by Jana Oliver
‘You can do that?’ Reena blurted.
‘No. I cannot.’ Another chuckle. ‘What is it you wish of me?’
‘I seek the power to go inside the curse with her,’ Reena said. ‘Then I’ll help her break it.’
‘Is that so?’ She felt his breath on her neck, bitter cold, and gave out a sudden yelp of fear.
When Joshua whipped round, his eyes connected with those of the Dark Rider.
‘Oh my God,’ he whispered.
If was as if black had taken on a new dimension, with its own weight and intensity, far beyond the simple lack of light. The Dark Rider was made of this nothingness, from his hair to his skin to his eyes and his clothes.
‘You idiot! I told you not to turn round!’ Reena cried.
‘You smell of horseflesh,’ the spirit said. ‘Do you ride?’
Joshua gave a dry swallow and nodded.
‘Hey, no, this thing is with me, not him,’ Reena insisted.
‘No longer,’ the spirit replied. ‘This one has seen me. For that revelation I shall name the price of the power you seek, pup.’
Joshua’s heart was pounding so fast he could barely breathe. What would this thing want? His heart? His soul?
‘No,’ it said, reading his mind. ‘Something far more entertaining. You will rid me of the burden I bear, for it is much like a curse to me.’
‘What burden?’ Joshua asked, confused.
The spirit pointed at the crossroads. ‘There is a dark soul that lies here with me. He gives me no peace and I would have him gone.’ He looked over at Reena, who kept her eyes off him. ‘For the power I will grant her, there will be a horse race. If you win, then you will live. If you lose, all those you hold dear will fall by his sword. Either way, he is gone.’ The Dark Rider tilted his head. ‘Do you agree?’
Joshua’s eyes moved to Reena, but she was already shaking her head. ‘Not a good idea,’ she said.
But what choice did he have? If he said no, Briar was lost.
He pulled his attention back to the spirit. His body shook harder now and it shamed him. ‘You will send both of us into this curse where Briar Rose is being held. You will bring us back once we’ve helped her break it.’
The dark man shook his head and pointed at Reena’s back. ‘This one will send you into the curse and retrieve you. I will only grant her the power to do so. I will not guarantee your safe passage, nor your survival.’
It was a bargain even the devil would have turned down.
‘Joshua, don’t do it!’ Reena said. ‘Not this way. You have no idea—’
‘It’s a deal,’ Joshua cut in. ‘But I’ll race at the time and place I choose.’
‘You dare set terms on me?’ the spirit retorted.
‘Yeah, I do,’ Joshua replied, feeling his courage stir. ‘You want this as much as we do.’
A nod of respect. ‘Indeed. The race must take place before the next full moon, one week hence. If not, you will have no choice but to come to me and pay any price I demand.’
‘Done,’ Joshua said, sweat rolling down his face.
‘The key and the charm are the way into the curse. Your blood must be shed for the power to spark.’ The unholy grin that spread across the spirit’s face made Joshua’s knees weaken. ‘This was too easy. I expected a harder bargain.’
Ripples of chilly laughter echoed around them as the Dark Rider vanished into the night.
Joshua sagged in relief. They had a way to get to Briar. He’d worry about the rest of it later.
Reena grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, hard. ‘Do you know what you just did?’
‘I think so. I’m going to race some . . . thing. I’ll just have to win.’
She shoved him and he staggered backwards a few steps. ‘Why in the hell did you turn round?’
‘I thought he’d hurt you.’
Reena groaned. ‘He was playing with you, and you fell for it. I told you he was a trickster.’
‘Then consider me tricked. We got what we came for – that’s all that matters.’
‘I didn’t intend for you to go into the curse. It’s too dangerous. That is my job.’
‘Not any more,’ he said.
Reena swore under her breath, then waved him forward into a hug, the kind that friends share when they’re scared.
‘You’re an idiot, but you’re an awesome one,’ she said, embracing him.
