The Warrior's Curse

by Jennifer A. Nielsen

  “Mother has spoken of a plan involving the girl she brought from the Hiplands,” he had written. “She believes the girl can help us. I’m wary of her plan …”

  A few pages later, “The girl, Kestra Dallisor, seems to be able to draw in the curse from these woods. Mother worries what it will do to her. I worry what it will do to Mother, to be so near a corrupted person.”

  On the following page, “Mother has just explained her ultimate plan for bringing Kestra here. I don’t like it. I think it’s too risky …”

  And a few pages later, “Mother insists that I try to connect powers with Kestra. She believes that our people cannot be corrupted by magic, and I hope she is right, but I cannot deny that I am worried …”

  The final entry was only half-written, but it read, “I have decided to try connecting powers with her. It’s our only hope. If I corrupt, may my people forgive me. But if this works, my people will live once again.”

  I closed the book, incredulous at what I had read. The person who wrote these pages was nothing like the Joth who now occupied the Scarlet Throne, or even the arrogant Joth I had first met at Woodcourt. What I had seen from him yesterday and in recent days was only an evidence of his corruption, but it was not who he really was.

  Yet I would have to destroy him all the same.

  Just as he had destroyed Kestra, who had been every bit as innocent once.

  With that single thought, every ounce of pity I might have felt for Joth evaporated. He would get what he deserved, and sooner than he might have expected.

  I awoke to a searing pain in my shoulder, shooting heat through my arm that brought tears to my eyes and a scream to my throat. A hand instantly covered my mouth, and I heard a whisper, “I know, I know, but it’s all right. Please try to relax.”

  Tears fell to my cheeks, and my breathing became ragged. This was the same shoulder where Harlyn had shot me not many days ago, and that earlier wound had not fully healed.

  “You must be as quiet as possible,” the voice said. “We’re inside the palace.”

  I nodded, then the hand left my mouth. I fumbled for the disk blade that was lodged in my shoulder, though each miss at grabbing it only made the pain worse. Someone kept trying to push my hand away from the wound. How had this even happened? I must have been unconscious when I’d been shot.

  No, not unconscious. I’d been dead. That had been the purpose of this disk, to restore my life.

  I tried again to reach the disk. I felt its edge but had no strength to grip it. I needed to do it. The object that had saved my life would kill me if I could not remove it.

  Failing yet again, I brushed away the tears in my eyes, frustrated with being weak at a time I had to be strong. When I tried for the disk a third time, Darrow came into my field of vision. He must have been the one who had whispered to me before, and now he said, “I’ll pull it out; then you need to take as much strength from me as you can to heal yourself.” I shook my head and he added, “Kestra, you must. This wound is serious.”

  I shook my head again. “I can’t. There’s no magic.”

  “Because you’re weakened—”

  “Joth took it all in the same moment that I stabbed him. He took everything … that’s what killed me. I have no magic, Darrow.”

  He crouched near me and took my hands, looking into my eyes despite the low light of wherever we were. “Take strength from me, Kestra, try it.”

  I obeyed, but it was just as I had told him. I felt nothing of magic in myself, had no sensation of abilities beyond those of any other person, and, most of all, felt none of the heat inside me that had become my constant companion, nor the ice. I was simply me.

  Simply me, with a white disk lodged into my shoulder. This was the same one I had given to Darrow earlier, containing one ability only—to control a person’s heartbeat. A disk designed to separate a person’s body from their soul had reunited mine.

  I’d had the idea from the story the Ironheart told me, of how Tenger had once killed Sir Henry, only to find Sir Henry alive the following day. Endrick had the ability to restore life. That was the one power I had put into this disk. Darrow must have understood that I gave him the disk for a reason, and the disk did exactly as I had hoped.

  “The disk must come out,” Darrow said. “I’m so very sorry.”

  I nodded and gritted my teeth. After a gentle squeeze to my hands, he stood and put his hands on the blade. “Count to three,” he said.

