Cursed

by Keri Arthur

  It was both a reminder of my status in this place and of my reputation, one designed to hurt and embarrass. But as barbs went, it was poorly aimed. I'd heard variations of the same comment so many times that I'd become somewhat immune.

  But what was interesting was the uneasy stir that went through the gathered lords. It suggested my father had kept the true purpose of the bracelets secret; that, aside from Marttia, few had been aware of my lack of choice.

  “Unlike many here, I believe in freedom of choice.” Donal's voice was even, without emotion—the highlander at his most dangerous. “Forcing your will on another always comes at a price—a fact many here will learn soon enough.”

  The king raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat, highlander?”

  “No,” he replied evenly. “It’s not.”

  Rutherglen cleared his throat and, with a narrowed glance Donal's way, stepped forward and said, “My king, we’re here—”

  “You've already had my answer to your queen's request for more men, Lord Rutherglen. She has wasted both your time and mine by coming here.”

  “I came here to plead our case to the assembly. If Divona won’t help us, perhaps those gathered here will. After all, if Rodestat falls, these lands will be next in line for attack.”

  The murmur that swept briefly through the room told me no one here—other than the king, my brother, and Jedran's contingent—knew the true situation at Rodestat.

  “A dire situation indeed, but we all know that won’t happen,” the king returned evenly. “Just as we all know that is not the real reason you are all here.”

  “My king, I promise you—”

  “Enough, Rutherglen. The game was up well before it had truly begun.”

  My grip on the knife tightened. The heated power running through the floor ramped up several notches, but it wasn’t just my doing. Jedran and his mages were preparing to unleash and restrain.

  “This is no game,” Rutherglen said grimly. “It’s a matter of life or death.”

  “Truer words were never spoken.” The king’s gaze switched to Donal. “What did I say before you left this place? Did I not warn that nothing but lies ever leaves her lips?”

  “I think the lies began long before the princess was ever gifted the restraint bracelets, Rainer.”

  “Indeed they did,” the king replied. “They are a deep part of her nature and the reason she is marked. Her god does not want peace, Donal. Both you and Marttia have been played for fools and will pay the price. Guards—”

  Go, I said to the earth, even as I said out loud, “Move at your own peril.”

  I pushed past Donal and Rutherglen and strode toward the king. The wind came with me, a force of gathering strength. “You're right, Rainer, the game is up. It's time for you and Vin to come clean—”

  “Donal, restrain her. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to take action.”

  “If you want me restrained,” I said, “do it yourself. And if you want me dead, then have the guts to raise that sword and strike the blow yourself.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not the role of a king to personally take out insurgents.”

  “I’m not an insurgent. I’m the true heir to the glass throne and I’m here to claim what is mine.”

  “Did I not tell you she was mad?” he drawled, even as his eyes glittered with satisfaction. I was giving him exactly what he wanted—a justifiable reason to be rid of me. “By what right do you think you can claim this throne, when all here were witness to my son drawing the sword?”

  “Anyone in this room could have drawn the sword from that throne given it was a replica created specifically for that purpose. The real throne—the one on which you now sit—is made of the same impervious glass as the sword and the knife.”

  He frowned. “Knife? What knife?”

  “I mean Racinda’s knife, and the blade that is the other half of that sword.”

  I pulled it free and raised it high. The runes along the blade's length came to life, the ancient text glowing fiercely; a heartbeat later, the sword answered. Flames rolled down her sharp edges and deep in the heart of the blue-white glass, a phrase appeared. It was written in the same ancient text that ran down the length of the knife, but I nevertheless understood what it said.

  To defeat death and darkness, you must first accept it.

  My gaze returned to my father. Saw his contempt. Not just for me, but also for the power I held in my hand and the power he held in his—a power that had protected this land for so long. My gaze dropped again to the sword and the words that burned deep in its heart.

  So be it.

  “Acknowledge your lies, Father.” I said it quietly, but the wind picked up my words and tossed them loudly around the room. “Acknowledge the fact I'm your true heir and that the sword is mine by right, not Vin's.”

