The Hundred Year Curse

by A. K. Koonce

  He lifts a strand of my dark hair, gingerly pushing it away from my eyes. “Wanna... walk in the garden?” he asks with a wink. “Just talking this time, promise.”

  Cormac’s promise sounds light, like he gives them away without much thought or meaning.

  With another groan, I finally answer, “It's not sunny or warm enough outside to stroll through the gardens.”

  “Oh,” he jumps up, “I can help with that.”

  Cormac grabs the doors to my balcony. He dramatically swings them open, shooting me a wicked smile over his shoulder. His eyes light up in an unworldly glow as he walks out to face the gloomy day.

  Curiosity spikes through me, pulling me up out of bed. My toes touch the cold floors and my emerald nightgown drops, gently rubbing along my thighs.

  As he stands, he looks up at the clouds cloaking the sun and they… they disappear. Each fluffy piece quickly dissolves, leaving behind a beautiful day. The weather bends at his mercy… He can control the weather? Warmth spreads across my chest reminding me of my lack of modesty.

  Cormac turns back towards me, his grin turning wolfish and hungry as he sees me. I flush and bring my arms up, folding them across my chest to cover myself.

  “Anything else I should know about your… abilities?” My finger taps against my arm.

  He smirks and I can tell he’s word playing the term abilities into something dirty in his mind.

  “Do you mind stepping out so I can dress for the day?” I ask quickly before he can say anything.

  He runs his tongue over his lips before speaking, “Can't I just turn around and we both pretend I won't peek?”

  “Cormac.” I gasp as if the thought was purely his and nothing of the sort has crossed my mind.

  He chuckles but walks out of the room. My eyes follow the confident sway of his lean hips as he leaves.

  ***

  The weather has truly taken a turn for the better. A breeze every so often picks up, ruffling my skirts while I stroll with Cormac. I don’t want to think about how he was able to manipulate the weather. These boys are becoming more of a mystery the longer they are here.

  Clearing my throat, I lift my chin before I attempt to work through my thoughts. “So… uh… what—what’s your sister's name?”

  I watch as he considers the question, his tongue running over his teeth. “Valin.”

  “Hmmm, how old is she?”

  “Do you mean, like, including the hundred years, or no?” He tilts his head in question, the dark hair on his forehead falling over his eyes.

  “Without.”

  “She's eleven. And ornery as fuck!”

  A small grin breaks my tense lips at his lightheartedness. “How can you be so calm, so nonchalant about everything?

  His muscled shoulders rise and fall with his shrug. “I want to have better days than the past century. I… I don't know if we’ll break the curse or not. Even if we do, what will happen then? I just want to have the best possible time I can, while I can.”

  “Oh,” I reply twisting my hands nervously before me.

  “Enough about me, I want to talk about you.”

  Cormac rocks on his heels with his hands held loosely behind his back. He looks as if he’s a giddy schoolboy waiting to walk his new girlfriend home. So far he’s keeping his promise, he hasn’t touched me once and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry because of it.

  “Me? What do you want to know?”

  I’m so rarely candid with anyone it makes me nervous just thinking about what he might ask.

  “Just the basics I suppose. What’s your favorite flower? Color? Food? What’s your middle name?”

  They’re simple enough questions. The questions ease the anxious feeling turning in my stomach.

  Looking up at him, I find myself taking his arm as we walk. “Let’s see... Peonies, blue, apple pie.” I lick my lips at the thought of the warm dessert before I stop. “My middle name?”

  “Yes.” His blue eyes dig into me, searching me. He looks like he wants me bared to him. A warmth spreads through my chest. Maybe I want that, too.

  “Corrine,” I whisper to the ground.

  He pauses, grinning at me. That smile. Cormac smiles with his whole face, his eyes shine, his dimples pop, lines crease the outer corners of eyes. I hold his gaze and my knees knock together and a fluttering stirs through my stomach.

