The Cursed Crown

by Matthew S. Cox

  “I am sorry for how it came to be that I have this… power.” Kitlyn looked up into the woman’s eyes, trying not to notice her incredibly bare chest. Up close, her amulet appeared to be a tiny sculpture of a dozen dancing fey creatures woven among vines.

  Ilan rested a hand on Kitlyn’s shoulder in a decidedly motherly fashion. “Do not feel regret, child. The powers of the Alderswood cannot be stolen, only given. The great tree trusted you before you were born, and I am overjoyed to see that trust was well placed.”

  Oona stood stiffly beside her, trying not to look at anything. Her cheeks had the cutest amount of pink. Piper and Meredith continued ogling King Lanas. Even among the laborers at the castle, no man she’d ever seen had such prominent—or perfect—muscles.

  “It brings me great joy to have helped restore the Alderswood.” Kitlyn smiled.

  Ilan turned away, pausing briefly to give Oona a warm smile, then approached the dais. “Lanas, must we attend to all this formality? It is purely for their benefit is not? Though they may be royalty, these girls…” She eyed Oona. “Well, perhaps one of them could do without it.”

  The other spiritcallers stood. King Lanas rose to his feet and walked down the roots, the remaining three women following. All four whispered to him once he reached the ground, then trailed off into a grove of trees at the left distant corner of the enclosed courtyard.

  “Very well.” King Lanas walked up to Kitlyn. “As I am sure you are aware, things are not the same here as you may be used to in Lucernia.”

  Kitlyn found herself eye-to-sculpted-pectoral with him. Is this why they made those damnable tilted shoes? She peered up at him, feeling like she’d shrunk back to being twelve. “Thank you for having audience with us, though I would have preferred we met under better circumstances.”

  “Please, join me.” King Lanas gestured at a huge outdoor table that appeared to be a single slice from an enormous tree nearly twenty feet in diameter, and walked over to take a seat in a chair made of woven roots.

  Kitlyn followed, with Oona, Piper, and Meredith close behind. The Lucernian soldiers that had made the journey with them, the coach driver, and a handful of attendants would likely be eating and resting in guest quarters.

  Once everyone took a seat, King Lanas glanced at Kitlyn while rubbing a finger back and forth over his chin. “You have come in response to my letter to officiate the end of hostilities and re-open trade. I have a simple question before we begin. Why has Aodh sent his child in his stead?”

  Kitlyn met his gaze across the table. “Aodh Talomir is dead.”

  Lanas froze, one eyebrow up.

  The spiritcallers, even from some forty feet away, all stopped talking and glanced in her direction. For a moment, only the soft whisper of wind in the unusually green leaves around them broke the stillness.

  “Dead…” said Lanas.

  “Yes.” Kitlyn steeled herself, managing to speak without much emotion, as if discussing historical events from some other kingdom. “For his deceit and betrayal of Lucen, the temple planned to strip him of his title as high priest and excommunicate him. Lucen himself had abandoned him. His gift to bear light and witness truth no longer heeded his call. Rather than suffer that humiliation, he sent himself to Tenebrea.”

  Lanas shifted his jaw side to side. “At one time, he had been a good friend. It pains me to see how far he had fallen, but it shows the sort of man he was not to be able to face me again.”

  Prince Ralen glanced at Oona, enlightenment dawning in his eyes. “Oh, forgive me… You are no longer Princess Kitlyn.”

  She smiled at him. “Please forgive me for neglecting to send a wedding invitation… everything went by in a rush.”

  “A wedding?” asked Lanas, both eyebrows up. “So I am speaking with the Queen of Lucernia?”

  “Queens, I’d wager,” said Ralen, grinning.

  Oona opened her mouth, closed it, hesitated a second more, then said, “I am technically the Queen Consort.”

  “At the moment,” muttered Kitlyn.

  “Allow me to express my condolences on the loss of your father.” Ralen bowed again.

  “You needn’t suffer the pretense,” said Oona in a gentle tone. “He was not the man I thought I knew.”

