Cursed

by Keri Arthur

  But he wasn’t yet finished. He dug his remaining claws into the wall and lashed out with his feet. Again, I countered the blow with the blade, but he somehow twisted in midair; one foot connected with the side of my head and smashed it back against the wall. As stars danced, unconsciousness loomed, and with the realization that death would be my fate if I didn’t finish this biped, I finally reached for the earth.

  Smother him.

  She did. Quickly.

  For several seconds, I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. My head felt like it was splitting apart and consciousness was a heartbeat away from giving up.

  But I’d come this far. I had to at least try to get out of this place.

  Steps, the earth whispered. Use them.

  I looked left and realized that the mages’ stone steps had been thrust sideways by one of the tremors and were now within reach. I shoved the knife into the wall, shifted my grip and balance to it, and then drew the sword out and repeated the process until I reached the steps. I stumbled down them and finally reached the cavern floor. Elation surged, but it was short-lived. The tunnel I’d used to access this area had collapsed. The only sign it had ever existed was the pile of stone that had tumbled down the slope with me.

  Despair surged but quickly died under the rush of determination. One exit might have closed, but there’d have to be others, given this entire region was riddled with tubes and crevices.

  I ran on, but keeping any sort of pace was becoming more and more difficult. Not only because my strength was waning as fast as the thick, sticky moisture pouring down the left side of my face, but because the earth’s violence was shattering stalactites and sending them hurtling to the ground. I had no idea how close the volcano was to eruption and no desire to find out. I had to get out of here. Had to.

  As the rain of stalactites increased, the air stirred around me, a gentle caress that promised safety. But my legs were trembling, my head booming, and my vision was fading in and out. Only utter stubbornness was keeping me going, and even that would only last so long.

  Then I heard it. A thunderous boom shook the air and the earth. It knocked me off my feet and sent me crashing down onto all fours. I tried to push up, only to be knocked down again. Felt the ground around me shudder and shake violently. Smelled ash and heat and death.

  Heard another huge boom, this time from up ahead. Saw a huge chunk of ceiling splinter and fall. Saw the distant flags of pink and yellow glowing in skies still held by night.

  Safety. So near and yet so far.

  Not far, the wind whispered. She wrapped around me, cocooned me, then lifted me up and carried me away from destruction and death.

  Against all the odds, I survived.

  Tears once again stung my eyes, and this time I let them fall.

  Fifteen

  I woke to the all too familiar feeling of being watched. A smile twitched my lips, but I didn’t immediately open my eyes. Aside from the steady beeping coming from my left—one that matched the beat of my heart—the room was silent. But people moved through the corridors beyond, their laughter and conversation filling the air with noise and happiness. There was no tension evident, no hint of danger or fear, which suggested the Volker were no longer a threat.

  Aside from the lingering pain in my head and an odd tightness near my left ear and cheek, I felt better—stronger—than I had in ages. I wasn’t wrapped in bandages, my limbs were free of pain, and my fingers and toes all responded. All of which was something of a miracle—especially considering I’d been so certain death would be my fate, not life.

  Donal was sitting in a chair to my right, his feet propped up on the end of the bed. There were circles under his eyes and a heavy air of tiredness surrounding him. The smile that tugged his lips when my gaze met his was warm, but it fled all too quickly.

  “About time you woke,” he said, his voice neutral. “I was beginning to think you intended to sleep the entire week away. How do you feel, your majesty?”

  “Other than a lingering headache, everything seems to be in working order.” His sudden formality—distance, even—had uncertainty surging. I’d expected a certain amount of anger, but not this. “How long have I been out?”

  “Six days, three hours, and seventeen minutes. Not that I was clock-watching or anything.”

  I snorted softly and pushed upright, being careful not to disturb the IVs in my arm. “I take it we’re still in Rodestat?”

  He nodded. “The medics didn’t want you moved anywhere until you’d gained consciousness.”

  Suggesting they’d thought it possible I might not. “What’s happened with the Volker?”

  “The Gigurri mages undermined their domes as planned. The bipeds who survived our attack and that of the Skaran are on the run back to their volcano.”

  “Did we take much in the way of casualties?”

  “Plenty, but that’s to be expected in any war.”

  His replies remained perfunctory. I hesitated, and then said softly, “I’m sorry, Donal, but it was necessary—”

  “No,” he cut in, “it wasn’t. You should have trusted me, Princess.”

  “I did—I do. But the runes in the sword spoke of death, and I couldn’t bear the thought of taking you down with me.”

  “That choice was mine to make, not yours.”

  “I know. I just—” I hesitated again. There was nothing to be read in either his expression or his body language. Whatever he might be feeling, it was well and truly locked down. And that scared me. Seriously scared me. I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I know I betrayed your trust, but you have to believe I did it for the right reasons.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “If death by your side was to be my fate, then I would have accepted it gladly.”

  “But I couldn’t,” I bit back fiercely. “I wanted you to live. I needed you to live.”

