Kiss of the Royal

by Lindsey Duga

  Ears tingling with heat at his veiled chastising, I sat, focusing on my knees. Finally, after sealing his letter with wax and placing it on top of other outgoing letters, he straightened and folded his hands inside his robe.

  “Regarding Prince Kellian…my deepest condolences.”

  His words forced the scene from Minnow’s memories back into my mind. I pictured the goblin—with a left eye that was horribly mutilated from Kellian’s blade—casting its mysterious curse, and green lightning engulfing my prince as the goblin disappeared into smoke.

  I looked from the stack of letters on his desk to Gelloren’s face. He was watching me with those gray eyes that knew me so well. I didn’t have to pretend with him. And I didn’t have to tell him how Kellian’s loss made me feel. Like the goblin had personally carved out a piece of my heart with its clawlike fingernails.

  He knew. Gelloren didn’t need tears or whining. He needed me to be strong. Focused.

  “My Kiss…didn’t…” I cleared my throat. “It didn’t work, Master.”

  Gelloren gave a tiny nod. “And you think that is somehow your fault.”

  I glanced down at my hands balled up in my lap. I knew this new curse had to be terribly powerful, but even so…my revival Kiss was the best in the four Kingdoms. How could one goblin, one of the weakest kinds of dark creatures, have been strong enough to beat me?

  “Minnow shared her memories with me,” Gelloren said. “It’s clear this green lightning is a new curse of great magnitude. Gifted though you may be, Ivy, your power isn’t unlimited.”

  Gelloren would never coddle me. He always told me the truth—no matter how difficult. So I should have felt some relief, but his words made me feel worse. My power was limited, and the Forces were growing unimaginably stronger. How could I feel better about that?

  Swallowing, I forced the words out. “Yes, well…I wouldn’t want you to think I no longer deserve a partner.” I twisted the hem of my tunic, needing something to squeeze. “Because Kellian is no longer able to fight…I would like…”

  Just say it, Ivy. Tell him you want another partner, that you want to find the Wicked Queen yourself—that it’s your duty.

  “You don’t need to say it, my dear.”

  I held my breath. Would this be the moment my career at the Legion came to an end? With no pure princes left in Myria to wield my magic, the Council could argue I should be shipped off to the southern castle of Freida to begin producing heirs, just like my sister, Clover, had been three summers ago. She’d already had a son and was trying for her second.

  Gelloren sighed, picking up another letter and unfolding it with his thin fingers.

  Could that be a summons from Freida? Oh, Holy Sisters, I’m only seventeen! If they sent me there, how long would I be forced to stay? Would the war just get worse and worse until I came back to nothing but blood and ash?

  He smoothed out the letter. “You need another partner. I know this.”

  My shoulders relaxed.

  “Kellian’s state, while tragic, is no excuse for us not to use Myriana’s Mark to its fullest in battle,” Gelloren continued.

  At the mention of my greatest ancestor and her mark, I drew myself up taller. “Thank you, Master. I was afraid you’d make me retire to Freida.”

  Master Gelloren placed the letter facedown, leaned back in his chair, and studied me. “No, we need your power now more than ever. The Forces of Darkness are rising to insurmountable numbers. Witches are creating more nests of dark curses, generating more and more goblins, trolls, griffins…and now with curses we have yet to identify.”

  I nodded, knowing this all too well. Hearing it out loud made me realize I had no reason to fear they’d send me away. Even if the Council pushed, Gelloren would make them see the awful truth: they could not afford to wait until my children grew up to fight the Forces. What good was it to have Queen Myriana’s direct descendants if we didn’t use them? Thanks to a carefully constructed family tree, it was literally what they had been born to do.

  Master Gelloren looked out his study window. “I fear that if we do not do something drastic soon, it won’t matter how many heirs we produce. We’ll be overpowered.”

  The bird, still hidden somewhere in his office, stopped singing, as if it sensed the gravity of our conversation.