  I closed my eyes. “One, two—”

  And he yanked the blade from my shoulder. Once again, I felt as though fire was piercing me from all directions. I clamped one hand over my own mouth to keep from screaming out loud; then, when it was over, he immediately pressed a cloth to my shoulder and began tying it. “We’ve got to get you to Loelle,” he said.

  I shook my head, but he said, “She’s with the Coracks and on their side, not her son’s.”

  “Are we really in the palace?”

  Darrow nodded. “I carried you out of the throne room while Joth was on the balcony, announcing your death. We’re in a storage room, but he did gain some servants after the duel. No doubt they are searching for you.”

  “How did you know to use the disk blade?”

  “When you gave it to me, you said I should keep it if I ever needed to use it on you. I didn’t understand what you had meant until I found you here.”

  Tears fell to my cheeks again, this time for a very different reason. “I’m so sorry, for everything before. What I was, what I did.”

  He put a hand to my cheek. “Hush now, that wasn’t you.”

  “Thank you … Father,” I whispered.

  In the room next to us, we heard something topple over. That could only be Joth’s minions. “We have to leave,” he said, pulling a cloak over my shoulders. “There’s another exit from this room.”

  He scooped me into his arms, and I leaned my head against his shoulder, trying to stay conscious but only doing a fair job of it. He was hurrying so fast, I was jostled in his arms, which hurt furiously, but there was nothing he could do.

  “Hold on,” he said as he opened the storage room door. “You must hold on.”

  I didn’t see how it mattered. Whatever he did here, I couldn’t possibly have long to live, though I couldn’t tell him that because he was my father and I wouldn’t hurt him with the truth. If Loelle was with the Coracks, then after healing me, I would be given to Captain Tenger, who had already passed a judgment of death against me. Maybe I deserved it; I no longer knew.

  Darrow carried me through a servant’s passage, and from there we darted from one shadow to another, hoping to be less visible. The next time I opened my eyes, dark skies were overhead. The palace walls still surrounded us, but we had cleared the worst of the obstacles.

  Or so I believed, until Darrow said in a low voice, “Someone is behind us.”

  “Let me down,” I said. “See, the palace gates are straight ahead. You will go faster without me.”

  “You see the gates, then?” Darrow stopped running, gently lowered me to my feet, and pulled the hood of the cloak over my head. “Get yourself there, Kestra.”

  I shook my head. “They want me, not you. I won’t make it anyway.”

  “They don’t know that you’re alive, and in this darkness, they’ve only seen me. I’ll give you time to escape, but you must go now.”

  With a loud cry to draw attention to himself, he began running back the way we had come. When I could see him no longer, I began hobbling toward the exit, one terrible step at a time. Now that Joth had use of Endrick’s magic, he could find me beyond the gates. My only chance was that he truly thought I was dead. And for now, my only goal was to get past that gate.

  Behind me, I heard Darrow engage in a fight with someone, and I walked faster, wishing my injured arm would allow me to cover my ears. I could not bear to hear the fight and wonder if my father’s chance of survival was any better than mine.

  After what seemed like hours, I
exited the palace walls, then aimed toward the nearest clump of trees, where I hoped I’d be better hidden than if I were on the roads. I made it there, but the effort of walking so fast on the uneven snow had cost me dearly.

  My shoulder screamed with pain, and I knew the bandage Darrow had given me had come loose. He wanted to take me to Loelle, certain that she could save me, and maybe she could. But at what price?

  I could not return to the Coracks, not with their plans for me.

  I wasn’t sure where the Coracks had set up camp, but I had last seen them at Woodcourt, so I needed to avoid that place. If I kept to the woods, I might have a chance of getting past Woodcourt without being noticed. And then … I didn’t know what, or where. Or how I would survive.

  I needed Darrow.

  I waited in the woods for a long time, hoping he would join me, hoping to see or hear any sign of what had happened to him. When he didn’t come, my hopes dimmed. Maybe he hadn’t come because he couldn’t come.

