Cursed be the Crown (Cruel Fortunes Book 1)

by RAE STAPLETON

  “Do you ever stop to think about how your actions reflect on our business?” Opa added.

  Zafira slid her weary eyeballs in her mother’s direction. Her mother sat stiff-backed and thin-lipped, her long hair coiled at the nape of her neck. Zafira had finally convinced her mother to cut it off. Her appointment was set for today. It was the first step in Zafira being allowed to do it. Of course, her mother was a total stiff and would probably use this situation to back out. Zafira let a smile slip, thinking of what an aneurism her grandfather would have if her mother went through with it and bobbed her hair like one of those new age jazz girls.

  “What are you grinning about?” Opa thundered. “Do you have something to say?”

  “No, Sorry,” Zafira muttered.

  Zafira’s mother responded with a weary sigh.

  “You, young people seem to treat everything like a joke, don’t you?” Opa was off and running—responsibility, women’s suffrage, civic duty. She knew his rants well. What Zafira needed was a little hair of the dog, but her mother had confiscated her hip flask.

  “Zafira, honey?” Her father’s face was grim. “Are you sorry?”

  She managed a smile. “Of course, Papa.” Leave it to Papa to intervene and attempt to save her.

  “Tell me, mäuschen, why did you make up that horrible lie about Deborah and Elwood? Florence is your best friend—she’s very hurt.”

  For the first time, Zafira frowned. Papa always knew what to say to make her regret her decisions. Calling her little mouse was his favourite way to guilt her. “I wasn’t lying, Papa. Elwood is a cheater and a scoundrel.”

  “You accused the poor boy of… of…” Oma’s face colored as she stammered.

  “Of putting Deborah in the puddin’ club?”

  “Zafira!” Her mother gasped.

  “What?”

  “Of taking advantage of her and leaving her in the family way,” Her mother clarified.

  “I think you should know that unless you offer a public apology, Elwood’s family has threatened to stop shopping in our store.”

  “What? I will not apologize!” She stood so quickly that her head doubled its pounding and she had to sit again. “I did nothing wrong. I told the truth.”

  “Elwood bought Florence’s ring from our store. You’ve ruined their engagement.”

  “Elwood did that, himself. He shouldn’t have been so eager to whoop it up. He is a louse and Flo deserved to know the truth.”

  Zafira’s parents stared in stunned silence.

  “Can you prove your accusations?” her mother pressed.

  She couldn’t. Not without telling them about her dream, and she couldn’t risk that. “I will not apologize.”

  Zafira’s mother cleared her throat. “There is another option.”

  Zafira glanced from her mother to her father and back.

  “How would you like to go to London for a bit, with your Aunt Maggie?” Her mother asked.

  “I… ah… as in, England?”

  Zafira had stayed in London with Aunt Maggie last year around the same time. She’d had fun shopping and she’d especially liked the bookstore down the lane. She’d become friends with the shopkeeper, an older man she’s privately dubbed, the pirate because he wore an eye patch. She’d even bought her father’s favorite book from the place. H.G Wells’s Time Machine.

  “I spoke to my sister this morning. As you know she’s moving to London permanently in a couple of weeks to be with her fiancé. I was planning to go with her just for the bridal fitting and to help her get settled. Your father and I talked and we think perhaps you should come with me and then you can stay on after I leave and help her with her duties at the Manor.”

  “Just for the summer,” Papa continued. “Until this whole situation has sorted itself out.” Papa lowered his voice to a whisper and gave Zafira a hug. “If what you say is true, then Deborah won’t be able to hide it and the heat will be off you in no time.”

  The summer in London. Zafira thought to herself, she loved Aunt Maggie but the place smelled horrid and had the dreariest weather. Besides, she couldn’t leave Collin, or poor Flo. Of course she’d probably never speak to her again after this. She hadn’t deserved to find out what a louse her fiancé was in a room full of people—she should have told her privately.

  Zafira bit her lip. She needed to apologize now. What was the quickest way to end this discussion?