‘Right back at you,’ he murmured, relieved she wasn’t going to stay mad at him forever.
After they broke apart, Reena retrieved her pendant and pulled it off. Next came a penknife, and she winced as she stuck it in her palm. Wrapping her hand round the small charm, she let her blood mingle with the silver.
Once she was satisfied the charm was properly anointed, she had Joshua do the same. As he trapped the woodsman in his bloody palm, he closed his eyes and thought of Briar. A prickling coursed through him, as if the bracelet had somehow bonded with him.
‘Joshua?’
He blinked open his eyes. It was still dark and they were still in the middle of the road.
‘It didn’t work,’ he said, his panic kicking in.
‘I haven’t done the conjure yet,’ she explained. ‘It’s about four thirty now. I’ll begin the spell in an hour. That should give us time to get home and . . . get ready.’
Now it made sense – she wanted to leave a note for her parents. He should do the same.
Joshua returned the pendant and waited as she began to methodically obliterate the markings in the centre of the road. When Reena had finished, she took hold of his arm.
‘I’ll see you in about an hour,’ she said. ‘Wherever that might be.’
He nodded and then, without thinking, hugged her again.
‘We’ll bring her home,’ he whispered. ‘I promise.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Once the chores were done, Briar had curled up for a nap in the fragrant hay while Ruric shod a horse. When she woke sometime later, the shadows were beginning to lengthen. Ruric sat on a low stool, carving a figure out of wood with sharp flicks of his knife. Briar yawned as she joined him and he smiled up at her, slipping the blade into a scabbard at his waist.
‘You were weary,’ he said. ‘Are you revived now?’ Briar nodded. ‘And hungry?’ She nodded again. ‘I swear, I shall have to inherit a kingdom to feed you, my lady.’
She reached up to tuck a strand of his hair out of the way, and in a flash he caught her arm.
‘You remind me of someone I once cared for. She was . . . very special.’
‘Was?’
‘She died three years ago. Thrown from a horse. I still remember that day,’ he said, his eyes growing distant. ‘I had no way to save her.’
‘How awful. I’m so sorry,’ Briar said. ‘It still hurts, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, I shall always miss her.’
For a second she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he frowned at her wrist. ‘What is that?’ he asked.
‘A . . . charm bracelet.’
‘Do you mean it’s magic?’
‘No, it’s just what we call them.’ When he let loose of her hand, Briar held it up so he could see it better. ‘It has different figures on it. They come from some of our favourite stories. We call them fairy tales.’
‘It is most fetching. Did your family give it to you?’
‘No, it was from this boy I know.’
One of Ruric’s eyebrows rose. ‘I thought you said you had no suitor,’ he teased. ‘A young man who offers such a fine gift is clearly worthy of your affections.’
‘Not really. Joshua is . . .’ How could she explain the whole mess? ‘His family hates me. Well, his mother anyway.’
‘Yet he must have defied his parents to give this gift.’
‘Yeah, he did,’ she said, not trying to hide the smile.
‘Did his family put the curse upon you?’
Ruric had asked the question she’d tried so hard to avoid. Because if his mother or
father had done this to her, that meant Joshua knew about it. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Now I’ve made you sad. I am sorry.’
‘I just don’t understand it all. Why I’m here, how I get home.’ Why I met you.
‘While you’re working all that out, we should find somewhere more comfortable for you than the stable. There is an inn near the main gate. It is decent and the food is good there.’
This isn’t right. ‘I don’t have any money, Ruric. You can’t keep paying for everything.’
‘I’m sure there is some way you can pay me back.’
He didn’t mean . . . When she tensed, he caught it.
Ruric shook his head. ‘Do not think I seek favours of that nature. I can be quite disreputable, but not in this case.’
‘Disreputable? You?’ Briar said, surprised. ‘I don’t see it.’
‘You would be astonished at my churlish behaviour. My father always was.’
‘I still have no money.’
‘We shall find a way for you to earn a living, something honourable. I promise.’