  A cool smile touched his lips. “No.”

  “Then I will take what you will not give.”

  Which was exactly what he'd been waiting for.

  With a flick of one finger, he unleashed a storm of metal. The guards in the aeries fired with deadly purpose—not just at Donal, Rutherglen, and me, but also at my uncle and his people.

  Anger surged. He'd denied me access to their support for twelve long years. He would not make it permanent.

  As the councilors scrambled to find cover, I ordered the earth to lock those above us into stone then sprinted toward the king. Bullets chased me, nipping at my heels and cutting through clothes. But they didn't bite deep, thanks to the fact I was still wearing Marttia’s shirt.

  The king hadn't moved; he was simply watching me with a disdainful smile. I realized why soon enough—a dozen men appeared in the periphery of my vision, coming at me from both the left and the right. That's why the stalls nearest the king had been filled—they were disguised guards, not councilors.

  I dropped, shoved the knife into the stone, and used it to pivot around and knock the nearest four guards off their feet. The rest leapt at me, pinned me, their weight and numbers making it difficult to move, to breathe. A scream that was both fury and fear rose up my throat but came out as little more than gargled growl. My lungs were burning, my head pounding, and the knife’s blade was being pressed into my side and somehow cutting deep, despite the vest. Or maybe the vest was simply no match for the power of the blade. Fear rose, its taste bitter, but with it came determination.

  He wouldn't win.

  Not this easily.

  And certainly not when the knife gave me easy access to the earth even as it sliced me open. But even as I reached for her, familiar footsteps approached, and a fierce flurry of air unceremoniously sucked the men upwards. Donal grabbed my arm and hauled me upright.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  He snorted. “You'd say that even if you were half dead. Go. I'll take care of this lot.”

  I spun and ran at my father, caught movement to my right and was sent flying sideways before I could react. My head hit the side of the nearby stall; stars danced in front of my vision and warmth flooded down my face. The thunder of approaching steps echoed and I groggily thrust the knife into the floor and sent a wave of white stone flowing toward my attacker. A scream rent the air—a scream filled with so much hate it sent chills down my spine. I forced my eyes open. Saw Vin in the air, leaping over the wave even as it reached for him.

  I swore, pushed upright, and all but fell over the stall's wall, putting it between Vin and me. It wasn't much, but it gave me breathing space. Gave me time to recall the wave and send it chasing after him.

  He hit the ground and lunged at me, every movement filled with the force of his anger. I pushed back and slashed with the knife, slicing open his one good arm. As his blood splattered across my face and stung my eyes, I glimpsed metal. Swore, and threw myself sideways. Heard the retort of a gun, felt slivers of wood slice into my face as bullets slammed into the seating inches from my head. Envisioned the stone reaching up, pinning his one arm to his body and leashing h
im to the floor. Imagined the same happening to my father.

  The earth answered so swiftly the entire building shook. Cracks appeared in the floor near my feet and fanned out rapidly, racing up the walls and across the graceful arches, until dust rained down and the ceiling became a myriad of cracks. If they joined, it would all come down on top of us.

  Part of me wanted that.

  Wanted to watch all those hiding under benches squashed under the weight of stone and guilt.

  But there were innocents here—people who didn't deserve to die amongst the scum.

  Donal. My uncle and his people. Rutherglen.

  I took a deep, somewhat painful breath, then shoved my anger back in its box and put a halt to the force threatening to tear the hall apart. My head was booming, my vision was fading in and out, there was blood in my eyes and matting my hair, and my side ached.

  But I was alive, and that was something of a miracle.

  I gripped the seat, hauled myself upright, and saw Vin. Fingers of white stone had wound up his body in a crisscross pattern, giving him enough leeway to breathe but little else. The rest of the room was a mess of broken furniture, broken men, and scattered guns. But, for the most part, it appeared that the lords and ladies of the high council had escaped unscathed. My uncle and his people were moving toward the three external doors, and it was only then I became aware of the booming echo of metal against metal and the shudder running through the main doors—the guards outside were attempting to break in.