  She was tempted to argue, but she knew her mother and father well. She’d wait a few days and claim that she’d “learned her lesson well,” and they’d forgive her and let her stay home hopefully sans the apology to Elwood. London was fun for a week or two but she couldn’t leave for the whole summer —not when Elwood and Deb’s betrayal was about to blow up in their pretty little faces.

  She sighed and worked up just the right amount of tears. “I suppose that would be sensible. I do look forward to visiting Aunt Maggie, of course, it wouldn’t be fair at all to her—having me underfoot for the whole summer while trying to plan a wedding and I’d hate to cause her trouble, but London is such a big city and who knows what I might get into? I just have so much trouble controlling myself, but whatever you think is best.”

  “Hmmm, I didn’t think about that,” her mother said, her mouth set in a grim line. She looked over at her husband. “Maybe I should speak to Maggie again and just make sure she knows what she’s taking on. London is kind of a wild place and she is right downtown. Perhaps it’s not the right setting for Zafira.”

  Zafira suppressed a grin. Like shooting fish in a barrel, she thought.

  Her father checked his watch. “I have to get back to the store. You can come so I can keep an eye on you.”

  Zafira and her father rode to the store in silence. Normally, riding in her father’s Model T Ford was a point of pride. But today she hadn’t wanted to be seen. She wished she were as invisible as the spirits in her dreams.

  Her dreams were hard to take. She’d tried to keep quiet about the premonitions—only sharing them with her little sister, Veronika—but alcohol had loosened her tongue. She should have known better than to go out with Florence and everyone after she’d had a dream about them. It had happened before with other friends who were no longer friendly. She’d tried to intervene to save someone from a horrible decision—and suddenly she was branded the Breathour Witch. Her boyfriend, Collin was the only one still talking to her.

  “Zafira,” her father said in his soft voice. “You’ve been so quiet all week. What really happened at the party, pet?”

  The party. It had been swell at first. She and Florence and Deborah in their new dresses—hers was an apricot chiffon bugle-bead dress, adorned with a long string of pearls wrapped twice around her neck. With painted red lips and dark-rimmed eyes, they were all jazzed up. Flo lent Zafira her spiffy head band that rested across her forehead and Collin was paying her plenty of attention which was just how she liked it.

  “To the best of friends and times,” Florence said and touched her glass to theirs with a satisfying chime. Everyone was drunk and happy. And then Elwood sauntered toward them and Deborah scooted over to make room, flirting right in front of Florence. It ticked Zafira off.

  Elwood was handsome and charming and engaged to her best friend Florence. Gag. If Elwood liked a girl, that girl got noticed. Zafira hated Elwood, especially when she was drinking. It wasn’t that she was jealous. She loved Collin. It’s just Elwood wasn’t in love with Florence—Zafira knew that but up until her dream she hadn’t suspected he was cheating. Sadly, her dreams were never wrong.

  “Did I tell you that I have a gift?” Zafira taunted after her third drink.

  Elwood let out a loud, dramatic laugh, then shrugged. “The gift for gab.”

  “I am quite serious,” she slurred, too tipsy not to take his dare. “I can tell you things about your future.” There were polite chuckles around the table. Zafira fixed them with a defiant stare, her blue eyes glittering under heavily kohled lashes. “I am serious.” />
  “You’re lit, is what you are, Zafira Breathour,” Collin shouted. “Let’s go dance.”

  Zafira looked in the direction of the dance floor where a crowd of pie-eyed girls were lost to the booze and the beat. Zafira wanted to be in the thick of it. To let herself have fun but she also wanted to teach Elwood a lesson.

  “I’ll prove it. I know someone in this room will be married to Elwood by the end of the year.”

  “It doesn’t exactly take a psychic to know that. We’re engaged.” Florence laughed.

  Zafira narrowed her eyes. “Yes, but it’s not you, Florence dear. I had a dream last night about it.”

  “Well, it doesn’t surprise me that you dream about Flo’s fiancé but maybe you shouldn’t embarrass yourself by announcing it, Zafira,” Deborah said, showing her teeth. Everyone laughed, and Zafira’s cheeks went hot.

  Zafira brushed her hair away from her face, but it sprang back into her eyes.

