Cursed: Briar Rose's Story (Destined Book 6)

by Kaylin Lee

  The group entered the kitchen, first Chloe and Professor Kristof, then a red-haired woman—Ruby—beside a muscular, dark-haired man, and finally, a thin girl in wire-framed glasses trailed behind them.

  “Lucien! I didn’t know you were in Asylia,” Dad said, greeting Lucien with a handshake. “Were you here during the storm?”

  “We arrived yesterday,” the man said quietly. “The Praetor sent us to give a report to Prince Estevan, and we wanted to make sure Ruby’s grandmother was well.”

  “How is Mistress Contos?” Dad asked.

  “She’s fine,” Ruby said warmly. “We’re grateful the Herald’s offices were so sturdily built. They were able to shelter dozens of others from the Common Quarter as well.”

  Mom tugged the end of her braid, her brows furrowed. “Draicia was hit badly, wasn’t it?”

  The red-haired woman glanced behind her to the girl, then met Mom’s gaze. “There are many survivors, thankfully. But many did not find shelter in time, and many were past saving when the storm ended.”

  The bespectacled girl scowled. “Many slum-dwellers, you mean. The clan-born survived just fine in their big, thick stone villas.”

  Chloe looked up from pouring glasses of chrysos on a tray, her expression dark. “Astrid … are you saying the clans didn’t take in those without shelter?”

  “Some clans did.” Lucien met his cousin’s eyes but reached a hand to his red-haired wife and pulled her closer to his side, as though reassuring himself that she was still there. “Not enough, though.”

  “It’s Victory Day,” Dad said gruffly, taking the glasses of chrysos Chloe had poured and handing them out. “We won, and those monsters in the Badlands are gone for good. That’s worth celebrating, isn’t it?”

  Ruby nodded and smiled at him, her warm, sunny disposition breaking the cold pall that had fallen on the room. “It is. Of course, it is.” She locked her free hand with Lucien’s, then raised her glass. “To clear skies and a new future.”

  Chapter 45

  By the time the sun had fully set, it seemed as if all Asylia was in our villa to celebrate Victory Day, including Prince Estevan and Princess Belle, sporting the least convincing disguises I’d ever seen. Kaia and Cole and their three, brown-eyed little ones had arrived with the royal couple. A large group of unattached Sentinels, looking uncomfortable in clean-pressed street clothes, came not long after, descending upon Ella’s cooking like muscular, tattooed wolves.

  As the noise of children giggling and men talking filled the villa, I lost sight of Tavar and found myself in the front hallway, eating cake with Deacon, Corbin, and Eugene.

  “Have you noticed how many guys are at this victory party?” Deacon said around a large bite of pink-frosted cake.

  “I think it's because Corbin told everyone that Bri is friendly now. They want to see for themselves.” Eugene tossed back the last of his glass of chrysos, then belched. “Not sure why they would care about that,” he added, wrinkling his brow. “And I don’t appreciate having to share this spread with so many guys. They’re going to eat it all if we’re not careful. Whose birthday is it, anyway?”

  Deacon gave Eugene a cool look, shook his head, and turned to Corbin. “Alba’s taken. Bri’s taken. Let’s go find a victory party with some unattached ladies, unless you’re a glutton for rejection like the rest of these boulder-heads.”

  Corbin chuckled awkwardly, then paused. “Wait. Bri, are you taken?”

  “Taken?”

  “Yes.” Eugene rolled his eyes. “She’s been taken for a while, guys. Keep up.”

  Deacon scratched his eyebrow. “You know, if you were mine, I wouldn’t let you stand alone in the hallway while another Sentinel asked if you were taken.”

  “She’s not yours, which is why you’re not the one standing next to her dad and politely listening to stories of his glory days as a spy for King Anton.” Eugene gestured toward Tavar, who was on the far side of the parlor behind me, nodding dutifully next to Dad as my father gestured wildly with his hands, clearly excited about whatever story he was telling.

  Deacon followed Eugene’s gaze, then laughed. “True.” He winked at me. “I’d listen to the commander’s stories for you, Briar Rose.”

  “So would I.” Corbin’s jaw tightened. “But like he said, she’s taken.”