  “Wrenley Corrine Hazlitt. That’s a beautiful name,” he says in a husky voice. He leans closer to me, his leg brushes against mine, filling me with a tingling sensation.

  My breath catches.

  “Oh, my sweet Lord. Wren?” The question catches us off guard and we turn, instinctively taking a step away from each other.

  Hazel comes bouncing over to us, her curls bound in a tight bun and her breasts overflowing from her gown. She automatically points her finger at me as if I'm in trouble.

  “You need to see your father. Now, like, yesterday now. You missed breakfast which he wanted to talk to you about…” She pauses, glancing at Cormac who holds a casual stance with his hands in his pockets. Cormac doesn’t try to appear as a guard, as someone with authority. Hazel’s attention drifts back to me. “When you didn't go see your tutor, well, I thought you father’s head would just about fly off!” She waves her arms over her mimicking what it must look like for my father to lose his head.

  Sighing, I grab her hand, patting it gently. “Okay, wish me luck.” Dread drips with every word I utter. I wave for Cormac to follow and head to find my father.

  Together we find him in his office and at the sight of me he drops the documents in his hands, angrily pointing to the seat before his desk.

  “Wrenley. You. Are. The. Next. Queen. Of. Aveil. I expect more out of you.” Heavy steps boom through the room as he comes out from behind his large oak desk to stand before me.

  Cormac quietly stands at the back of the room, guarding by the door as my father, red-faced, continues. Awkwardly, I squirm in my seat under the full judgmental fury of my father. Somehow in this moment, he looks older than I've ever seen him.

  Did I do that to him?

  “I've received word from Lord Turningten’s guards. It seems you have still managed to run off by yourself to the ocean.” He peers over me, his glare landing on Cormac before it settles heavy on my shoulders again. “Then today, without a word, you skip breakfast. You don't even attend classes with your tutor. It seems Lord Turningten cares more for your own safety and well-being then you do.”

  Lord Turningten. A mental eye roll is all I can manage as I stare up at my father with nothing but obedience and concern in my features.

  He crouches down before me examining my features. What story does he think he will find? I blush under his watchful eyes.

  His voice softens just a bit, “Wren, you really have left me no choice. Lord Nash Turningten has officially been deemed your betrothed. He cares for you. He’ll be good to you.”

  My jaw falls open as he speaks. My heart failing, I freeze. Panic races through my veins as my heart begins to beat again, frantically.

  Behind me Cormac shuffles against the door, a soft banging sound emits as if he’s stumbled. His presence becomes very apparent. My father frowns back at him, his dark brows lowering heavily. His hands clasp and unclasp into fists at his side.

  “No, but Daddy—” The words come out in a shriek.

  Holding his palm in front of my face to quiet me, he responds, “No Wrenley. Not another word. And I will expect you at dinner tonight. You are dismissed.”

  But I don't move, I can't. Staring back at my father I'm at a loss. How could he?

  I should be stronger. I should speak out. I should say something. Anything.

  But he’s my father and there’s no words to express the hurt that’s stinging my chest.

  Cormac steps to my side, gently pulling me up by my elbow. “Come, Princess.”

  The king eyes his guard with a deeply etched glare.

  Walking out of the room, I'm speechless an
d I have a million things to say all at once. I take each step backward so that my eyes stay in contact with my father. Cormac drags me out, shutting the door between my father and my furious glare.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Bad Idea

  Cohen

  “He did what?” My jaw snaps tightly closed. My tone echoes through the long hall. Cormac and I stand in a corner discussing something that is most definitely a private matter.

  “He said she was betrothed to Lord Turningten,” Cormac repeats, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

  “That guy’s a fucking leech,” I seethe and Cormac nods at me in agreement. “Did he set a date? We have a hundred days. She can’t be worrying about Lord Fucking-Turningten right now.”

  I’d like to think I’m just stressed about our lives but if I’m being honest, I’m worried about her life as well. Her future.