  Rutherglen was nursing a bloody arm, had stone dust coating his hair and shoulders, and a cut running down his left cheek—a wound that looked to be caused by falling stone rather than a bullet or blade.

  His gaze met mine and he nodded. Once.

  An indication I'd finally won his approval, I suspected, but I couldn't dredge up enough strength to even smile.

  The one person I couldn't immediately see was Donal. But even as fear gripped my heart and squeezed tight, he rose from a tangle of broken men and swung around. The relief that swept through me was so intense that, for several seconds, I couldn’t even breathe. There was a cut across his forehead and blood staining his left thigh, but he was alive and so was I, and that was something of a miracle.

  The wind stirred around me, bringing me his words even though he didn't speak out loud. You're hurt.

  I ducked my head so no one could see my reply. “As are you.”

  It was very softly said, but the wind carried it across to him regardless.

  Do you need help?

  “Yes, but I can't accept it. I have to confront them alone, Donal.”

  They had to see—had to believe—that no matter what they thought of me personally, I was the true heir to the throne and the sword.

  The stage is yours then, Princess. Go claim your throne. We'll protect your back.

  I took a deep breath then turned to face the king. Fingers of stone had punched up through the dais and were wound like ropes around his body, pinning him to the throne. He still gripped the King's Sword tight, but so too did stone. With the earth no longer answering his command, he had little hope of freeing it.

  His expression, like Vin's, was furious.

  “This is treason.” His face was a mottled purple-red, sweat trickled down the side of his face, and his breathing appeared rapid. “Your aunt and uncle will pay a heavy price for their treachery, but you, daughter, will be hung by the neck until the breath leaves your body and the birds pick your bones clean.”

  “You always were such a caring and considerate parent.” I kept one hand on the half-wall as I moved toward the stall's exit. Though my vision had stopped fading in and out, my limbs were shaking and my head was filled with fire. I had no idea if the cause was weariness, blood loss, or perhaps even the knowledge of what was still to come. In truth, it didn't really matter. I couldn't and wouldn't call for a healer or medic. Not until I'd done exactly what I'd come here to do. “And if that is the penalty for treachery, then rest assured I will be more than happy to apply it.”

  “The rule of this place is mine.” His skin, I noted, was beginning to take on an odd sort of sheen. “You may have the backing of the Westal Wildmen and the Mauvaissians, but Divona and her allies have defeated them once, and we will do so again.”

  “I daresay you're welcome to try, but be aware that both the Mauvaissians and the Wildmen have honed their fighting skills against the Skaran and now the Volker while the rest of Cannamore has grown soft.” I glanced at the assembled lords. They were watching with varying degrees of concern and surprise, but there was little fear in their eyes and seemingly no understanding of what was really going on. “Whatever else you may believe, gentle members of the council, rest assured we are not lying about the threat at our borders. We truly are here to save Rodestat and consequently the rest of Cannamore.”

  The words might have been polite, but the tone wasn't. It was edged with the contempt I couldn't quite control.

  “You're here for the goddamn sword and throne.” Vin's tone was hoarse and spittle flew from his lips. “But it’s not yours for the taking. No woman has ever ruled this land and no woman ever will.”

  I clenched my fists but resisted the urge to strike at him—to tighten the shackles that bound him and have the stone claimed him as fully as it had Sage. But that death was too easy—too quick.

  I wanted him to suffer, as I had suffered.

  And I wanted it done for the rest of his life, not a measly twelve years.

  “You're right.” I briefly paused at the stall's exit to catch my breath and met his gaze evenly. “I am here for the sword. The throne is just a bonus.”

  He spat at me. I didn't move. I didn't need to. The breeze that stirred ever so gently around me tossed it back. It splattered into his right eye and dripped slowly down his cheek.