  “He was not a man I knew at all.” Kitlyn looked down at her lap, fidgeting at her gloves.

  Ralen pursed his lips in thought, then relaxed. “I can feel sympathy for a daughter while simultaneously finding no great sense of sorrow in her father’s passing. Truly, it surprises me to hear the two of you speak of his death as though you welcome it.”

  “I neither welcome nor regret what had to happen.” Kitlyn gazed off at the castle grounds, alive with trees. “I can only mourn the time we will not have, but this man squandered the time we were given. What he did to me pales in comparison with the suffering he has caused to Evermoor and to our own citizenry. I cannot even consider my personal feelings in light of that.”

  “Your feelings matter, too, your majesty,” said Ralen.

  Ilan broke away from the spiritcallers and approached the table to stand beside Lanas. “It is as they say. Aodh wanders the Banefallow.”

  What? How… he’s not from Evermoor, nor did he die here. How could he possibly have gone there? Thinking of that boy, Kem, talking about the place—where souls constantly fled from ravening wolves only to be caught, devoured, and reawaken to do it over and over again—made her shudder.

  Oona blinked.

  “Very well.” Lanas smiled up at Ilan.

  They exchanged a smoldering, long stare obvious enough that Oona squirmed and blushed.

  Ralen either didn’t notice the way his parents looked at each other, or it didn’t bother him.

  Once Ilan walked off to rejoin the other spiritcallers, King Lanas drummed his fingers on the giant table. “I do recognize that you personally had nothing to do with this war other than bringing about its end, yet there remains the matter of the war stemming from an act of Lucernian aggression.”

  “I understand that and do not dispute it. My father stole from you something terribly vital to the existence of this entire land.”

  “It would only be appropriate for Lucernia to offer reparations.”

  Kitlyn nodded once. “I have come prepared to discuss such offers, yes.” She thought back on hours of discussions with Beredwyn, Advisor Lanon, and High Priest Balais regarding what would constitute fair sums. If the king demanded significantly more, she would request he write things down and return home to confer with them.

  The next hour or so drowned in an increasingly tense back-and-forth of requests, demands, and more than a few off-the-hip zingers from both sides. Whenever Kitlyn started to grow heated, Oona would politely cut in and try to soothe both of them. Piper shrank in on herself, continuing to hide her face behind her hair. Meredith—after about forty minutes—finally ceased staring at Lanas’ bare chest.

  A handful of men and women freely approached offering water and snacks. Kitlyn couldn’t think of them as servants since they behaved more like the staff at a tavern.

  After another back and forth quibbling the finer points of gold coins per casualty, Lanas’ pervasive reinforcement of everything being Lucernia’s fault finally tweaked a sensitive nerve.

  “Don’t forget you sent assassins after me for sixteen years because of a bunch of old men addled out of their minds on dreamstem. Who tries to have an infant assassinated?”

  “Someone who believed that one death would save tens of thousands of lives,” said Lanas, irritatingly calm.

  “She could have destroyed Evermoor, and didn’t. She confronted the Timeless Watchers.” Prince Ralen gestured at her, smiling.

  Kitlyn spun her head toward him so fast her crown nearly flew off. “I did not confront them. I conversed with them. And no, I most certainly could not have destroyed Evermoor.”

  “Kit…” Oona gave her the ‘please calm down’ stare.

  She took a long breath. “While I may have possessed the
kind of magic necessary to destroy the land from the Alderswood grove, it is absolutely beyond me to do something so cruel.”

  “Father,” said Ralen. “You sought revenge on Aodh. Well-deserved revenge in fact. However, he is dead. Lucernia has two young queens who are not only guiltless for the war, but directly brought about its end and the restoration of the Alderswood. Their kingdom has had its faith in their Lord of Light shaken. As capable a leader as Queen Talomir is, she is still young. Younger even than I, and has the task of holding a fractured kingdom together.”

  “Perhaps you should take pity on the girl for her father’s crimes.” Lady Naena appeared behind Lanas as if out of nowhere, her flowing voice washing over the table with a near magical clarity and volume. An unusual sense of calmness settled over everyone in the wake of her words. “The blade is drenched. I see little need to twist it.”