  “I suppose she hasn’t said it yet,” Eugene said, nodding to me. “We’re just talking about her instead of asking her, but she’s right there.”

  “Right. Just say it, then.” Deacon waved a hand to me. “C’mon, Bri. Put us out of our misery. Are you, or aren’t you?”

  I had to hold back a laugh at his pleading expression. “We haven’t spoken much since we returned to the city, but …” I glanced over my shoulder at Tavar, then turned back. Might as well respond to Deacon’s directness with my own. “Taken barely covers it. My heart is completely his.”

  “Fortunate man.” Deacon rolled his shoulders, a rueful smile flashing across his face before he glanced away. “I’m off, then. Corbin? There are about a thousand victory parties currently filling the city. Shall we go find one with pretty, unattached girls in attendance?”

  “No.” Corbin poked his cake with his fork. “I need to talk to Bri.”

  Deacon waved to my dad, then set off, drawing a few other Sentinels with him as he left the villa.

  I raised an eyebrow at Corbin. “What is it?”

  “Well …” His forehead wrinkled. “What did you mean, you and Tavar haven’t spoken since we got back? What has he been doing for three days?”

  “Helping his neighbors rebuild from the storm. The tenement was nearly destroyed.”

  Corbin nodded slowly. “Oh.”

  “Was that all?”

  “No.” Eugene nudged Corbin. “Stop beating around the bush and just ask her.”

  Was he serious? Hadn’t I just told them I was taken? “I said Tavar and I are—”

  “Are you well, Bri? Truly well?”

  “What?” I blinked at him.

  Eugene rolled his eyes. “You heard him.”

  Corbin nodded. “Are you?”

  “That’s what you wanted to talk about?” I folded my arms across my stomach, the lacy fabric of my dress soft on my inner arms. “We won, didn’t we? Of course I’m well.” I tried to hold his gaze but quickly found myself looking away.

  Corbin smiled slightly. “You know, just because you only had one friend for the last few years, doesn’t mean we don’t care about you, too.”

  “That’s right,” said Eugene around a mouthful of cake. “We almost died trying to break you out of that crater. You haven’t even said thank you.”

  “Oh! Well … thank you.” I lifted one shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was a bit overwhelmed at the palace, with the storm, and being free from the curse after so long. I didn’t even think—"

  “I’m joking.” Eugene snorted loudly and slapped me on the back. “You should have seen your face.”

  Corbin set a hand on my shoulder, his smile widening into a grin. “But we do care about you. If you need anything—anything—you let us know. We’re your friends, too, just like Tavar.”

  I couldn’t let that go uncorrected. “Well, not just like Tavar.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Friends, though.”

  “Fine.” I managed to hold back most of my smile. “Friends. Thank you for everything.” The urge to smile faded as I recalled our mad rush from the crater, Elektra shrieking threats from the palace as Tavar carried me toward the rocky tunnel out. “I can’t quite believe it’s over.”

  “Me either.” Corbin licked frosting from his fork. He looked tired. Tired and less cocky than usual. The eruption of magic from Mount Vellus had healed many things, but perhaps some injuries went deeper than magic could reach.

  “What's next, then? If we’re done with the Masters?”

  “The cities are going to settle the Badlands.” Eugene ate the last bite of his cake, then wiped his frosting-covered fingers on his short-sleeved, button
-down shirt, earning a reproachful look from Corbin. “Sentinels will help keep the peace between the farmers and keep the bandits from making it impossible to build out there.”

  Corbin squinted, his gaze growing distant. “Hard to imagine the Badlands as farmland.”

  “Heard it used to be. Or so the legends say.” Eugene shrugged. “This much magic in the air, anything could happen.”

  “Keep the peace, huh?” I nudged Corbin, drawing him out of wherever he’d gone in his thoughts. “Is that what you want to do?”

  He laughed hollowly, his eyes crinkling, then shook his head. “I need a break,” he said after a minute, the tightness in his shoulders easing. “After that … maybe.” He shrugged. “Or maybe I’ll be the one with the farm. You’ll protect me, right, Eugene?”