  “No date. Not yet, anyway.”

  The more I think about his pale hands on her body the more rage burns through my veins. He’ll use her. He’ll hurt her.

  Without another word, I’m storming down the hall, not bothering to hide the fact that I’m rushing to her bedchamber.

  I fling open the door without knocking, my boots striding across the dark hardwood floors.

  But she isn’t here.

  Silence pulls through the empty room.

  “It’s dinner time, Coh. She’s having dinner.” Cormac’s voice is small and unsure, a tone I’ve never heard him use since we were children. He filled out in his teens and so did his confidence.

  I brush past him, our shoulders bumping before I push the door closed.

  “Then we’ll wait.”

  “In her bedchamber? You want to wait in the Princess’s bedchamber?” His voice cracks with a hint of laughter.

  I cock a brow at him, my thoughts flying through my mind irrationally. He’s gaping at me as if he’s suddenly a bit speechless for words.

  “It’s just that… I’ve hidden in women’s bedchambers before and it never once ended well.” A smirk plays at his lips as he reminisces about his past.

  I barely hear him. I walk to the double doors and peek out at the setting sun. Light bounces off the ocean in warming colors that floods her room. I shove my hands into my pockets as I study the beautiful sunset with a scowl on my face. My shoulder leans tiredly into the wall.

  What will happen to Wrenley once we’re gone? If the curse is broken or if it remains, what will happen to her without us?

  My stomach sinks low and I swallow hard just thinking about it.

  I hear Cormac flop down into a chair just as a knock booms across the door.

  My heart skips a beat.

  Shit, Cormac was right for once in his life. Maybe this is a bad idea.

  “Princess? Your father’s looking for you.” Cason’s deep voice vibrates through the room.

  A tense sigh slips from my lips. I cross the room and quickly crack the door open. His brows pull low as he looks at me in confusion in the Princess’s room.

  “Already? You slept with her already?” The annoyance in his voice isn’t overlooked.

  “No.”

  I roll my eyes at him and look down the hall, making sure no one else is around before gripping the dark lapels of his jacket and pulling him inside.

  The door is barely closed when it’s thrown open again. The princess’s cousin runs into my arm, her chest lingering against my skin. I pull safely back from her, but her light eyes seem to brighten at the sight of three men in her cousin’s bedroom.

  “What a pleasantly unexpected surprise,” she purrs.

  Fuck, this is an awful idea.

  Chapter Twelve

  An Apology

  Wren

  A weight pulls at my shoulders with every step I take.

  I’ve always been too safe. I’ve played the good little girl all my life.

  Now I’ll be married to a man that doesn’t care for me at all.

  The breath shakes out of my lungs. The last thing I want to do is go back to my room and sit and think about him for the rest of the night. I look about the dark hall. It’s late. I missed dinner. I hope my absence makes my father as angry as he made me.

  It’s a childish thought but it seems to help a little.

  With a heavy breath, I open the glossy door to my bedchamber. The dusty light of the sun shines through the room in warm hues of gold and orange. The sunlight casts against Cohen’s bronze skin, lighting up Cormac’s beautiful eyes and touches Cason’s full lips.

  My mouth falls open as Hazel’s squeal of delight is the only sound that’s made. She bounces over to me.

  “Finally the party can start,” she says in a rush, her hands gripping my arm. “Why is your hair wet?”

  “I went for a swim.” My wide eyes study the four of them placed throughout the room. “Why are you all here? My father will kill you for being in here.”

  I’m a betrothed woman after all.

  My stomach twists with the thought. I lean against the door, pushing it closed behind me.

  “We thought you could use some company,” Cason says as he stands at my side, his wide shoulders shrugging almost nervously.

  He isn’t like his brothers. He’s gentle and calm and thoughtful. The tension falls from my chest just looking at him.

  “Thank you,” I say in a quiet voice.

  “Are you okay?” Cormac asks, leaning forward in the chair near the window. His dark hair looks messy and pulled at as if he just rolled out of bed.

