Cursed

by Keri Arthur

  It was rather unnerving, if only because his expression gave no hint as to what he was thinking. And though I’d felt his anger only moments ago, that nebulous empathy seemed to have flickered out as quickly as it had arrived.

  The door closed and the carriage dipped as the guard climbed into the driver’s cabin. Almost immediately, we were on the move, the vehicle emitting little more than a barely audible whine as the batteries engaged. I stared out the window as we drove through the gate and onto the strip of land that connected this outcrop to the mainland. The waves on either side reached toward us, the droplets of water glittering silver in the dusk’s fading light.

  Divona’s formidable metal curtain wall soon came into sight, her rusting sides gleaming orange and silver. The lights atop the nearest tower were already alight, their fierce beams sweeping the cliffs and pinning the carriages in brief but blinding brightness before moving on.

  In very little time, we were back in Divona and moving toward the castle. Though the previous incarnation had been a true fortress, the impassable nature of the cliffs had afforded its replacement a bit more flexibility. While her outer walls were made of a no-nonsense metal that was considered impregnable to all known weaponry, the buildings within played with space and structure. In some ways, they reminded me of a child’s game of shapes, in that there was a rectangular base made of thick bluestone blocks—the remnants of the old great hall—onto which a variety of different shapes seemed to have fallen. My quarters were within what was known as the triangle wing—a red metal construct that was generally used to house emissaries and visiting dignitaries. The king and my brother lived in the hexagon quarter, and it was a place of white marble, rich tapestries, and gold fittings. It was also the most secure building within the castle grounds and had an exit into an underground tunnel that led to the white cliffs and safety in times of attack.

  As the carriage came to a halt outside the guarded entrance into the triangle wing, Donal reached back and knocked on the wall. “I require two blankets to protect the modesty of myself and the princess.”

  The guards didn't immediately answer, but I could hear the murmur of conversation as they cleared the order with their superiors. It was obviously approved, because a few minutes later, the door opened and two blankets were handed in.

  I nodded my thanks at Donal and wrapped the thick woolen blanket around my body. No doubt the method of my arrival and my nakedness would soon be the subject of all manner of court gossip, but if the king were true to his word, then I would be gone from this wretched place on the morrow. Gossip would no longer be my problem.

  I wasn’t entirely sure the highlander and his unknown intentions were a grand improvement, however.

  I headed through the metal and glass entrance and strode down the wide hallway to my room at the rear of the building. The guards and Donal followed, the heavy footsteps of the former echoing on the cool red flooring. Despite all the metal surrounding us, there was an airy grandeur to these halls, in part due to the triangle of heavy glass that ran the entire length of the building’s roofline, and in part due to the myriad of tiny lights. In the darkest hours of night, they made it appear as if thousands of fireflies had been trapped within the walls.

  Two guards waited either side of the door into my quarters. Neither greeted me—they simply opened the wide doors and stepped back.

  My room was as airy as the rest of the building. Sheer pale pink curtains covered the metal walls, and the plush sofas and cloudsaks that defined the center of the room were a mix of that same pale pink, deeper maroons, and silver. The bedding platform sat at the far end of the room and was partially hidden by a metal screen of entwining silvery branches and leaves. There was an ablutions area—again partially screened—to the right of this.

  “The king has ordered replacement clothes for you, Lord Donal,” one of the guards said. “But neither of you are to leave this room until collected in the morning.”

  “So I believe.” Donal’s tone was curt. “You are dismissed.”

  The door closed. Holding the blanket a little tighter around my body, even though I was sure he had no intention of forcing his will upon me just yet, I turned around and said, “Why did you ask the king for me?”

  He raised an eyebrow, his expression mocking. “You didn’t want to remain in that place, did you?”

  “Just answer the question, highlander.”

  “Donal, if you’d please. And perhaps I will. But only after we both shower. I’m sure my aroma is as unpleasant on your nostrils as it is on mine.”

  “That is a certainty.” It came out little more than a husky whisper. My voice was giving out again, damn it.

  His grin flashed. “Then I shall take first honors in the bathing area.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you’d like to share.”

  I snorted and shook my head.

  “Your loss,” he said amicably, and continued on.

  I frowned after him. The man was an enigma—a dangerous unknown who was plotting with his mistress for who knew what gain. And for good or for ill, I was now a pawn in those plans.

  I walked across to the small desk situated under one of the windows, picked up the scribe quill, and swiftly placed an order for food, coffee, and a healing tonic. While quills didn’t have the immediacy of halos—which were basically Q-shaped versions of the communicator circlets that hooked around the ear and came without the same brain-frying tendencies—they did at least offer a secondary means of fast communications. Every quill was magically paired with another, and what one wrote the other echoed. In this case, the quill’s pair was in my maid’s quarters, and was far easier—and quicker—to use than a bell. The king, it seemed, didn’t trust me with a halo, though why I had no idea. It wasn’t like I could broadcast my situation to those in the court.

  Although up until yesterday, I hadn’t thought it possible to hurt my brother, either.