  “Fine,” Elwood said before things could get really heated. “Tell me, Madame Breathour, who am I to wed?”

  “Why, Deborah, of course!” Zafira commanded with a dramatic flair to her voice.

  Frowning, Elwood straightened and reached past Deb for Zafira’s arm. “All right. You’ve had your fun. Time for a little sobering up.”

  She wrenched it away.

  Everyone pressed closer, interested.

  Collin laughed uncomfortably. “Time to go, Zafira.”

  Florence moved closer. “What’s this about, Elwood?”

  Elwood’s mouth was tight. “I’m sure I don’t know what she’s talking about. Zafira, Show’s over.”

  If Zafira had only been sober, she would have known enough to stop. But the gin made her foolishly brave. She tsk-tsked him with her fingers. “You were barney-muggin’ Deborah, that’s why I had that premonition of the shot gun wedding, you bad boy.”

  “Deborah, is that true?” Florence looked hurt.

  Deborah’s face was red. “That’s enough, Zafira! This isn’t funny any longer.”

  “Elwood?” Florence questioned.

  “She’s lying, sweetheart,” Elwood said reassuringly.

  Florence walked away.

  Zafira stood to follow her. “I guess we’ll see in five months, huh.”

  Elwood stubbed out his cigarette. “Just a moment.” He grabbed Zafira by the wrist and dragged her into the ladies lounge, closing the door behind him and holding it shut. “How did you find out?” he growled.

  “I t-told you. I have a gift—”

  His hand tightened around her arm. “Stop fooling around and tell me how you know! Did Deborah tell you? That little witch. She told me she got rid of it. I demand a public apology to clear my name.”

  “G-go chase yourself, Elwood.”

  Collin pounded on the door from the other side. “Zafira? Elwood! I saw you take her in there. Open up!”

  Elwood let go of her arm. Zafira could feel a bruise starting. “This isn’t over, Zafira. Your father owes his business to my father. You might want to reconsider your little story.”

  “Zafira?” Her father prompted now, bringing her back to the moment. The car had stopped and she’d followed him into the store. “Come over here.”

  She stepped forward, rubbing her aching head as she watched him unlock the jewelry case back up and pull out a large blue velvet box.

  In the quiet of the store, he brushed a finger across the sapphire featured in the amulet that was nestled into the dark velvet. There was also a ring that featured a chip from the same bluish purple gemstone

  “What’s that?”

  “A gift for your mother for our eighteenth wedding anniversary. Could you take it home for me? Hide it on the bookshelf, behind that H.G Wells book you bought for my birthday last year.”

  She smiled as she turned to take it into the back, imagining her mother’s face as she opened the box.

  “Zafira?” He called. “You know I believe you about Elwood, right? That boy is trouble.”

  “I know, Papa. I shouldn’t have handled it like that. I’m sorry you caught hell for it.”

  He didn’t take her to task for saying hell. Eugene Breathour was a good father.

  So why did she keep dreaming that he was going to kill her.

  THREE

  C ullen bent his head toward me as we strolled casually out of the alcove, his lips brushing mine one last time. There was a large table that took up most of the room and it was filling with Cullen’s family.

  “It looks like your grandmother has arrived with your parents.”

  They were all staring at us. Busted.

  I smiled through gritted teeth. “She’s probably staring at this low-cut dress.”

  “Well now, she’ll have to be after findin’ her own frock, won’t she? Cause ye look bloody deadly in that one.”

  His mother, Lucille, rushed across the polished wooden floor, playfully elbowing him out of the way in order to hug me. She was a fine-boned woman with beautiful brown eyes and curly auburn hair and when they stood side by side, it was easy to see he took after her. Lucky for him, because she had great genes. His father—or Da, as they called him—wasn’t too bad, himself. He had a charisma that both his sons carried.

  “Ye best be behavin’ yourself, boy. Now go see your Auntie on the other side there, she keeps askin’ after ye.”

  “Sophia.”

  My name was said in a strange, low whisper, and for a moment I froze as hands fell on my shoulders. It had been one year but I still worried at times that Nick would find me.

