Second Hand Curses

by Drew Hayes

  The dress was lovely, a crisp white that would be accented by dozens of roses when it was done. Around her, the designers scrambled, taking measurements, placing pins, working with a level of teamwork that both impressed Marie and left her nostalgic for her departed friends. As the gown took shape, she noted that the range of movement in her legs was limited. Without thinking, Marie brought the issue to her designers’ attention.

  “Can we do something about the way it’s clutching my legs? I’ll barely be able to walk in this, let alone sprint or dodge.”

  The room fell silent as they all looked at her in mute shock. Finally, the lead dressmaker stepped forward, head bowed as she spoke. “Your Highness, we will of course do as you command, but why would you need to run on your wedding day?”

  That was a perfectly reasonable question, and Marie found to her own surprise that she didn’t have an answer. When she thought about the impending day, the way Godric had described it to her, there seemed no cause for such concerns. There would be a lovely ceremony, then an address to all the peasants who would gather in the courtyard to greet the newly married couple, followed by a banquet of celebration. None of that should require the bride to race about or get into any fights. This was just an old habit, a lingering vestige of the life she was leaving behind. There was no rational reason to request such a thing.

  Still, something inside her, deep down in the most instinctual part of who she was, persisted that she should be able to move. And Marie trusted that part of herself more than any other. Especially with how she’d been feeling since arriving back home.

  “The wedding may run late, forcing me to rush to greet the people on time. Or I could merely take a tumble and have trouble righting myself. I’ll feel better knowing I can move freely, and as this is my wedding I hope you’ll indulge the request.”

  Even though she kept her tone as polite as possible the head dressmaker still paled at the mere suggestion that she had disobeyed a princess. What had happened to these people in her absence? Marie’s parents were never the types to inspire fear in their subjects; they ruled through respect and loyalty.

  “Of course, Your Highness. Anything you ask. I only wanted to know so we might make it perfectly to suit your needs.” Without another word, the dressmaker snapped her fingers and everyone else got back to work.

  Although Marie was glad for the changes they were making, the reaction worried her. Something was amiss in this castle, but for all her effort she couldn’t figure out what it was. Times like this, she dearly wished she had the others to talk to. But they had gone, it seemed, and she didn’t imagine she’d ever lay eyes on them again. When Jack and Frank left, they weren’t inclined to turn back.

  Not even for a farewell to an old friend, apparently.

  * * *

  “It won’t be easy. As I recall, the cost is high.” Lily rifled through the massive book, turning the pages quickly as she searched for a certain spell.

  “That’s why we’re willing to handsomely compensate you for the work,” Jack replied. “We’ll pay whatever it takes to save our friend.”

  “Keep your gold; I’ll do this for the sake of my kingdom and my princess. Marie saved me once; I owe her whatever aid I can offer. But the point still stands: you’re askin’ me to break an item made by one of the most powerful fairies in all the lands. That sort of magic is hard, and always comes with a cost mere gold can’t pay.”

  Jack chuckled under his breath. “You’d be amazed the things gold can buy.”

  Lily stopped flipping the pages as she found what she was searching for. “You two are in luck. The woman who taught me had some old tomes, the sort that aren’t commonly found even among other witches. I think I can make a potion that will break Godric’s necklace, assumin’ you’re able to provide the proper ingredients.” She turned the book around to show them the recipe. Most of it was simple enough: herbs, incantations, bits of certain animals. However, at the bottom of the page was the largest entry; someone had even circled it in what appeared to be old blood or cheap ink.

  “Sacrifice of the flesh,” Frank read aloud. “I presume that has to come from us, not from some Nivelle guard parts we may or may not have kept on hand just in case?”

  “You presume right. Breakin’ fairy magic is tough, even for witches. If you want to do it, you have to give somethin’ up. There’s nothin’ more personal than your own body, so if you want this potion to have the necessary punch then you’ll have to pony up.”

  Reaching into his bag, Frank produced a small blade with a sharp edge. “I assume the eye of a dragon will be adequate.”