  “I just don’t understand, Master Gelloren. How can we be so outnumbered? We are far more adept and trained than we were five hundred years ago. We kill at least fifty creatures every patrol, and yet a hundred more take their place!” The goblin’s scarred face flashed again in my mind, and I squeezed the fabric of my tunic until my knuckles turned white.

  Master Gelloren stood and walked to his window, staring out at the Royals training below. The sun had fallen behind one of the few clouds in the sky, changing the shadows within the room, giving the office a more sinister atmosphere.

  Which reminded me… “Sir, I spotted a swarm of sparrow harpies today, just outside the town limits.”

  “Yes, I saw them, too. I dispatched a team earlier to investigate.”

  “What do you think they mean?” In my studies, I’d learned that sparrow harpies spotted during the daytime were a bad omen. Often a harbringer of something evil to come, although I couldn’t imagine what. We were already under constant threat.

  “I’ve an idea that I don’t feel comfortable sharing yet. I will when the time is right,” he said, turning from the window and giving me a familiar smile.

  I didn’t like that smile. It was one of indulgence that he wore when I thought I had dealt the winning hand during a game of cards.

  “Master…”

  “We must continue to fight, and that is all we can do for now, my dear.”

  “So get me out there.” I stood, too. “Please, whatever I have to do—I’ll do it. I’ll go to chapel every night and recite the sacred prayers, anything. Just find someone to be my partner—I don’t care who it is.”

  Gelloren stroked his gold-and-silver streaked beard and maneuvered around a tower of books. “It’s not that simple, Ivy. We must find you a partner who can utilize your power for what you’re worth. And currently there are no Royals in Myria whom I feel are truly at your level.”

  “Sir, it doesn’t matter. Even if he has barely any Royal blood—even if he’s a terrible swordsman—I can make up for it.” I poured all my passion and all my anger at seeing my partner’s comatose body into my words. “I had four princes before Kellian and each one was able to slay beasts three times their size. Telek took down a griffin in a single stroke with the power of one of my Kisses, and Drake slew three dru-goblins at once. Master, I was the nine-year-old who, with her first Kiss, was able to cure a village of a drought curse—”

  “Enough.” Gelloren waved his hand, the sleeve of his robe swishing under his thin wrist. “I know very well what you’re capable of, Ivy. Which is why,” he said, picking up the letter that lay facedown on his desk and then handing it to me, “I will not allow just any prince to be at your side. You must be protected.”

  For I am a powerful weapon in the Royal Arsenal.

  The letter was from a Master Mage of the Saevall Castle in the West. Quickly, I scanned the neat, tiny handwriting, and my knees started to bounce. Not with anxiety or nerves. But with excitement. “They’re sending reinforcements? To Myria?”

  Gelloren nodded. “I wrote to Saevall last month, explaining that we had lost a few of our best Royals to the Forces. They’ve responded by sending us a generous reinforcement from their own Legion.”

  I frowned. “Are you sure they can afford that?”

  “We’re much worse off than they are.”

  It was true. Myria was the northernmost kingdom, sitting on the outskirts of the Galedral Forest and the Wu-Hyll Mountains, which were said to be the birthplace of some of the Forces’ most powerful creatures.

  “I’ve been told one prince in particular is especially promising,” Gelloren continued.

  But I stopped listening. I was too busy rea
ding the bottom line of the letter. Expect their arrival on the morning of the fifteenth day of spring.

  Tomorrow. Help would be arriving tomorrow, along with a prince who could get me back on the battlefield.

  Chapter

  Four

  Reinforcements

  After taking a pain-relieving potion for my legs from Ulfia, who had done nothing but scowl and mutter something about stubborn idiots while she prepared it, I spent the rest of the day on the training grounds. Bromley had followed to help me spar. Although I’d never asked him to—he gladly attended fighting lessons and trained beside me. At fourteen, he wasn’t at full height or strength, but he was quick and a fast learner. Ever since I had threatened to dismiss him from my service for going easy on our fights, our sparring sessions were always interesting, though he rarely won.