Rogue or not, she’d just have to trust him to keep his word.
As the afternoon moved towards nightfall, it was as if there were two villages: the one that bustled with life during the day and the terrified one that hunkered down in the evening. Briar was used to small towns and how they ‘rolled up the streets’ at sundown – Bliss could be that way sometimes. This wasn’t quite like that. There was an edge of uncertainty, almost dread, in the villagers’ hurried movements. As the sun went down, people began to take shelter indoors. Doors were bolted, shutters locked, at least those on the ground floor. It didn’t matter if it was a business or a house, it was as if the citizens felt they were under siege.
Ruric had done something similar, ensuring that the animals were fed and comfortable, then he’d bolted and locked the stable doors, hanging the large key round his neck, secured to a thick leather cord.
‘You do this every night?’ she asked.
‘No. I usually eat my meal before the curfew, perhaps have a pint of ale and then sleep here if one of the beasts is unwell or unusually skittish. I’m thinking they’ll be fine tonight.’
Always her mother’s child, Briar began to catalogue the negatives. ‘What if there is a fire?’
‘The smithy is nearby and he holds a key to the stable. He will free the animals.’
‘What keeps someone from breaking in and stealing a horse?’
‘No one is out after curfew,’ he said curtly. ‘You well know what that’s like.’
She did indeed. Nevertheless, if something happened to Ruric, she wouldn’t last a day. Briar forced herself to shake off that thought and hustled to catch up with him. Long-legged guys were not always a good thing.
‘I’m taking you to the Inn of the Seven Fools,’ he explained. ‘It’s the best of the lot. Since there are only two inns in the village, that doesn’t say much.’
The Seven Fools was brightly lit, and from the noise issuing from the open door, it was doing a brisk business.
‘I thought you said people weren’t out after curfew.’
‘They won’t be. They’re having one last ale before they head to their hearths.’ Ruric leaned closer. ‘Be cautious. There are spies everywhere and they will willingly sell your secret to the regent. Give them no opportunity to do so.’
Briar nodded her understanding, even more nervous now. As they stepped over the inn’s threshold, the scent of roasted meat and yeasty ale assaulted her nose. Instantly her mouth watered and her stomach growled. More troubling, voices stilled and eyes turned in their direction.
‘Good evening, chandler,’ Ruric said, clapping a pockmarked man on the back. ‘How was trade today?’
The man looked up from his meal. ‘It was fair. And yours?’
‘Not bad. Worth getting out of bed.’
A snort from a nearby table where the reeve studied them with sharp eyes.
‘You have a new mare in your stable that has no owner,’ he said. ‘I’d count your day went very well.’
Ruric’s smile faded. ‘If I were so callous, perhaps. We must remember what it cost that mare’s owner for it to become mine.’
The reeve huffed. ‘I see you still have your cousin tagging after you.’
‘As it should be.’ Ruric gestured for her to join them. ‘Briar, this is John of Leeland, our reeve. John is a man of many talents, most of which involve the consumption of ale.’
A hearty laugh returned. ‘Do not let this young man lead you astray, girl. He has his own vices, though I doubt he will be parading those in front of his cousin.’
Ruric’s good humour faded. ‘Too true. How is the stew tonight?’
‘Good. Worth the coin,’ the man replied.
‘I shall take that as a recommendation.’
Briar was led to a corner table, one with uneven legs, and she found it greasy like everything else in the inn. She gingerly sat on the bench, tucking her feet underneath her skirt.
‘I’ll get us some food,’ Ruric said. ‘Mead or ale?’
Ale didn’t sound that good. ‘Mead’s OK. I’ll deal.’ At his puzzled expression, she added, ‘I’ll make do.’
While Ruric waded back through the crowd towards what seemed to be the bar, Briar checked out the other patrons. There were only three other women in the room, one of whom appeared to be the innkeeper’s wife. Another was sitting with a young man, laughing at something he’d said. At her feet a spotted mongrel gnawed on a bone.