  “Why?”

  I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it again. Uncertainty stirred through me. Uncertainty and fear. I’d spent so damn long guarding my emotions that it was now hard to release my grip, to set them free.

  “Answer the question, Princess.”

  “Because I wanted you to find what would never be mine.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “Happiness,” I muttered. “Love.”

  That eyebrow rose again. “And how do you know these things would not have been yours?”

  Not have been... three words that gripped my throat tight and made it difficult to breathe. Three words that suggested they could have been mine but now weren’t.

  I swallowed heavily and somehow said, “I did what I believed was right, Donal. Death—”

  “Didn’t take you, thanks to the timely intervention of the wind.”

  “And the eruption that opened a gigantic hole in the roof and gave you and the wind full access into the cavern.” I hesitated. “Did that eruption cause wider damage?”

  “No—the mages contained it to the Gulf region.”

  “At least that’s something.”

  “Yes. And you’ve yet to fully answer my question.”

  I stared at him, aware of the gulf growing between us and uncertain how to bridge it. After twelve years of having hopes and dreams crushed, it was hard to step beyond the shelter of self-perseveration. Hard to admit my emotions when what I felt was far too new and raw.

  “I’m not sure what you want, Donal, but—”

  “That,” he cut in heavily, “is not the problem here.”

  I frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting given we—”

  “All I’ve ever expected is honesty, Princess. In words, deeds, and emotions. If you can’t commit to that, then I can’t be here.”

  He dropped his feet to the floor and rose. Fear clutched at my heart and yet at the same time kept the words I knew he was seeking locked deep inside.

  “When you find the answer to my question, you know where to find me.”

  He leaned over the bed and kissed me. It was
so gentle—little more than a brush of lips against lips—and yet it was filled with so much passion and hope that tears stung my eyes.

  Then he pulled away, turned around, and walked out of the room. He didn’t look back, didn’t say goodbye. And, like the fool the king had made me out to be for the last twelve years, I let him go.

  I stood in front of the full-length mirror and stared at all my scars. Scars that were new—like the one that ran from my left ear to my cheek, where it met the scar my brother had given me long ago—and scars that were old but nevertheless lifelong reminders of my twelve-year battle to survive.

  Then there were the scars nobody could see. Scars that still held sway over my thoughts and actions, even today.

  Six months had passed since Donal had walked away. Six months with no contact between us, where I’d vacillated between anger over what he’d said and done, and frustration over what I hadn’t.

  Six months in which—with Jedran and my aunt by my side acting as advisors and guides—I navigated my way through the intricacies of ruling, confirming old alliances and forging new ones with both Chilbra and the De’Lorn Bylands—treaties that were far fairer than either really deserved. I’d also upheld the promise I’d made to Donal at the very start of our journey and written the Home Rule Act into law, giving not only the Westal Ranges the freedom of total self-government while still remaining a part of greater Cannamore but also Mauvaissia.

  Donal’s father and brother had come to witness the passing of that act, but he’d been conspicuously absent.

  It had hurt.

  Deeply.

  But this time, I could blame no one but myself for that hurt. And there was nothing—absolutely nothing—I could do about it now.

  It shouldn’t have mattered—not when the dreams that had kept me alive for so long had all come true. I’d taken the sword, claimed the throne, and all of Cannamore was now mine to rule.

  But I wasn’t happy. Would never be happy. Not in this place. Not when the scabs of past indignities and abuse were constantly being torn open by an unguarded sneer or ill-considered comment. Oh, they were all very correct in my presence, but old habits quickly reasserted themselves when they thought I was beyond sight and hearing.

  Footsteps approached. I took a deep breath, marshaled my emotions, and then turned around and held up my hands. “I know, I know, I’m not ready and I should be.”

  The woman who came into the room was my height, with red-brown skin, darker brown hair, and eyes as green as freshly grown grass. She was also the image of my mother and, even after six months of being in her presence almost daily, grief still rose whenever I saw her. But while I’d lost a mother, she’d lost a sister, and both us had been imprisoned by the will and word of a madman. More than anyone else in this place, she understood what I’d gone through. What I’d suffered.

  “Punctuality is a politeness many here don’t deserve.” She scanned me critically. “If you lose any more weight, you’ll be nothing but bone.”

  “I am eating, but it’s—”

  “Difficult to keep anything down when you’re forced to deal with idiots on a daily basis. I know.”

  A smile twitched my lips. “To put it politely, yes.”

  She stopped in front of me and pressed her hands to my cheeks. Her skin was warm against mine, her bright gaze understanding, and her wrists free of silver. The bracelets had released the moment my father had died.

  “If you’re not happy here, Nyx, then do something about it.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can. You must.” She said it gently but firmly. “You owe these people nothing. You owe the crown nothing—certainly not after all you’ve been through and all you’ve done. If your heart lies elsewhere, then don’t linger here; otherwise, bitterness and hatred will corrupt your soul as thoroughly as it did your father and brother.”

