. “Is that dirt?” she whispered. She looked around. She was still in her bedroom, but the floor beneath her felt like warm earth from outside.

  Something grabbed the queen by her hair and lifted her up off the floor as her consciousness jumped back and forth between realities. She screamed and caught one last flash of Zane’s face before being thrown on her side.

  A sharp, intense pain struck the queen in the stomach. She gasped for air and coughed up blood. Then, she was kicked back. A trail of blood flew through the air as her body, neck, and head twisted. She flipped off of her side and landed flat on her back.

  The queen’s broken body finally started to shut down. First she lost all feeling in her feet. The numbness spread up her legs, into her torso, and extended to her arms and hands. The only thing she could feel was blood as it poured out of her mouth. Her blank stare into nothingness grew darker and her breathing grew softer.

  The sound of the two heartbeats slowly disappeared.

  Feelings of guilt and regret, consequences of her greatest mistakes, were all washed away. Her time had come.

  A voice called out to her.

  “Get up, Rosaline,” it said. “It’s time to come back home.”

  Tears of relief streamed down her cheeks as she smiled and exhaled her final breath. With a gentle pull, she rose up. Now detached from this life, Rosaline looked down and saw herself as the world around her faded away.

  * * *

  Before going downstairs and tending to the gryphon, Blackheart stood outside the queen’s room and enjoyed the sound of her cries for help. It was the beginning of the end, birth pangs that would bring forth a new queen.

  When Blackheart entered the back room in the stable, the gryphon stirred and stretched. Like a large cat, he leaned back and extended his front legs and then leaned forward and stretched his hind legs.