  Today was no different. I threw my shield up in front of my face as the wooden blade of Brom’s practice sword came straight for my head. I shoved against his sword with my shield, and the “blade” thumped down the side. Grunting, I pivoted, my sword swinging toward Brom’s side when his shield came down to meet me. Before he could counter, my legs gave way, and I was down on the grass, staring up at the sky and grimacing.

  Bromley’s head poked into the corner of my vision. “Milady?”

  “Blasted son of a wraith.” I pounded the pommel of my sword into the grass.

  “Miss Ulfia did say the potion would take away the pain, but not the effects of the curse,” Bromley said as he took a seat beside me.

  “I know,” I muttered, dropping my sword and stretching my fingers out to the sun, releasing the built-up tension. The light around my hand made it hard to see Kellian’s mark of partnership, although I knew it was there—seared into my skin until the unbinding ritual was performed. Mentally, I wasn’t yet prepared for another, but I’d have to do it.

  Removing his mark was like giving up. Giving up another prince and another friend, and admitting I hadn’t been strong enough to protect him. And that maybe I would never be.

  Stop, Ivy. I folded my arm over my eyes, blocking out the sunlight.

  “Maybe we should get to supper. I heard there’s roasted pheasant with kasper-mint jelly.”

  “Not hungry,” I said, even as my stomach growled.

  Brom lay down beside me and sighed. “Did Master Gelloren say you wouldn’t be getting another partner? Because you know…maybe now would be a good time to rest. I mean you’re just getting out of this locking curse and—”

  “No,” I said sharply. Brom was always trying to find ways to keep me out of battle. Usually I never got mad at him, because I knew he did it out of worry. But today was not the day to bring up the idea of resting. Not after a failed revival Kiss. “I’ll have another partner soon enough.”

  Bromley shifted on his side, and I peeked at him from under my arm. “Really?” he asked. “Who? Amias?”

  I sat up on my elbows, following Bromley’s gaze to a group of older princes sparring. Amias was among them, his black hair shining in the late afternoon sun. I could almost smell his sweat. I knew his scent and the heat of his breath too well. We’d Kissed many times during practices and skirmishes when both of us were in between partners, but the Council had never deemed us compatible.

  The biggest reason being that Amias was only a half prince. His mother was a queen, but his father was a blacksmith in the lower towns. This would be reason enough not to be paired with him, but nowadays half princes actually ranked pretty high compared to quarters, eighths—even twelfths. Plus, he was naturally good with a blade—he never worked very hard at it—and with my Kiss, he’d be truly fearsome. It was also no secret that Amias wanted a direct descendant of Myriana at his side to give him more power and prestige.

  I lay back down, returning my arm over my eyes. “No. Not Amias. Never Amias.” If we became partners it would turn into a competition. Each of us trying to use the other for our own gain. We were too similar, and that was dangerous.

  “Roland?”

  “Roland and Minnow have been partners for three years, and their partnership is one of the strongest in the Legion. I could never split them up.” Partners could be shuffled around for a number of different reasons: princesses were shipped off to Freida, or one too many mistakes in battle caused the Council to question their compatibility, or partners who simply never got up again…like mine. But severing a partnership bond was a painful procedure for both parties, so the Council avoided it when possible.

  “The Council could do it to guarantee you a good partner,” Brom pushed.

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter, Brom.” I lowered my arm and told him about the Saevallans’ impending arrival.

  “You’ll be getting a Saevallan prince?” Brom asked with wide eyes.

  The castle stretched above us, with its stone towers and battlements and Myrian flags flapping in the wind. Myria Castle was an ancient structure, but stronger and more formidable than any other in the four kingdoms—even Saevall, the kingdom built from golden sandstone.

  “There’s no one left here.”

  Brom went quiet. Then he tugged my sleeve. “Speaking about nothing being left, we might not even make dessert at this point, and I’m dying for some gingerberry tarts.”

  I smiled for the first time that day and waved my hands toward his face. “Come on then, help me up.”

