The Cursed Crown

by Matthew S. Cox

  More, louder murmurs of agreement came from the crowd.

  Oona glanced over with a ‘what is he doing?’ stare.

  Is this a wedding or a political speech? Kitlyn tightened her grip on Beredwyn for balance.

  Sensing her confusion, Balais made eye contact with her and offered a knowing nod.

  “For as long as everyone here has walked the land, it has been our belief that purity had a certain definition. The teachings of Lucen require purity in thought, in deed, and in word. And we… humans, took that in a certain way.” Balais raised his hands over Oona and Kitlyn. “I have seen a form of purity that many in the kingdom would struggle to accept. The love our queen has for this young woman is the very definition of purity.”

  Kitlyn’s eyes widened. Oona squeezed her hand.

  Mixed murmuring came from the crowd.

  “Ask yourselves.” Balais swept an arm across at the crowd. “Look inside. For the past twenty years, most of us believed those in Evermoor had been taken with demons based solely on the word of one man. We priests are human, as are you. We are subject to flaws, and can only do our best to follow Lucen’s teachings.”

  The red-haired priestess and the priest beside Balais both appeared shocked. Never had anyone—especially a priest—spoken in such a way, implying that the priesthood could be anything but infallible, their words as if from Lucen’s lips.

  “These past two decades have been a difficult lesson. I believe Lucen meant to show us that we must seek his truth from inside more than outside. While he has chosen us as priests to bear his light to the kingdom, he has welcomed all of you as his children as well. As you set aside the deceit you were fed in regard to Evermoor, set aside the deceit you were fed regarding the love our queen has for this woman.”

  Evie clapped, stirring another ripple of soft chuckles from the crowd.

  With that, the high priest took a step back and raised his hands. “Great Lucen, we call upon you to witness this day a declaration of love and commitment.” A standing column of white fire formed in front of him, roughly a foot wide and as tall as the ceiling. It gave off no heat, only light and a tingling sense of awe.

  The room fell silent.

  Balais nodded to Kitlyn.

  She released her right arm from Beredwyn’s and extended her hand into the column up to the wrist.

  “Queen Kitlyn Talomir.” Balais raised his hand toward her, fingers spread. “You come before Lucen on this day to make a declaration of eternity.”

  “I, Kitlyn Talomir, state before Lucen and all who are here to witness, that I offer myself in eternal commitment and eternal love to Oona.” She hesitated a second. “Baroness Oona of Gwynaben.”

  Balais leaned around the flaming column to quirk an eyebrow at the congregation. “Truly a monumental occasion. We bear witness today to a royal marriage based on love.”

  Another murmur of chuckling emanated from the crowd.

  He raised his other arm outstretched toward Oona.

  Still holding Kitlyn’s hand, she extended her free left hand into the shifting white flames. “I, Oona, no family name, state before Lucen and all here to witness… I love Kitlyn with everything inside me, for eternity. I could no sooner live without her than without air to breathe or water to drink.”

  A lump swelled in Kitlyn’s throat. She stared at their hands, nearly touching within the flames, their other hands clasped tightly between them. Such silence fell over the cathedral that Evie’s soft humming filled the room. In seconds, they would withdraw their hands from the fire. Lucen would show the truth of their love by allowing them to hold a small bit of flame. If either hand came out empty, it would reveal a lie. Kitlyn had no doubt of Oona’s—or her own—feelings, but couldn’t help worry some external force might cause trouble.

  “Let Lucen declare their hearts,” said Balais.

  Kitlyn and Oona turned to face each other, still with one hand extended in the column. Oona’s eyes sparkled with adoration and anticipation. They withdrew their hands at the same time, both enshrouded in brilliant white flames. When they raised their burning hands over their heads, a deafening cheer rose up from the crowd—along with a few shocked gasps. Grinning at each other, they brought their glowing hands together between them, gazing into the white-blue fire. A tingle spread over Kitlyn from head to toe, exhilaration at such a tangible show of Lucen’s approval. She burst into silent tears of joy.