  Eugene snorted. “Right. One of the best Sentinels of our class is going to become a farmer.”

  “Like you said.” Corbin reached out to the gold magic shifting through the air between us and trailed his hand through it, leaving curly wisps of gold in its wake. “Anything could happen.”

  Eugene and Corbin headed back into the kitchen to load their plates with more food, and a moment later, Tavar found me.

  He put a full glass of chrysos into my hand and smiled wryly. “I think I heard enough stories about the good old days in the Sentinels to last me a while. How were Eugene and Corbin? Extremely obnoxious, or only somewhat?”

  I pulled my braid over my shoulder and twisted my fingers in the end. “They were … nice, actually.”

  “You hesitated.”

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting them to be nice. And they weren’t completely nice.”

  Tavar put his arm over my shoulders, pulled me close to him, and kissed the top of my head. “Which one will I be fighting? Ah, it’s fine. I’ll just fight both.”

  “Fighting! No—”

  “Just tell me which one asked to court you.”

  “Neither …”

  He pulled back, enough to look me in the face, his brows wrinkled. “Neither? I find that hard to believe. Corbin looked far too determined when he walked over here. Wait—I saw Deacon come this way, too, didn’t I?”

  I shrugged, enjoying the intensity of his gaze on my face. “They did want to know if I was taken.”

  “What did you say?”

  I rose up on my toes and kissed him right on the freckle at the corner of his mouth, sending a tingle of satisfaction through me. I drew back and shivered. “Guess.”

  His eyes stayed closed for a moment, and when he opened them, his lids were heavy. “What were we talking about?”

  I took his hand and toyed with his fingers, brushing them across my palm. “Eugene and Corbin.”

  “Eugene and Corbin.”

  “They just wanted to make sure that I was well. And …” I pursed my lips. “They reminded me that I never thanked them for rescuing me from the crater.”

  “Ah.” Tavar leaned back on his heels and glanced around the room. “So I get to punch both of them after all.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m obviously the one who rescued you.” He rolled his eyes. “You were stuck to the bed! All they did was run around and yell things, maybe shoot a few bolts. I broke your curse and carried you to Alba. They were just support.”

  I snorted. “Fine. Just not tonight. It’s Victory Day, after all. We’re supposed to be celebrating, not fighting. And if you start a fight in here, you’ll get food all over the parlor.”

  “Your parents wouldn’t like that, would they?”

  “Probably not.”

  We were quiet for a moment, our hands clasped as we sipped chrysos, each unable to look away from the other.

  “I like your dress,” Tavar said at last, looking me over with a grin.

  “Oh.” I released his hand and patted my skirt. “It’s mage-craft, you know,” I said, surprising myself by pretending to preen.

  “What? Briar Rose, the city’s fiercest, mage-fighting Sentinel, is wearing a mage-craft dress? I don’t believe it.”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “And it’s brilliant. Instead of using magic to make the skirts flutter, the dressmaker put the magic in to keep it neat.” I handed him my glass of chrysos and stepped back, then feigned a kick and a punch, drawing laughter from the Sentinels in the parlor nearby. The skirt slid right back into place when I stopped. “I could fight bandits like this.”

  “Wow.” Tavar wiggled his eyebrows. “Not saying I wouldn’t love the … ah … fluttery kind of skirt, but that was impressive.” He scratched the side of his face, his laughing tone fading slightly. “But do you want to? Fight bandits, that is?”

  “No.” I swallowed. “I don’t know. Probably not. You?”

  “I don’t want to sound ungrateful for winning, but I can’t imagine it.” He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find Ella and Alba, grinning remorselessly as they pulled me away from Tavar.

  “This romantic interlude is over, young lovers,” Alba sang. “The ladies are gathering in the kitchen, and we want to toast Bri.”

  “We want to toast both of you,” Ella said, linking arms with my sister and me and leading us toward the kitchen. “Or maybe toast all of us.”

  Chapter 46

  Even though the window by the sink was open to the evening air, the kitchen was hot. Mom and Ella bustled at the kitchen counter, moving savory meat pastries fresh from the oven onto serving platters. Chloe leaned against the kitchen counter by the open window, fanning herself and sipping chrysos, and I sat with Ruby, Belle, and Alba at the table.