  “Very well.” Lanas bowed his head. “I conditionally agree to your terms, though let us officiate it in writing after a night of food and rest. For now, we shall no longer burden our minds with negotiations or dark thoughts.”

  Kitlyn eased back into her seat. “That is most kind of you, King Lanas.”

  He flashed a fey smile. “I am once again myself. Come, let us eat, drink, and savor the wind and sky.” King Lanas faced a group of castle staff, and clapped twice.

  They sprang into motion, hurrying off into the hallway nearby.

  “Make yourself as comfortable as you like.” Lanas smiled and briefly bowed his head. “I shall return in a moment.” With that, he strolled over to where the spiritcallers lounged among the grove.

  Oona looked over at her. “Now what?”

  “You’re asking me?” Kitlyn took her hand. “You’re the one with practice at being a royal.”

  “Perhaps, though I have never once visited Evermoor. The traditions here are”—she glanced toward the spiritcallers and blushed again—“unusual. If we go to Ondar, I… wouldn’t really remember much but how people in the north spoke strange and I spent the entire time sulking.”

  Ralen chuckled. “The simplest advice I am able to offer you would be to forget those crowns upon your heads and consider yourselves among friends.”

  Friends… I’ve spent my entire life thinking of Evermoor’s citizens as demonic. There have been too many lies. Too much deceit. It is far past time for change and I do so hate this pageantry. Kitlyn looked around at the delicate, almost elven architecture, then smiled at him. “All right. Friends.”

  9

  Another World

  Oona

  Confusion lasted only a short while before a stream of people entered carrying casks of ale, ewers of wine, bowls of breads, and several long tables. Oona remained in her seat at the huge ‘slice of tree’ table, watching the workers set up the trappings of a feast. She couldn’t quite settle on how to feel about King Volduin after his sudden change from wanting her dead so badly he’d been willing to declare his son a traitor, to the reasonably friendly man presently conversing with four shirtless women.

  She would have been studying him, trying to read his intentions, but decided not to look in that direction. He hadn’t struck her as deceitful at all during the tedious negotiations. His pressing for increasing advantage did, to Ralen’s point, feel as if he sought to somehow punish Aodh rather than seek justified reparations.

  Piper continued to keep her head down while Meredith gazed about with curiosity at the frenzy of activity. King Volduin walked off down a side hallway, leaving the spiritcallers to continue talking among themselves. He returned after a few minutes, leading the group of Lucernian soldiers and coachmen into the courtyard, a jovial smile on his face.

  Oona leaned toward Ralen. “It is difficult to see that man as the same one who wanted me dead and ordered his men to arrest you. I… could never imagine our former king going off to fetch visitors himself.”

  “I’ve been told that before the war, he was quite a merry sort of person.” Ralen saluted her with a wine goblet. “Mother says he is much like his old self now.”

  “Are those women his wives?” asked Kitlyn in a near whisper.

  “That would be the simplest way to describe their relationship to someone from Lucernia.” Ralen took a long sip.

  “Why does he have four?” asked Oona.

  Ralen chuckled. “Because they choose to be with him, and he with them. Aina and Gerya are rather fond of each other as well.”

  That’s not exactly what I asked, but… it does seem to be the simplest answer. She decided to change the subject and got into an idle conversation with Ralen about his childhood here. To hear him talk, he’d grown up much the way she imagined a woodsman’s son might—running about most of the day in the woods, untamed, going wherever whim took him. Upon entering his teen years, his father taught him the art of the sword, tracking, riding, and various worldly skills as well as what he learned from his mother regarding the magical aspects of Evermoor. Ralen mentioned rather in passing that his father was a bladeborn, which made Oona smile. The prince still tried to deny he had the gift, though after having watched him fight, she felt certain he did.

  King Lanas and the spiritcallers joined them at the large table while the rest of the Lucernian entourage took seats nearby at the long, rectangular tables. Oona tried not to blush too hard with four topless women across from her. Somehow, Kitlyn already appeared unfazed by their lack of modesty. Meredith kept sneaking glances at the shirtless king.