  In accordance with custom, they raised their fiery hands and pressed them to each other’s chests, the magical flame seeping into their hearts—or at least appearing to.

  Balais lowered his arms and the column of fire dissipated. “By Lucen’s light, I hereby declare you duly wed in the eyes of the gods, and of the kingdom. Queen Kitlyn Talomir, and Lady Oona Talomir, Queen’s Consort, Baroness of Gwynaben.”

  Kitlyn shrank a little inside at the lower title, though Oona didn’t show any sign of caring whatsoever.

  “You may kiss the bride,” said Balais.

  “Which one are you speakin’ to?” called a random man in the crowd.

  A few people chuckled.

  “Both of them!” shouted Evie.

  Oona’s face went scarlet.

  Kitlyn’s cheeks burned.

  For how long had they both been terrified of being caught? Kitlyn thought of the moment after they’d left the orphanage when she’d nearly kissed her right in front of the guardsmen, out in the street where anyone could see. How could she possibly kiss Oona in front of a massive crowd?

  Oona lifted Kitlyn’s veil.

  The room, the crowd, the priests, everything dissolved from her awareness—except for Oona.

  Her hands faintly shaking, Kitlyn reached up and lifted the veil away from Oona’s face. Her heart pounded in her ears, her palms practically dripped with sweat. The already tight corset became a vicelike crushing force that refused to let any air into her chest.

  “Are we really about to do this?” whispered Oona, smiling.

  “I think we are.” Kitlyn grinned nervously.

  She leaned forward—and lost her balance on the damnable heels.

  Oona caught her, spinning into an embrace and a kiss that looked far more elegant than Kitlyn felt. She whipped her hand up to catch her crown before it could fall off and bounce, clanging down the stone steps. Oona pressed her lips into Kitlyn’s, but didn’t kiss her as much as tried not to laugh. A vague sense of cheering entered her awareness despite being petrified at any minute they’d be dragged away from each other and screamed at for being abominations.

  Crown repositioned and balance recovered, Kitlyn kissed Oona for real.

  Balais patting them lightly on the shoulders broke the spell a moment later.

  Kitlyn wobbled upright with help from Oona and Beredwyn.

  “Go now, and lead Lucernia with Lucen’s blessing.”

  Within a second of them turning together to face the crowd, the rear doors slammed open—revealing Fauhurst.

  The former advisor had the disheveled appearance of a street vagrant, still in the same robes he’d been wearing when the girls had returned from Evermoor and Kitlyn had nearly torn down the castle. He pointed at them and screamed an incoherent drunken diatribe.

  “I’d been wondering where that one got off to,” said Beredwyn with a raised eyebrow.

  “Aye. A right mess.” Guard Captain Lorne gestured in Fauhurst’s direction.

  Furious, Kitlyn drew back her hand, which erupted in an aura of green light.

  Three soldiers near the entrance rushed at Fauhurst, but he whirled away and ran off.

  Oona blinked at her. “Don’t!”

  “What?” Kitlyn relaxed her magic and lowered her arm. “I was merely going to knock him out.”

  “Do not waste another moment of thought on that man.” Oona took her hand again. “We have more important things to worry about.”

  Kitlyn sighed.

  “No. Running the kingdom can wait. I was more thinking of those… things my mother so feared
we had already done.”

  Again, Kitlyn’s cheeks ran with heat. “Oh…”

  “Alas…” Oona stared down, faking sadness while swaying side to side. “We have hours of socializing and merriment ahead of us before we can escape together.”

  “Oh, the horror.” Kitlyn wobbled. “The instant we are out of this cathedral, I will rid myself of these awful things strapped to my feet.”

  Oona took her arm, supporting her as they eased themselves down the stairs to the aisle. “You will be fine with a little practice. Certainly walking in formal shoes is not as difficult as fulfilling a foretelling.”

  “No, it is more so.”

  Oona laughed.

  Warmth spread over Kitlyn’s chest at the beautiful sound. “I love your laugh.”

  “Well…” Oona tapped a finger to her lips. “With all that mess behind us now, I dare say you shall be hearing much more of it.”

  Kitlyn grinned.