  …

  My quarters were not grand. When I was very young, living with my mother and Clover in the kingdom of Freida, I had a fancy room with velvet drapes and silk embroidered cushions. That was before I started training at the Legion. Since then, I had lived in a quaint room with a bookshelf, a desk, a single bed, a window, and another adjoining room with my bath. The floors were stone, decorated with woven rugs. My only wall ornamentation was a tapestry depicting the Wu-Hyll Mountains, big purple-and-white monstrosities, with the green threads of the Galedral Forest at their base. There was a sunset right behind the mountains, making the purple peaks stand out like sharp shadows against the sunset’s warm colors.

  It was this tapestry that I was staring at—that I was always staring at—when my two younger sisters barged into my quarters.

  “Ivy! How are your legs? Is the curse completely gone?” Colette hurried over and hopped onto the foot of my bed, while Robin took a seat in my desk chair.

  I smiled at my little sisters and hugged the pillow tighter to my chest. “Gone enough.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come see you earlier. Queen Jocelyn had me going over the spell behind a freezing Kiss.” Colette was my half sister from the same mother. With golden hair and deep blue eyes, she kept growing lovelier, and she was only a nine-year-old, just beginning her training at the Legion.

  “Those are basic. How could it take you all that time?” Robin asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

  Colette stuck out her tongue. “Says the princess who can’t break a simple binding curse with her Kiss.”

  Robin went red and pursed her lips. Robin was also my half sister, and Colette’s elder full sister. She looked more like our mother with her dark hair and eyes. Unlike Clover and me—we took after our father. After he died in battle, shortly after I was born, the Council assigned our Mother a new breeding partner, and Colette and Robin were born. They were not direct descendants, though, because of their father’s bloodline.

  “It’s late.” I gestured at the stars and crescent moon out my window. “Why are you two not in bed?”

  Robin rolled her eyes. “Colette wanted to see you. I told her you were fine.”

  Colette glared at her sister. “What about you-know-who?”

  I sighed. “His name is Kellian, sister. And while I’ll miss him, losing a partner is nothing new.” Again, pain needled its way into my chest. It certainly wasn’t new.

  Five partners lost. The shame and guilt were almost too much.

  All had been killed in battle. They’d been overwhelmed by beasts, as if they’d had targets on their backs. It had been
as if the monsters knew they were the strongest and needed to be taken down first.

  My Kiss was to blame for that.

  After my third partner had died from two griffins’ talons ripping him to bloody ribbons, I had collapsed before Master Gelloren, sobbing into his lap.

  “Why, Master?” I’d said. “Why does this keep happening?”

  He had stroked my hair gently, letting me cry, something the Kings and Queens would never have let me do. No weakness. Not ever. “Your Kiss has great power, my dear. It contains the Mark of Myriana. Monsters and curses will always be naturally drawn to its power and seek to destroy it first.”

  I’d felt nothing but despair. Was that it, then? Were all my partners doomed to carry that mark and its strength and suffer for it?

  Maybe Kellian had been strong enough, but now I would never know. He was gone, too. As much as the guilt of losing him weighed me down, I knew it was the Forces who had destroyed my princes—the Forces who deserved to be slaughtered like the monsters they were. And it was the Wicked Queen, the Mother of all those awful creatures, who deserved to crumble to dust—like she would have a long time ago, if not for her unnatural dark power.

  “We…we just wanted to see if you were okay,” Colette said, pulling me out of the memories threatening to drown me.

  “I am.” I swallowed, forcing a smile “I will be.”

  Robin grinned. “Especially now that new meat is on its way to Myria.”

  “Of course you heard.” I rolled my eyes.

  “We also heard a certain prince is already picked out just for you,” Robin said in a singsong voice.

  “Yes, well, I do need another partner and—”

  Robin waved away my words. “I mean, haven’t you heard all the rumors about him?”

  “What are you going on about?” I fiddled with a loose thread on the pillow.

  She abandoned her chair, hopping on my bed next to Colette. “The Swordsman Prince!”