  I rested until my eyes became so heavy that I knew if I shut them, I might not wake. The night was cold, and I felt all of it. I had begun to shiver, and the tips of my fingers were becoming numb.

  With no other choice, I put one foot forward and began to walk again. One step after another, I promised myself that I didn’t need to fight, didn’t need to be or do anything greater than myself. I only needed to take the next step.

  And I wasn’t sure I could even do that much.

  My heart felt like lead as Rawk carried me away from All Spirits Forest. Kestra had been in those forbidden woods for weeks, close enough that I easily should have been able to find her.

  If I had known, I would have found a way inside, at whatever price, or risk, or effort. And if I had done so, I might have staved off the corruption. More important, I could have warned her against connecting powers with Joth, spreading corruption to him.

  I had never in my life felt worse than at that moment, and in the end, what was her sacrifice for? Yes, maybe she fulfilled her task as Infidante, and Endrick was dead, but what good did that do for us?

  I sat up taller on Rawk’s back, absorbing that thought. Yes, Kestra had fulfilled her task as Infidante. Upon completion of the quest, she had no longer been the Infidante. Stabbing Joth with the Olden Blade might have injured him physically, but only an Infidante with authority to use the Olden Blade could kill him.

  We needed a new Infidante.

  I sent that thought to Rawk, to hurry us to Woodcourt, and indeed we did fly in that direction, but then we passed directly overhead.

  Rawk, go back. I sent the thought first, and when he failed to respond, I said aloud, “Rawk, this isn’t right!”

  Rawk began a dive, but we were still farther up the hill from Woodcourt, closer to the palace than I wanted to be on my own. With little concern for the danger we were in, Rawk steered us through a narrow breach in the thick canopy of trees. Though most had lost their leaves for the winter, I had no desire to crash through their branches.

  He landed us in a small clearing, but I wasn’t going anywhere. He knew what I wanted, and I’d wait as long as it took for him to obey me.

  Rawk’s only response was to widen his wings and arch his back, forcing me to the ground. I stood up straight, furious. “This is important!”

  He remained still, leaving me with no choice but to walk from the forest alone, cursing his stubbornness. Finally, I heard the crackle of dried leaves and turned, expecting to see Rawk following me. Instead, from the same position where he’d stood before, he pulled his wings in.

  At the very moment Kestra entered the clearing.

  Impossible.

  My heart crashed against my chest, and time itself froze. This was more than impossible, more than I could make myself understand. But there she was.

  Once Kestra saw me, she wrapped her cloak tighter around her body and briefly looked back as if she was considering leaving. I couldn’t allow that.

  “Kestra, don’t go. Please don’t go.”

  She looked at me again and seemed to want to say something, but her eyes were full of tears and she swallowed hard, as if choking on her own words.

  There was so much I had to say to her too, but for all I had thought I would say if a moment like this ever came, suddenly I couldn’t think of a single word.

  Still facing me, she took a step backward, like a frightened deer that knew it was trapped.

  That was how she felt then, trapped.

  As if I were the enemy.

  Finally, she spoke. “Simon, I have to—”

  “I thought you were dead.” I began walking toward her.

  “Listen, I must tell you—”

  “I thought you were dead, Kestra.”

  And like that, I was directly in front of her, staring at her as if she were a forgotten memory from a past life. Maybe she was.

  Tears filled my eyes. “You saved my life today. But then I saw you fall when the Olden Blade failed. Then when Joth announced you were dead … well, I believed it. I’m so sorry.”

  “I …” Her voice trailed off with that single word. She tried again. “Simon, I—”

  “I know. But everything is all right now.”

  “It isn’t.” She widened her cloak, and for the first time, I saw the hastily wrapped bandage around her shoulder, bleeding through the fabric.

  Immediately, I scooped her into my arms and raced her toward Rawk. I kept a tight hold on her as we flew into the air.

  “Woodcourt isn’t far,” I said. “Loelle is there. She can heal this.”

  “No one else can know.” Kestra’s eyes were becoming heavy. “They’ll kill me.”