  The toasts had been fun—silly, even—and though I missed Tavar’s steady presence, I was enjoying the comforting quiet of my mother, sisters, and friends in the kitchen.

  “Don’t you think that’s odd?” Alba sounded more serious than usual.

  “Hmm?” I dug through the pile of crumbs on my cake plate to find more frosting.

  “Everyone who was hurt in the storm was healed during the eruption.”

  “Not just those hurt during the storm,” Belle added. “Kaia told me Cole had scars from a curse he ran into a few years ago, and even those disappeared during the eruption.”

  “Exactly.” Alba tapped her fingers on the table. “It’s odd.”

  “Why?” Ruby snagged a pastry from the tray before Mom handed it off to Dad, who stood just inside the parlor with his hands out. “There’s more magic in the air than our land has seen in centuries,” she said, blowing on the hot pastry. “Seems like healing would result naturally—”

  “The appearance of magic doesn’t simply heal an injury.” My twin sister shook her head. “It takes a skilled mage. Someone who has been trained in the art of healing, who understands both the body and the injury.”

  Chloe joined us at the table, then set her drink down and studied the wood grain of the kitchen table with a strange intensity, her expression unnaturally neutral.

  “Chloe …” Ella set a new tray of pastries in the oven, closed the oven door, and placed the heating stone on top to activate its magic, then sank into a chair and rubbed her back. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  “I’m just a researcher.” Chloe inspected her nails studiously. “A simple academic.”

  “Me, too.” Mom raised her glass of chrysos and clinked it with Chloe’s, then took the chair beside Ella and crossed her ankles. “To scholarly pursuits.”

  Ella raised her glass of chrysos. “To Chloe!”

  “To Chloe,” we echoed.

  “We love your brilliant, academically-gifted mind, Chloe.” Belle held a hand over her heart in a salute. “But I do want to know how you use the knowledge of Kireth alchemy hiding inside it.”

  I sipped my glass and studied my mother’s face. Her skin was perfect and smooth now, so flawless I wondered if I had imagined the scars and burns that had covered her when she embraced me in the forest.

  “You gave it instructions, didn’t you?
” I nodded as Chloe shifted uncomfortably at my words. “In the acceleration curse, you sent instructions to the magic the storm would be stealing from the Masters.”

  “Instructions?” Chloe tapped her fingers on the table. “Oh, perhaps a bit of guidance.”

  “You can’t give detailed instructions encompassing a continent’s worth of magic and people.” Belle rubbed her temples. “Can you? Do we even want to know what you’re capable of?”

  “She’s just an academic.” Mom smirked.

  “I had a theory.” Chloe straightened. “From my academic research, we know that the Kireth homeland and the continent of Theros are the only two places in the world with an excess of magic in the air and land. The Kireths drained all of the magic from their own land, then came here, and the alchemists, led by Death’s Master, began to drain the magic from Theros, too, bottling it as curses.” She shrugged. “I’d been wondering what the magic itself wanted.”

  “Does magic want anything?” Alba wrinkled her forehead. “Doesn’t it just … do what we tell it to do?”

  “It fills me to bursting every day, whether I want it to or not.” Chloe nodded to our mother. “And though it drains out of Zel even faster than it fills me, it always tries to fill her again. That’s how her Touch works.”

  “So it wants things.” Ruby rubbed her upper arms. “It chooses?”

  “Maybe not consciously, not the way that we mean it. But it does seem to want a connection to us, doesn’t it? It wants me to be filled, and Zel, too, though she can’t hold it. And I thought, perhaps it wants something for everyone, not just us mages.”

  “For everyone.” Mom sat up straighter, her expression thoughtful. “Because it’s in everyone, isn’t it?”

  “Exactly,” Chloe said. “Magic is natural. A force as necessary and widespread as water or air. Mages may carry more magic than a regular person, and we’re able to control that excess with our will, but the substance itself is in everyone. The great equalizer.”

  “Right.” Ruby nodded slowly. “Connecting everyone, no matter who they are. Sustaining every life, no matter how weak or strong, good or evil.”