  “Hang on there; I said it had to be your flesh. That eye doesn’t belong to you, its stolen goods,” Lily said. “Not much of a sacrifice if you can just pop another one in.”

  “Why am I not surprised that witch magic has to be pedantic about these things?” Jack held out his hand. “Frank, I’d rather your blade for this than mine, given the delicate work. An eye seems like a good choice though. I’ll miss it, but I can manage with one.”

  “Be warned, adventurer. I can see the wisps of death magic still clingin’ to you, and the stench of your body is that one recently healed, but this is more than just a maimin’. This is a magical sacrifice, and those are not easily undone. Whatever has healed you in the past, don’t expect it to bring back this eye. If you give it freely, then it will remain taken. I told you, the cost for a spell like this one is high.”

  “And I told you, we’ll pay whatever it takes to save our friend.” Jack motioned for the blade again.

  Frank started to hand it over, then thought better of it. “Wouldn’t you rather have me do the work?”

  “Can’t risk it. I don’t want it counting as you stealing my eye then tossing it in, or whatever other arbitrary rule the magic decides to throw on us. Just get me something very alcoholic and prepare to stitch me up when it’s done. If this is what the magic demands, then so be it.”

  With no more arguments to offer, Frank handed over the blade to Jack, who began to twirl it between his fingers.

  “You may want to wait a while before doin’ that,” Lily advised. “I still have to get the rest of the potion ready and cookin’ before I add that ingredient. I just wanted to be sure you’d be willin’ to give it before we started.”

  “Rest assured, you’ll get your sacrifice of flesh.” Jack stopped twirling the knife, instead looking into the shiny reflection of face staring back. “But I’m going to take a lot of eyes in return. They might call Nivelle the country of the blind when I’m done with it.” A sharp laugh escaped his lips, and he looked away from the blade. “Only joking, of course. After what they’ve done, there won’t be a country of Nivelle left when we’re finished. Not one with a proper king, anyway.” This time, he didn’t laugh afterward, and the gleam in his smile betrayed how serious he was.

  Frank didn’t object or try to correct Jack; it would have been a waste of words and he knew it. For one thing, no one dissuaded Jack when revenge was on his mind. And for another, Frank had considered the possibility that only one of these kingdoms would be left standing long ago. Tactics such as this were not the sort to be forgiven. Either Godric would succeed in taking over Villeneuve or his attempts would spark a true war between the kingdoms. Such an outcome seemed unlikely, and not only because of the politics.

  Finding a witch who happened to have the spell they needed, and by coincidence owed Marie a favor, was a little more than Frank could abide as mere chance. Few were that lucky, and certainly not them. No, this stunk of the Narrative pushing them forward. Why the Narrative would choose to back people like them was difficult to discern. His best estimation was that they represented the greatest chance to save Villeneuve. A grand final confrontation would suit the Narrative better than a quiet takeover, and they were merely vessels to deliver that outcome. Frank was at peace with being caught up in the Narrative’s flow for the moment.

  What concerned him was who it would back when this attempted
coup reached its climax.

  * * *

  Marie had only dreamed about her wedding day in childhood. Once puberty hit and her beastly curse manifested, such notions were put away. Instead, she focused on fantasizing about what it would be like to not fear at any moment she would sprout fur and have her secret betrayed. So it had been a long while since she paid more than a passing thought to what her wedding would be like.

  Even still, this felt off. The decorations were lovely, the food looked sumptuous, and the grand hall was positively stuffed with aristocrats from both Nivelle and Villeneuve. It should have been a nice, cheerful event celebrating the union of two kingdoms and the ushering in of a lasting peace, yet Marie couldn’t shake the feeling in her gut that something was wrong. Perhaps it was the contingent of Nivelle soldiers seated in a back section of the hall. Godric had explained that he needed them for protection until the union was official, and it made sense at the time, but she couldn’t remember why it had made sense. Another factor causing her discomfort may have been that the grand hall’s great windows were open, as was the door to the balcony, so that the teeming masses of people gathered in the courtyard might be able to look up and catch glimpses of the ceremony. As royalty, Marie was always destined to be married in front of a crowd, but this felt a tad excessive even by such standards.