  I nod, my throat feeling dry just thinking about my future.

  “What’s wrong?” Hazel asks, her normally playful voice dipping with concern.

  I shrug and swallow down the feeling building in my chest.

  “I’m fine,” I say in a breath.

  Her brows lower as she studies me. I can feel everyone staring at me, their attention prickling across my skin.

  Hazel pulls me in against her small frame, hugging me to her.

  My eyes close tightly as I wrap my arms around her. We’re like sister’s she and I. Sometimes we fight like sisters but she’s always on my side.

  “We should go,” Cason tells his brothers.

  He seems to notice more than anyone else. It’s like he watches every small emotion that crosses my face. He knows just what I need.

  I need to be alone.

  Cason and Cormac make their way toward me and Hazel takes a step back.

  “I can stay if you want,” she says in a quiet voice.

  Her father will be here to pick her up at any minute.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

  Her frown deepens, her mouth pulled low. She finally nods and opens the door. Her hand brushes over mine once more before she slips from the room.

  Cormac gives me a slight smile that doesn’t meet his eyes before he too leaves. Cason pulls me in against his wide frame and hugs me tightly.

  “It’ll be okay, Princess.” He pushes the air from my lungs as I lean into his warmth, wishing to stay there forever.

  But I can’t. He pulls away too quickly and saunters out.

  My eyes rise to meet Cohen’s. He stands across the room still, his hands tucked deep in his pockets.

  “Can I stay for a little while?” His smooth voice washes over me, kicking up a flutter of butterflies low in my stomach. The simple rhythm of his voice does that to me.

  Suddenly I don’t want to be alone any more.

  I nod and the soft clicking of the door closing behind me spirals energy through my core. We’re alone in my bedroom. Again.

  The span of the room separates us, my back pushes flat against the sturdy door as he leans against the wall opposite of me.

  I take a breath and the tension falls from my tight shoulders. Finally, I step away from the door and flop down on the bed, my legs hanging off the edge as I stare up at the ceiling. Exhaustion seeps through my body.

  “You smell like the ocean,” he says with a smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth.r />
  A small smile tilts my lips as I nod. “I love the water. It’s freeing. I can drift away there.”

  “Me too.”

  I wonder if he ever saw me before we met.

  Without warning, Cohen sits down at my side, his weight pulling me closer to him. He lies down beside me, his strong body brushing against mine.

  His size isn’t overbearing. He’s lean but he holds himself with a confidence that draws me in.

  “You and Hazel act more like sisters than cousins.”

  An easiness presses into me. In this moment, life is simple.

  “We’ve always been close. Sometimes she makes me crazy. I hate how she treats me like a child. Whispering about her latest boyfriend to her friends right in front of me like I’m too young to understand. I’m eighteen. I’ll be the queen of Aveil someday.” And Lord Turningten will be my husband. I’ll never feel real love in my entire life...

  His hand brushes mine, his fingers resting lightly atop of mine over the comforter. His touch pushes away the heavy dreadful feeling that was laying in the pit of my stomach. A tingling sensation spreads up my arm from the small contact and coils within my belly. Suddenly, my muscles are tense against the overstuffed mattress.

  “She does seem to be a bit…”

  “Promiscuous.” I finish for him.

  “I was going to say slutty, but sure.” He shrugs, his broad shoulder brushing mine.

  The giggle that bursts from my lips is anything but ladylike. His fingers begin sweeping across my knuckles.

  The laughter settles against my lips. I soon realize the feelings building in my chest from the small contact from Cohen.

  What if another man never makes me feel like this ever again?

  It’s a terrifying thought. It’s a thought that makes me feel like my life is gone already.

  I turn on my side, the perfect comforter wrinkling beneath me until his dark gaze meets mine. He looks at me with heat blazing through his warm eyes. Hesitantly, I lean toward him, his brows lowering in confusion as I press my lips against his.