  “Look at you, lass.”

  I smiled and turned to see Cullen’s brother. “Liam, I’m so glad to see you.” I hugged him back. He lived close by, and was over for dinner at least twice a week.

  “Ye’re a beauty! For the life of me, I can’t be figurin’ why ye’re still with me brother.”

  “Did you hear that, Cullen?” One of the cousins, Ewan, called out. “Liam’s after ye're wan.”

  “Go ‘way from her, ye bloody jealous maggot—always after me scooter growin’ up, too,” Cullen called back.

  “Oh, here we go,” I said, preparing myself for their playful banter, most of which was lost on me.

  Liam drew me in for a kiss on the cheek and lowered his voice, practically whispering into my ear. “I saw ye first.”

  I smiled at the harmless peck. They were always teasing, although I couldn’t help but think sometimes Liam took it too far, especially for a priest. He let go and looked back at Cullen, who finished hugging his aunt on the other side of the table and strutted toward us.

  “Hold tight. I’m on my way to rescue ye.”

  “No rescue necessary,” Liam said, grinning. “I’m a man of the cloth.”

  Ewan, the youngest of the three, jumped to his feet and pretended to step between them. Both Cullen and Liam gave their cousin a friendly shove, and then gave each other a loving pat on the back as they hugged.

  Cullen, obviously sensing I was lost in thought once again, turned to me. “Ye sure ye’re all right, love?”

  “I’m perfect. It’s only that I’ll miss you,” I said, finally beginning to relax. He would only be gone four days but he was never home long before he had to jet off again on business.

  “And I, you.” He kissed my forehead, his lips soft and warm on my skin. “How ye plannin’ to keep busy?” He fiddled nervously with his jacket pocket. It wasn’t like Cullen to fiddle, and I gave his hand a squeeze. Maybe that was why he was so jittery. He mentioned once or twice the guilt he felt leaving me all the time

  “I thought maybe I’d go to that fundraiser tomorrow night—see if Leslie or one of your cousins wanted to tag along.”

  Someone clinked their fork off a glass and the musical tinkling made me look up.

  “O’Kelley Clan, can I get your attention up here for a moment?” Da called. “If you haven’t noticed already, champagne is being passed about so set your whiskey aside and grab one. Just remember to behave. Father John will n
ot be happy to see the likes of yous pickled at tonight’s vigil.”

  We sat as the table quieted down, and Cullen switched out my glass as the tray went by.

  “Now ye know that beautiful lass sitting over there at Cullen’s side,” Da continued, and all eyes turned to me.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered, nudging Cullen.

  He gave me his best I-have-no-idea look, and extended an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in tight.

  “T’was not that long ago, she fell into our lives from Sainte Marguerite Island—or perhaps it was the sky, ‘cause surely that one there is an angel.”

  “Quit stealin’ his lines, John,” Lucille chided.

  “I did, didn’t I? Sorry, son. Well then here's another stolen line while I’m at it: to women's kisses, and to whiskey, amber clear. Not as sweet as a woman's kiss, but a darn sight more sincere! Anyway, Cullen, time to be a man.” The laughter faded as Cullen pushed his chair back and stood, pulling me gently to stand with him.

  “Thanks, Da! Not sure how I’ll follow that up, but how about: to passionate people, beautiful futures, and lovely lasses who fall from the heavens,” he said, knocking glasses with me. Clinks echoed all around, and I smiled as he set his flute down.

  Then he lowered to one knee.

  Authors Note:

  Thank you for reading book one. Writing this series has been an incredible adventure for me. I have a penchant for time travel, castles, spooky old houses riddled with secret rooms and lost journals and I tend to include one or both in all of my stories. Fingers crossed you love all of these things too. Fun fact, this was the first series I ever wrote. It was originally titled something else and this baby is now thirteen years old. They grow up so fast, don’t they?

  I hope you enjoy Sophia’s witchy adventures. If you do, please tell someone. Word of mouth is still the best way to discover fabulous new reads. Reviews are also a great way to tell others about the books that you’ve enjoyed and they keep me going.