Most of the others were deep in their cups, beyond the point at which they should be drinking. Voices rose as a vigorous argument began between two men as to how bad the winter would be and if there would be adequate hay for the livestock.
It all felt wrong somehow. The patrons’ laughter was forced, often interrupted with glances over shoulders, as if they were unsure of whom to trust – except the reeve, who kept a critical eye on everyone, no doubt to report to his boss. His eyes were on her right now, judging her.
What did he see? Ruric’s cousin or someone who didn’t belong here?
For a brief moment, the bustle of the establishment faded away, as if she were standing outside the curse, looking in. There were the tables and the people and . . . the darkness, the part of the curse that wanted to kill her. It hovered in the corners like mutant shadows, growing stronger, moving closer the longer she was inside the nightmare. There was no place to hide. She would always be the foreign body here, the disease the curse would seek to eradicate. It hadn’t been able to do it when she’d first arrived, so now it was recalculating, looking for weakness. Like a predator stalking its prey.
It was the first time she’d thought of the curse as a sentient thing and it frightened Briar to the core.
As Ruric waited for his food, the third woman sauntered up to him. He smiled as she pulled him into her arms and collected his kiss on a cheek. She whispered something to him, then she gave a pointed look over her shoulder towards Briar, daring her to intervene.
You skank.
The moment she thought it, the fortune teller’s warning came back to her. Briar had to find her prince or she wasn’t getting out of this alive. Was it possible for Ruric to fall in love with her? And did he realize just how much she wanted to kick that girl in the shins?
His admirer was still joking with him, but Briar could tell he wasn’t interested. It was the way he held himself, the way he kept his eyes on her, not the wench.
Why did the curse allow Ruric to save her from the wolves? Wouldn’t it have been smarter to leave her unprotected? Or was there a counter-curse at work here, one that had sent her the fortune teller so she could find a way to survive?
Briar was deep in her thoughts when someone breathed in her face. It wasn’t a good experience. She looked up into two red-rimmed eyes and an overly large crimson nose. The man was so drunk he was lurching around, unable to keep on his feet.
‘You’re a right fair maid,’ he said, grinning.
She smiled back, not sensing any menace.
Ruric returned at just the right moment, jested with the fellow and then made sure he left her alone. Once he’d placed the bowls of stew on the table, he sat down opposite her.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ she asked, following the drunken man’s uneven progress towards the door.
‘Benton lost his son last year. The lad was sure he could break the enchantment so he found a way into the castle and he’s not been seen since. Then Benton’s wife died only a few months later. He has no solace but the drink now.’
That made Briar’s heart ache. This might seem like a fairy tale, but there was no joy here, no happy ever after. It would be the same for her: in time, the curse would crush her. That was its job and it wouldn’t stop until it had fulfilled its prime directive.
Pushing that depressing realization aside, she dug into the stew with a crude wooden spoon. A tentative taste told her it was really good and she began eating at a pace that would have earned her a reprimand from her mother. Ruric didn’t seem to mind, a hint of a smile in place as he addressed his own meal. The dark crusty bread he provided offered the perfect means to soak up the remaining juices at the bottom of the bowl. By the time she’d finished off her meal, her stomach felt as if it would burst.
Briar slowly sipped on the mead. It was less strong than the drink Ruric had given her earlier in the day. Apparently the innkeeper watered his drinks.
‘Better?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure. It would do the family no good to believe I starved you.’ He leaned closer and delicately wiped something off her chin.
Embarrassed, she felt her cheeks warm again. ‘It’s a good thing you’re my cousin,’ she said.
Ruric laughed. ‘Am I that enticing?’
‘You’re . . . nice.’ And handsome and, though you live in a fairytale curse that wants to kill me, you might be my prince. Or maybe not.
‘I’m only nice?’ he said, sounding genuinely offended. ‘How degrading. I am known as a scoundrel in my village, the black sheep of my family, who gambles and drinks and frequents the bordellos. But to you I am only . . . nice.’