  Castle workers brought out huge bowls of vegetables prepared in small bundles, whole roast chickens, hams, drumsticks, trays of small things that appeared to be golden brown bread loaves the size of fists, and plates of cheese.

  Pleasant conversation continued over a copious dinner, as though they had not been previously discussing matters of war-torn kingdoms with the man who had been an enemy for twenty years. That thought again made Oona think about how oddly young he and his ‘wives’ all appeared to be. It made sense that if they had some connection to the magic within the Alderswood keeping their bodies youthful, they would have been affected more strongly by the absence of the Heart. The king also had perhaps the biggest muscles she’d ever seen as well as towering height.

  He could’ve ended the war himself if he’d walked over the Arch of the Ancients.

  Much of the food, including the salad, had been prepared in such a way as to be amenable to hand eating. It seemed the people of Evermoor didn’t have much love for forks or knives. Kitlyn and Piper dove right in, unconcerned with using their bare hands to eat. Oona started off hesitant, but it didn’t take long for her hunger to overpower decorum especially when surrounded by dozens of people all eating that way. The small ‘breads’ turned out to be a kind of baked dumpling with a meat stuffing that reminded her of stew with strong but pleasant spices. Meredith hesitated the longest before picking up food without a fork.

  Once the sun finally set, glowing orbs of yellow light appeared at random around the courtyard and drifted in lazy paths like living—or magical—lanterns carrying themselves around. They made her little blue one seem tiny by comparison, but didn’t glow anywhere near as brightly. However, well more than twenty of them glided around, providing plenty of light.

  The king lost himself on a tangent after a few cups of wine and rambled at length about how he and Aodh had once wandered off into the Ebonwolf Shire in search of a dryad. He took great humor in his friend not believing such creatures existed.

  “And when we finally spotted one, he turned scarlet in the face.” King Volduin laughed, gleefully describing Aodh’s discomfort at them encountering a wood nymph.

  Oona’s cheeks grew warmer and warmer as the Evermoor king described her former not-quite-father’s progressively greater embarrassment as the small woman with glowing green eyes and nothing but leaves and vines to wear approached them. He proceeded to poke fun at Aodh’s strange notion of ‘purity’ relating to an innocent being that would shed tears over the death of an ant somehow being impure for not having cl
othes.

  Gerya, one of the spiritcallers, nudged him and whisper-scolded him for making Oona uncomfortable. Being caught blushing and fidgeting only embarrassed her more, which made Aina and Ilan look away to avoid laughing. Lucen’s gift allowed her to understand they regarded her as adorable and didn’t wish to make her uncomfortable.

  Eventually, musicians and dancers drifted out of the shadows and proceeded to act out a dramatic production. Oona watched the dancers’ performance with half a hand over her eyes, as the ones portraying elves had garments similar to those of the spiritcallers: gauzy skirts made from multiple layers of leaf-shaped panels and nothing on above the waist.

  The story told of elves entrusting the care of a magical seed to a human who had been keenly in tune with nature. She soon figured this story likely entailed the planting of Alderswood and perhaps how the nation of Evermoor came to be. She almost thought of it as their ‘creation myth’ as the former king would’ve referred to it, but after witnessing Kitlyn’s magic, that didn’t feel right. It made her wonder what relationship Lucen, Navissa, Orien, and Tenebrea had with other kingdoms. Perhaps gods like them simply chose an area of land to consider their domain. Or, maybe, they focused primarily on the people instead of geography. It’s not as though Lucen would abandon her the instant she crossed the border. She pondered if Ondar’s reverence for the Steelfather might be more than simple reverence for a skilled blacksmith.

  Once the theater play ended, the courtyard became an unusually casual gathering of people standing or sitting around sharing drinks and talking. King Volduin excused himself from the table, encouraging Kitlyn and Oona to wander about and be social. He and the spiritcallers drifted around, falling into easy conversations with everyone from the people refilling drinks to guardsmen, to Evermoor commoners who had simply walked in.