  Donal hadn’t surfaced by the time the refreshments had arrived, so I poured myself a tonic and then filled my plate with meats, sweetbreads, cheese, and a thick slice of warm brioche. My appetite, it appeared, had returned full force.

  He came out just as I was reaching for another slice of bread. He not only looked cleaner, but his wild hair had been tamed into some semblance of order by one of my silver clasps, and his beard—newly trimmed—enhanced his strong features rather than hid them. A pink towel was wrapped around his hips and oddly added to the overall impression of virility.

  “I must say, Princess, I didn’t think pink would be your color of choice.”

  “It’s not.” My voice was still scratchy, but the tonic had at least eased some of the burning. “But it’s the color the king thinks those he sends to my bed will expect.”

  He raised that eyebrow again. “So you really do bed emissaries on your father’s orders? I had not in truth believed the rumors.”

  “Oh, they’re all too true, but it’s not like I had any other choice—”

  “You’re of royal blood—”

  “Who is nothing but a slave to the king’s wishes.” I threw the brioche onto the plate and thrust up. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a shower.”

  He let me pass without saying anything, but his disbelief harried my heels as I stepped into the bathing area. I dropped the blanket, slapped the auto heat button, and then stepped into the shower. The water was hot—not quite scalding but not far from it—and, as I had done more times than I cared to remember over the last twelve years, I raised my face and allowed the water to sluice over my face and body. It helped erase my memories no more now than it had all those other times, but it did at least wash the sweat, blood, and grime from my skin.

  When I finally stepped free of the water, I quickly finger-combed my hair. It was cut unfashionably close to my neck and had elicited many comments about how much prettier I’d be if I only grew it out, but hair length was one of the few things in my life I could control. Besides, very short hair was impossible to grab during battle.

 
I pulled one the gowns from the hooks on the wall to the side of the mirror and wrapped it around my body as I returned to the living area.

  Donal had finished the rest of the meat plate and was pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Would you like one?”

  “No, thanks.”

  I filled my cup with the rest of the tonic and then perched on a cloudsak opposite him. “Are you going to answer my question now, or is this some game you play?”

  He regarded me evenly over the rim of his cup for several seconds, and then said, “I rarely play games, but I begin to believe you’re well versed in such things.”

  “All courts have their intrigues,” I replied. “If you do not learn the rules quick enough, you die.”

  “Indeed, but if your earlier comment is anything to go by, I think there is far more behind your artifices than mere courtly machinations.”

  I didn’t bother replying. I simply sipped my drink and waited for him to continue.

  “That being the case,” he said eventually, “I suggest we attempt what is undoubtedly a rarity in this place.”

  “Restraint?” I replied, voice bland.

  He laughed, and for the first time, there was a hint of real warmth in the sound. “No, honesty. And I have to admit, I find your sharp tongue rather refreshing after the polite formality of Cannamore’s lords and the teasing sweetness of her ladies.”

  “And yet it was this very sweetness you sought when you decided to take your ease in this place.”

  That brief flash of warmth faded. “She said she was free. If I’m guilty of anything, it’s trusting the word of a woman.” He drained his cup and thrust to his feet. “Do you have ale in this place?”

  “Use the scribe pen on the desk to order what you wish and a maidservant will bring it up.”

  “Ah, good.”

  I watched him walk across to the unit, and then said, “What is it you truly wish of me, highlander?”

  “Honesty, as I said,” he replied evenly. “But I also offer a deal—one that has benefits for both of us.”

  “Such as?”

  He didn’t reply immediately, and when he finally did, it was with another question. “How safe is it in this place?”

  My eyebrows rose. “That depends on what you mean by safe.”

  “Do the walls have ears?

  “No, but they quite often have eyes.” Though I doubted anyone would be watching us now, given the hour and the fact that most of the court would be in the feasting hall.

  He grunted and returned to the sofa, sitting on an arm. His casual posture belied the sudden tension in him. “Then I offer you, in exchange for your help, the one thing you so obviously want.”

  “The death of the king and my brother?” I said blandly.

  “That might be a side result,” he said. “But what I’m offering is the glass throne itself.”

  Three

  For several minutes I could only stare at him. Then I laughed. Harshly.

  “You would go to war against all of Cannamore for a woman most courtiers consider no better than a common trull?”

  “No, I would go to war for the one thing my people have long wanted. Independence.”

  There was a passion in his voice—a light in his eyes—that stirred something I’d long thought dead: interest. Not sexual interest, but rather the simple need to know more about this man and his people.

  “I want the right to rule our lands as we see fit,” he continued, “rather than be forced to obey the orders of a man and a people who do not know or love our lands, and who certainly do not understand her ways.”

  “If you think I’m going to be the one to give your people their freedom, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  “That’s more than possible, although the wind is rarely wrong.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Rarely?”

  He grimaced. “It was on her advice we signed the treaty. We have regretted it ever since.”

  “And yet in signing your people were gifted centuries of peace. Have you not regained strength and rebuilt your broken lands in that time? I wouldn’t call that a bad deal.”