  As her eyes turned to one side of the marriage pulpit, where King Adam and Queen Belle both stood waiting on her, Marie knew with certainty at least one reason this didn’t feel right. Frank and Jack should be here. After everything they’d been through, after all the near-deaths and narrow escapes, it felt wrong to have such a major life event arrive without them. On that account, there was nothing she could do. No one made Frank or Jack do anything they didn’t want to. Apparently that even included attending her wedding.

  The music began to swell, and Godric stepped out from one of the many doors leading into the grand hall, flanked on either side by his guards who were now wearing formal tabards. As for the new king of Nivelle, he had donned a set of armor polished so finely it was like a mirror, with a royal sword at his hip and the ever-present blue necklace fastened around his throat. Curious, it didn’t match the rest of his outfit well, although Marie couldn’t seem to focus on why that would matter. He and his guards stepped to their positions and looked down the aisle at Marie.

  When the music changed, her foot moved automatically, leading her onto the red carpet that was waiting for her. For reasons she couldn’t quite pin down, she didn’t want to look Godric in the eyes as she made her walk, so she glanced about at other things. Her mother, beaming with pride, her father, who was already tearing up and would no doubt enter full sobs before the ceremony was done. The smiling faces of Villeneuve’s guests, the dour stares of the Nivelle soldiers, the fleeting shadow moving beneath the pews where the soldiers were seated.

  Marie nearly faltered in surprise. That wasn’t supposed to be there, surely. Or had she merely imagined it? Now that she looked closer, there was no sign of any movement under the wooden pews. Perhaps it had been a mere trick of the light; she wasn’t used to getting by just with human senses anymore, not after having her curse for so long. She could still halt things and make a fuss, but she didn’t. Whatever was going on, Marie didn’t want to stop it, even if she couldn’t find the words to say why.

  Eventually, her walk drew to an end as she arrived at the pulpit next to Godric. The officiant, a duke from a nearby region renowned for his public speaking talents, stepped up to address the crowd.

  “Friends, family, citizens of both Nivelle and Villeneuve, today is a grand occasion. We have gathered here to join two royal families, two kingdoms, together. This ceremony marks the end of our ages-old conflict, and the dawn of a new era for peace within these lands.”

  “Peace? You’re mistaken good sir. What you have here is not peace, it’s servitude. When one man says do and all must obey, unable even to protest in their own minds, that is not peace for anybody but the one in charge.”

  All eyes turned toward the ceiling, where a cloaked figured was stepping nimbly into view atop the rafters. Most chattered in surprise and anger, while a few whispered with fear. Marie, on the other hand, felt her heart leap from the pit of her stomach where it been sitting for days. She knew that brash, dangerous voice as well as she knew the half-mad smile poking out from under the cloak.

  Across the room, the Nivelle guards began to rise but Godric waved at them to stay seated. “Be at ease, you fools. He wants to goad you into action, to disrupt the ceremony with chaos so he has an opportunity to strike. This is a cunning snake, you see. One who apparently knows how to play dead.”

  “Dead?” Marie whipped around to face her future groom. “You told me he and Frank vanished in the night.”

  Godric’s face creased in brief annoyance before he mastered his expression. “I wanted to spare you the truth, my dear. We caught them trying to rob the place, and in the scuffle they attempted to kill my men, who were forced to defend themselves. Both men were believed to be dead when it was over, but I couldn’t bear to hurt you with such news.”

  “I know that necklace of yours compels belief, but you could at least put some effort into spinning your falsehoods.” Jack was still walking the rafters, looking down at the sea of confused faces watching his every motion. “You and your half-trained goons killing me and Frank in a real fight? That’s ludicrous. If not for the poisoned body of your brother we could have gut you all before the first man had enough sense to break and run. But I’m not one to deny credit that’s been earned; you did manage to trick and stab us, so well done on that. Unfortunately for you, thrifty a man as I am, I always believe in repaying my debts.”