  I didn't bother restraining my smile as I pushed away from the stall's entry and walked toward the dais and the king. Power continued to pulse through the knife, its rhythm matching the thunder of my heart. Flames ran down its blade and dripped to the floor; at the touch of each drop, the veins within the stone came to life and golden fire spread before me, racing not only for the dais but also for the walls, the arches, and the ceiling. Repairing what I'd almost broken.

  As a show of power it was hard to beat, even if it was coming at the cost of my own strength.

  I slowly climbed the dais, concentrating on every step, refusing to show just how close to the edge I was.

  Aside from the soft sound of my footsteps, the room was silent. All eyes were on me. I stopped beside the king and said, “Chamberlain Karland, will you please contact those outside and inform them to cease and desist. Tell the situation is under control and they are to make no further attempts to get into the room until notified.”

  He hesitated, his gaze falling on the king before he nodded and moved away. “Lord Jedran,” I added, “will you please ensure Karland does relay the correct message.”

  My uncle smiled and stepped away from the door he’d been bolstering to follow the chamberlain.

  “Lords and ladies of the council,” I continued, “for the last twelve years the king and my brother have participated in one of the greatest—and most dangerous—lies in Cannamore's history. It was my hand that drew the sword, not Vin's. In return for what they saw as treason on my part, my mother was murdered and I was placed in restraint bracelets and forced to obey my father's every order. And yet it wasn't me who paid the greatest price, but rather Cannamore and her people. In shedding the blood of one of the earth's own children, he lost his use of her, which meant we had no warning of the evil that was gathering beyond our borders.”

  “What evil?” The voice belonged to Holgrath, lord of De’Lorn Bylands and a man whose tastes ran to threesomes. “You speak lies and half-truths—”

  “The Karva Pass fortress lies in ruins and half her garrison has been lost,” Rutherglen said, anger evident. “Rodestat holds, but given our foe uses magic and the earth against
us, I fear we’ll fare no better than the fortress.”

  A murmur ran through the room. “If the fortress had fallen, we would have been inform—”

  “As you were informed of our urgent request for reinforcements and—”

  “Enough, Lord T’Annor,” I said, softly but firmly.

  Rutherglen glanced at me and bowed his head in acknowledgment.

  I shifted my gaze to the last speaker. “Lady Harrison, the force that comes at us is the same foe that destroyed the Isle of Whyte and drove her people to Cannamore. The sword and the knife were created as a means of battling that foe, but both weapons can only be used by the true heir to the throne.”

  “Which is the king,” she said staunchly. “I was a witness to him drawing the sword when he was little more than sixteen, Nyx, and—”

  “You have not earned the right to use my name with such familiarity,” I cut in. “And I do not deny the king’s claim to the throne was legitimate. I am, however, stating that in murdering my mother—an earth mage herself—he has not only forsaken that right but has been abandoned by the earth.”

  “I find it hard to believe—”

  “Oh, please do believe,” Jedran cut in. “The earth is a gentle mistress, but she cannot abide the murder of one of her own by another. If you want evidence of his inability to control the earth, all you have to do is ask why he used guards to attack a Mauvaissian delegation or why neither he nor Vin did anything to counter Princess Nyx’s use of the earth power.”

  Doubt lingered in her expression. “There could be any number of reasons—”

  “Lady Harrison,” I cut in, and raised my wrists. In the golden light, the silver bracelets gleamed harshly. “You know what these are, do you not?”

  She cleared her throat. “From what the king said earlier, I believe they compel the wearer to do the bidding of whoever controls them.”

  “Indeed. Bracelets release.”

  “Don't you dare,” the king growled. His skin had now lost much of its color; even his lips were pale. “Release me this instant and I'll grant you a swift—”

  I flicked a finger upwards; the stone wrapped around his chest immediately flowed up and across the lower part of his face. He could still breathe through his nose, but he couldn't talk, and he certainly couldn't make any attempt to head butt me. I stepped forward and placed the bracelets on him. His eyes were little more than a sliver of gold, his chest heaved, and his fists clenched and unclenched. But there was no escape for him.