  “And there are many amongst the five tribes who agree with you.”

  But not his people, his tone suggested.

  I drank some tonic and continued to watch him warily. “Why does the wind believe I’m the one who will make such a gift to you? No woman will ever hold that power. Not in this place.”

  He shrugged. “I cannot explain it; I only repeat what she tells me.”

  I snorted softly. “Then your mistress of air is seriously insane. Even if both the king and my brother were to die, I wouldn’t be placed on the throne. It would likely go to whichever of my male cousins could draw the sword.”

  I couldn’t help the slight edge in those last few words and his gaze narrowed. “You resent that.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? As you said, no woman has ever taken hold of the throne, so why does your anger run so deep?”

  “Because the ancient text above the throne never mentions a firstborn son.”

  “And yet history has gifted this land with the rule of one firstborn son after another,” he said. “So why the anger when, as you said, the throne was never yours to sit upon anyway?”

  “Because I was raised to believe I was every bit as worthy as my brother. And because—” The bracelets stirred to life, the heat burning into the thickened skin of my wrists. It was a warning I dare not ignore. I quickly downed the rest of the tonic and then added, “My anger, as you can see, is little more than thwarted ambition.”

  “Oh, I think it’s a whole lot more than that.”

  This man was dangerous, if only because—unlike so many others who’d stepped into this room—he saw what lay beneath the surface. “So what, exactly, does your mistress whisper about me?”

  “A rather obvious change of topic, Princess, but I shall indulge you for the moment—”

  “If you expect to be rewarded for such indulgence, you’re bound for disappointment.”

  His teeth flashed; once again I wasn’t entirely sure if it was a smile or a snarl. “I have no desire to tumble another lady of this court. One has caused more than enough trouble.”

  “You don’t want my body, and yet I can in no way deliver what you do want,” I said. “I think your mistress has led you into a bad bargain, highlander.”

  He shrugged. “Even the wind cannot fully predict fate’s path. Every decision, every action, alters the lines of what could be. She can only whisper of what might be.”

  “Then tell me what she’s whispering about our tenure at the Karva Pass. Why did your father tell you to survive, no matter what?”

  “We’ll survive.” There was a grim flatness in his tone that belied his words. “We must. Whether these lands will is another matter entirely.”

  Fear pulsed—not so much because of his words, but because of the weight the stirring air seemed to place on them. “Why would you believe our lands are in danger? The Skaran might harass our borders, but I’ve heard no mention that they were ready to launch a full-scale attack.”

  “It is not the Skaran we need to fear, but someone—something—else.”

  “Is that why you were here in Divona? Because of this undefined threat?”

  “Yes. My father thought the king should be aware that a darkness stirs.”

  “So why not use a communicator? At least you and your brother would not have ended up in the eighth tower.”

  He smiled. “I did suggest that, but the wind advised otherwise.”

  “And yet she didn’t warn you of the dangers of bedding a lord’s wife? Your mistress is a fickle creature, it would seem.”

  “That can be said of most women, I believe.” He drank some wine. “And, unfortunately, not even the wind can always see past the veils that hide the future.”

  “Then she really hasn’t said anything more about the threat?”

  “No. In fact, she’s not inclined to say more than that darkness co
mes, and that war rides in on its coattails.”

  The apartment door opened and a tall woman with gray hair and a pleasant countenance entered.

  “The ale arrives, and just in time,” Donal said. “My thirst was becoming fierce.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, it was your damn thirst that led you into your current situation.”

  His gaze shot to mine, surprise evident, and then he laughed. It was a warm, rich sound that echoed oddly off walls that had not heard such a thing in a very long time.

  “I suspect we refer to two very different thirsts, Princess, but your words nevertheless hold a deep grain of truth.”

  My maid placed the large flagon and two mugs on the table next to Donal, and then glanced at me. “Will that be all, Lady Nyx?”

  “Yes, thanks, Mary.”

  She nodded and departed.

  “Lady Nyx?” Donal said, one eyebrow rising.

  “I asked her to drop the formality and use my name. Lady Nyx is the closest she’d come.”

  “Ah.” He reached for the flagon. “Do you wish some?”

  “No, thanks.”

  He poured himself a drink then contemplated me for several seconds over the rim of the mug. “Why do you call your father ‘the king’ whenever you reference him?”

  “Because he is.”

  “Yes, but you’ve never once called him Father, and that’s unusual.”

  I shrugged. “He stopped being my father the minute he forced these bracelets on me.”

  His gaze dropped to my wrists. “What was the blue light that briefly lit those things when your father said he ceded your presence over to me?”

  “I would tell you if I could. But I can’t. Not in this place. Not until we leave Divona.” I smiled, though it felt tight. “Is the war the wind whispers about the reason you offered me the throne?”

  “In part, yes. But that is a discussion best saved for another night.” He downed the drink and refilled his mug. “Is there only one bed in this room?”

  I half smiled. “Yes, and you may have it. I’m comfortable enough on the cloudsaks.”