  “But Mom—”

  “Would have, above all else, wanted you to be happy. Don’t go through this coronation if you don’t want to sit on the throne for the next sixty or seventy years.”

  “Tonight’s nothing more than a formality. If I was going to back out, I should have done it long ago.”

  “You’re the queen of greater Cannamore. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

  Amusement bubbled through me. “I wish it was that easy—”

  “It is.”

  “I have no successor to claim the sword, and no one I trust beyond you and Jedran. I wouldn’t wish this rabble on either of you—not on a full-time basis.”

  “The fair lords and ladies of the council have a much greater respect for the earth and those who wield her now that the stories of what happened in Mauvaissia and the Karva Pass are circling. Your legend grows.”

  I snorted. “And yet most here still consider me little more than a common trull—a half-wit who nevertheless needs to be claimed so that they might rule in my stead.”

  “Those with any sense certainly do not think that.”

  “I’m not sure there are many within the court who could be described as sensible.”

  “That is, unfortunately, more true than not.” A smile touched her lips but failed to touch the seriousness in her eyes. “Jedran wouldn’t have accepted the position of regent if he wasn’t prepared to rule in your stead should it become necessary.”

  “Yes, but Gigurri—”

  “Yuri has been doing a splendid job in the six months we’ve been here. She’ll be fine.”

  I tried to make another protest, but she raised a finger, halting my words before they ever passed my lips.

  “For the last twelve years, you’ve lived your life at the whim of others. Don’t let your future be held hostage by duty and expectation if this isn’t what you want.”

  A somewhat bitter smile twisted my lips. “The problem being, if I walk away from this, I have nothing.”

  “You have us. You have Gigurri. You can live out your life there in whichever way you want. Or you can travel—visit lands near or far. You can set up home in some remote backwater or visit grand palaces on distant shores. The choice is finally yours, Nyx dearest. Don’t waste it here if it’s not what you want.”

  “What I want—” I stopped. What I wanted had walked away, and I wasn’t entirely sure it had ever been a true possibility anyway.

  I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. In the meantime, you’d better get dressed, or the coronation will run into the feasting and the kitchens will be complaining about the impoliteness of queens and food spoilage.”

  I laughed softly and got dressed. An hour later, I was kneeling in front of the glass throne. Cannamore’s finest was gathered behind me, the sword lay gleaming in front of me, and the ceremony was almost at its end. I’d been blessed by the prelate and undertaken the coronation oath. All that was left was the placement of the crown on my head.

  I crown I didn’t want.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then said, “Stop.”

  The prelate leaned closer and whispered, “Your majesty, is there something wrong?”

  I didn’t immediately answer; instead, I pushed to my feet and swung around. Looked at the gathered lords and ladies, some of whom I knew far more intimately than I’d ever wanted or desired. Saw the disdain that many couldn’t quite hide.

  Saw, too, my brother, a picture of utter misery, and his new mistress—Marttia, who was pregnant with his child. A child she hoped would one day claim this throne rather than her own.

  Saw Jedran and Helena. Saw the encouragement and understanding in their eyes.

  I took another deep breath and said, “Yes, there most certainly is a problem.”

  “Your majesty,” the prelate began, but I raised a hand, silencing him.

  “The problem, lords and ladies of the court, is not only the fact that I’ve spent twelve years being forced to cater to your every whim, but for the last six months have had to contain not only my utter hatred but t
he deep desire to raise the earth and smother the smug contempt from your ugly faces. I’ve forced myself to act as a queen should, to be fair in all my dealings with you when all I wanted was revenge. But I don’t want to spend a lifetime doing that. I don’t want to be a part of any more of your false courtship overtures when we all know that what you really want is the throne I hold. So, let me give you all that chance without my body being part of the so-called bargain.”

  I bent, swept the sword up, and then took two steps forward and thrust her into the glass throne—the real one, not the false. Sparks flew, gold and red stars that twinkled brightly in the white magnificence of the hall.

  “Whomsoever draws that sword from the throne shall rule all Cannamore.” I turned to face them again. “Until that point, however, my uncle, as regent, will rule in my place. And be warned, lords and ladies, if any of you take action against him or make an attempt to remove him unless by right of drawing the sword, I will return and take my vengeance.”

  With that, I picked up my skirts, walked down the platform’s steps, and left the hall.

  A day later, after goodbyes to Jedran, Helena, and Marttia, I left Divona. And felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. For the first time in six months, it felt like I could breathe again.

  With a silly grin on my face, I programmed my destination into the unmarked sprinter. It’d take me five days to reach the Blackwater Gateway—the entrance into the Westal Ranges. I had absolutely no idea what sort of reception might await me there, but I had to at least try.

  I skirted most of the major cities along the way, preferring to stop in smaller towns where it was unlikely I’d be recognized. It was nice to be treated as an ordinary person, to sit in old taverns in utter anonymity and just enjoy the company and food.