  Arm in arm—Kitlyn clinging to Oona to stay upright—they hurried down the aisle toward the cathedral exit under a pelting of flower petals.

  7

  Matters of Royalty

  Oona

  Late that night after hours of festivities, Oona walked with Kitlyn down the curving royal hall. Her love appeared noticeably shorter. She’d ditched her heels and hose within moments of arriving at the grand hall. As she predicted, no one noticed her going barefoot under the massive wedding gown. Servants had spent the preceding week moving the majority of their things into the master bedroom, and a few hours earlier during the wedding reception arranging the rest of it.

  Oona turned her head, staring at the door to her old bedroom on the way past it. It felt strange not to go in there, or to think of that as not being her room anymore. Of course, as much of a sanctuary as it had been at times, it had often felt like a prison—and it did remind her of the night an assassin got in. She heaved a mental sigh and glanced away. Her life had been full of leaving things behind as of late. Her old room, childhood, the security of thinking she had a father to take care of her… but also, she’d left behind her worry that she would have to kill thousands of people, marry Prince Lanwick, the war in general, and even the bratty streak she didn’t realize she’d had until she no longer did.

  “Feels like we’re doing something wrong,” whispered Kitlyn.

  Oona gasped.

  “No, not being alone together… or that.” Kitlyn grinned. “I mean going into this room.”

  “Oh. Yes. I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before.” She swallowed. “Well, except for that one night when we searched for him.”

  Kitlyn braced a hand on the door and pushed.

  “Umm. Your highness,” said Oona in a joking tone. “These doors go outward.”

  “Ugh. I’m so tired.” She grasped an ornate ring and pulled one of the thick double doors open, the hinges emitting a low creak. “I barely slept last night… or the several nights before that.”

  “Nor did I.”

  “You don’t look at all ready to pass out.” Kitlyn blinked at her.

  Oona followed her into the room and tugged the door shut. The sight of large brackets on the inside for a heavy bar reminded her the room had been built to protect against assassins or invading soldiers. It didn’t reassure her as much as make her again feel like a target. “I’ve had a few years’ practice at staying awake half the night. It’s much more pleasant to lose sleep to anticipation rather than dread.”

  “Yes.” Kitlyn trudged over and stood beside the bed. “Where are Meredith and Piper?”

  “It’s our wedding night,” said Oona.

  “So?” asked Kitlyn.

  “Oh, wow… you are exhausted.” Oona grinned, walking up behind her.

  “Wait, we’re married?”

  Oona blinked in shock until Kitlyn started laughing. She gazed around at the huge room, feeling a bit too much like a child about to be scolded for invading her father’s chambers. Of course, the man had gone to Tenebrea, and the room did technically belong to them now. Some of the décor had changed, a few paintings that had been in Oona’s room brightened it a bit. The former king had been somber since the loss of his wife, and had servants remove most of the decoration.

  “Help me out of this bothersome thing then, will you?” asked Kitlyn.

  “Yes, your highness.” Oona fake curtseyed.

  Kitlyn sigh-laughed.

  Oona undid the lacing at the back, and piece-by-piece, peeled her out from the incredibly elaborate wedding gown, setting each section on the nearby table. Most likely, the gowns would wind up on mannequins in a case somewhere. She wondered if someday, as an older woman, she might find herself gazing upon it while wondering how she’d ever fit in it. Then again, Margaret remained quite thin despite being older.

  “So you’ve really never been in here?” Oona tugged the last bit of outer dress off over Kitlyn’s head. “You must’ve been when you were a wee thing.”

  Kitlyn shrugged. “I suppose. I’ve no idea if my mother tended to me herself or left me in the care of nannies. Everything anyone’s ever said about her hasn’t been terribly nice.”

  “My turn.” Oona placed the gown on the table.

  She clutched the bedpost for stability while Kitlyn undid the laces. The process felt so much smoother, since she had done it many times before for ‘Princess Oona.’ Once the bulk of her dress landed on a divan, Oona stepped out of her high heels and spent a moment sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing her calves.

  Kitlyn stared at her, cheeks gradually increasing in redness.