  “Oh? Will you leave the safety of those rafters and come try to do it, or shall we call in the archers to shoot you down?” Godric was paying no attention to the crowd now; he was so absorbed in dealing with Jack. From the corner of her eye, Marie caught movement, someone in a dark robe drawing closer.

  Jack reached a set of ropes tethering one of the many chandeliers in place and hunkered into a squat. . “I’ll be down shortly. There’s just one thing I have to do first.” From behind his back, Jack produced a torch wrapped in dark rags in one hand and a small device in the other. Instantly, Marie recognized it as one of the contraptions Frank built to hold flint and steel in a single hand, allowing one to create a spark with ease. Sure enough, in a moment Jack had lit the torch, which was burning brightly among the rafters.

  “A torch? You think a torch can defeat me?”

  The smile under the hood, now lit by the eerie flickering glow of the torch, widened to an inhuman level. As soon as she saw that, Marie knew things were about to about to get very violent, very quickly. Rearing back for a long throw, Jack’s grin turned to Godric for only a split second in response.

  “Whoever said you were my problem to deal with?”

  The sparkle of glass reflecting sunlight caught Marie’s eye as the vial twisted through the air, thrown with the expert coordination that only Frank could manage. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one to notice something amiss. Godric either saw it coming or took Jack’s taunt to heart, as he tried to turn away and curl up into his armor. Moving without thinking, because she no longer trusted her mind, only her instincts, Marie wrapped her left hand around the necklace on Godric’s neck and yanked it forward, putting it directly in the path of the glass projectile. She no longer had her cursed strength, but between surprise and determination she just managed to drag him the necessary few inches forward.

  With surprising soft tinkling sound, the vial shattered against the blue stone in the center of the necklace, coating it in a yellow-green potion that stank like rot. Marie jerked her hand away, which turned out to be a wise move. The gem started smoking first, then cracks spider-webbed through it, until finally the whole thing shattered just as the vial had, sending out a final burst of blue light.

  For a split second, all Marie could feel was a blinding pain in h
er skull. Then it cleared, and with it came the clarity she’d been denied since first speaking to Godric. All around her, others were shaking off the effects, angry faces glaring at the king of Nivelle as understanding of what he’d done set in. It might have come to a head right then and there, if not for the sudden blasts of noise that shook the hall and sent most diving to the ground.

  Whipping around, Marie saw the remains of the pews where the Nivelle soldiers had been sitting, right next to the burning torch Jack had thrown while all eyes were on Frank. He’d clearly hit the mark, lighting the fuse to the bags of exploding powder Frank had snuck under the pews. There hadn’t been enough to wipe out all the soldiers, but their numbers were greatly reduced and confusion ran rampant among the ranks. If the royal guards of Villeneuve struck quickly, the force could be put down without much of a fuss.

  The sharp ring of steel echoed just as Marie started to call for the guards, a dagger against her neck seconds later. Chaos quieted quickly as the people saw the princess in danger, all eyes on Godric and his blade as he began walking her away from the pulpit.

  “Do you have any idea how much work those two just destroyed? The amount of gold, promises, and sacrifices I had to make to get the Blue Fairy’s backing for this? That necklace was going to be a royal heirloom, so that the king of our united lands would forever rule uncontested, leading to an age of endless peace.”

  “Jack’s right, that’s not peace, its slavery.” Marie struggled, trying to push his arm away and finding her strength lacking for the first time since childhood.

  A dark laugh escaped Godric’s throat. “Did you forget, my bride to be, that you no longer have the power of a monster to rely on? You got your wish, and now you’re just a human. One who is going to accompany me back to my kingdom as a hostage to ensure we leave these lands safely. I doubt the king is willing to trade his daughter’s life for simple vengeance.”

  Standing on the pulpit, King Adam looked as though he were about to tear the stones from the floor in fury, yet he held his position, not daring to risk Marie to a twitch of the blade. Queen Belle stood next to him, stone-faced in her anger, which made those who knew the couple well even more afraid than the king’s fuming.