  “I’ll protect you from them, I promise.”

  But she only shook her head and leaned against my chest, too weak to stay awake any longer. Her final words broke what remained of my heart. “How can you say that? You planned to kill me too.”

  I awoke in a real bed with a thick mattress and soft, warm blankets, and, more important, a familiar bed. I’d been here before.

  This was the bed from my childhood. Where I’d grown up at Woodcourt.

  Suddenly alarmed, I tried to sit up but felt a pinch in my shoulder and had to lie back down. How had I come to be here? Was I a captive? Then I remembered, at least a little.

  Darrow had shot me with the disk blade I had created, one with magic to control a person’s heartbeat. It restored my life but in time, without care, would have taken my life again. The wound created by the disk had been deep.

  I vaguely remembered leaving the palace, though Darrow had stayed behind to protect me. If he had survived that, he was Joth’s captive now, possibly an Ironheart himself. And if he was, I had no hope of rescuing him.

  No hope, without magic.

  But no corruption either.

  Someone stirred behind me and I angled my head to see Simon in a chair near the fireplace, asleep.

  I remembered him finding me, though I couldn’t explain how he’d known to come to that clearing. He would wonder how I was alive, a far more complicated question.

  And it wouldn’t be the only explanation Simon would want. I couldn’t imagine the number of questions he might have, and certainly couldn’t begin to form answers to even the simplest questions in my mind. How could I explain what I didn’t fully understand?

  I did remember the feeling of corruption—the arrogance, the paranoia, and the way it twisted my mind and my heart. Most of all, it robbed me of the most basic of feelings: love.

  If that had cost me Simon’s love, I had no one to blame but myself.

  Perhaps it didn’t matter. If I was here with the Coracks, it would probably also cost my life. Even before I’d had magic, most of the Coracks had already wanted me dead. I couldn’t pretend that was going to change now.

  I needed to leave while it was still early and I could hope to get out of Woodcourt without being spotted. Hanging from one bedpost was the satchel I’d been wearing when I first came here. Hopefully my boots and cloa
k would be just as easy to find.

  As silently as possible, I pushed aside the covers of my bed but rolled my eyes when I realized I now wore a sleeping gown. I could hardly traipse through Woodcourt in this.

  If this was my old room, surely some of my old clothes still remained here.

  “You’re awake.”

  I looked back as Simon stood from his chair. His eyes were heavy, as if he had suddenly awoken from a deep sleep, and the tone of his voice revealed nothing of his feelings about me being here.

  He must have noticed me looking at my sleeping gown because he gestured to it and said, “Loelle did that. She couldn’t leave you in the dress you had been wearing, not as torn up as it was.”

  My eyes darted. “I need clothes. I cannot stay here.”

  “Kestra, it’s all right.” He spoke slowly, as if fearing at the faintest hiccup, I might run. Maybe he knew I was already considering it.

  “Nothing here is all right.” Every sound from the corridors made my heart stop. I couldn’t help but wonder if an army was gathering on the other side, if they already knew I was here and were stringing the noose. Whether they did or not, it was only a matter of time. “Other than Loelle, does anyone else know I’m here?”

  “Rosaleen knows. I had to send her to fetch Loelle. But we can trust them. You’re safe here.”

  “Am I? What will they do if they discover me?”

  Simon nodded as if he understood. He walked to my door, cracked it open enough to look out both ways, then closed the door and leaned against it. “As soon as possible, I’ll ask Rosaleen to begin searching for a place we can hide you until your magic returns.”

  “It won’t return, Simon. It’s gone.”

  His brows pressed low, and he shook his head. “Gone? That’s not possible. Our belief was that we could not separate the magic from you if you were to live.”

  Simon was staring at me as he often had before, his eyes full of hurt and affection, and an obvious worry that if he trusted me too much, I would break his heart again. He was keeping a safe distance, which communicated everything about how his feelings for me had disintegrated. But there was no way around this conversation. I only had to hope that at the end of it, he would still be here.