  “It’s not like we haven’t seen each other undressed before.” Oona shoved her underpinnings down, kicking them away, leaving only her smallclothes on below the waist.

  “Things are different now,” said Kitlyn.

  “Things have been different for a few years, haven’t they?”

  Kitlyn nodded. “Yes, but that’s not what I mean… I mean we can do things now and no one will lose their minds.”

  “Oh, some will.” Oona smirked. “But it’s no longer improper. We are well and duly wed.” She winked. “And, dare I say we’re expected to do certain things tonight.”

  Kitlyn gingerly removed her underpinnings and slip. Oona pulled off her slip. They stared at each other in only a bra and smallclothes for a long moment.

  “This is real, isn’t it?” asked Kitlyn.

  “Yes. My heart is about to leap from my chest.” Oona smiled, and curled her finger around her bra. “Shall I?”

  “Allow me…” Kitlyn leaned in and kissed her.

  A brush of cold air swam over Oona’s chest as her bra came away. She shuddered in anticipation, then reached up and removed Kitlyn’s. It had been more than a while since she’d seen the entirety of Kitlyn, since princesses did not attend to their handmaidens in the bath. They hadn’t shared a tub since soon before those feelings stirred within her.

  Kitlyn glanced off to the side, biting her lower lip as Oona ran her hands over her sides, snagging the band of her smallclothes and pulling them down. After, Oona stood and let Kitlyn do the same, shivering with excitement.

  They regarded each other, bare as the day they’d been born. Oona’s heart swelled with love—and total cluelessness as to where to go next.

  Kitlyn kept glancing away.

  “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you looking at me?” Oona caressed Kitlyn’s cheek.

  “It’s not that.” She met her stare, still blushing. “A thought has plagued me since this afternoon I simply cannot dislodge. It devours me.”

  “What is it?”

  “What Balais said earlier made me wonder if it is wise to concentrate so much power in a single person. The mere notion of kings and queens leaves too much opportunity for evil. My father proved how much damage giving so much power to one person can cause.” She looked down at Oona’s body and blinked a few times, distracted.

  “Can we perhaps talk of this in the morning?” Oona smiled. “That is an interesting worry, b
ut this is our night.” She gingerly set a hand on Kitlyn’s hip, the skin surprisingly warm to the touch.

  Kitlyn gasped. “Your hands are cold.” She grasped Oona’s hip, sending warmth shooting up and down. “You are cold.”

  “Oh, heavens. I seem to have misplaced all my clothing.”

  Kitlyn laughed.

  Oona sat on the edge of the bed and pulled at Kitlyn, who fell seated beside her.

  “I dislike our rigid social structure as well. Is it true that the servants in Ondar are treated as equals? What if we abolished classes?”

  Oona sighed and glanced down at her pale legs. “You shouldn’t try to change too much too fast or people will not like it.”

  “Yes, I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t vent about it.”

  “Can you vent about it in the morning?” asked Oona.

  “I’m sorry.” Kitlyn put an arm around her. “I’m stalling because I’m nervous.”

  “I know.” Oona smiled. “It’s rather obvious.”

  “I’ve been dreaming of this moment for so long… and now that it’s here, I don’t understand why I’m frightened.”

  Oona scooted back onto the bed, pulling Kitlyn to lay beside her. “Are you afraid of this or afraid that you’ll wake up?”

  “Wake up. I’ve never been this happy before in my entire life… except maybe that day when we first met and played in the field. It still feels like we’re getting away with something being alone together.”

  “So…” Oona reached over and caressed Kitlyn’s cheek. “Let us do something we can get away with.”

  8

  Armistice

  Kitlyn

  Autumnal trees drifted by on both sides of the road, accompanied by the clamor of multiple horses and the rattle of armor. Kitlyn still glowed from the events of her wedding night despite it being nearly a week ago. Neither she nor Oona had much of any idea how to go about consummating a marriage, but they both gave it a rather spirited try… and repeated said spirited try every night since—except for twice when Evie had been too frightened by the vastness of Oona’s former room to sleep alone.