The Cursed Crown

by Matthew S. Cox

  More and more people who appeared to be townsfolk from Ivendar arrived, as though the king’s castle had become a local tavern where anyone could come and go as they pleased. Oona couldn’t quite reconcile such a concept, and emitted a startled gasp when Kitlyn took her hand.

  “Shall we make our way around? That is what we are expected to do at social events? I’m still not entirely sure how to be a royal.”

  Oona grinned. “This is hardly a royal function… or the court. Though I suppose we ought not to be rude.”

  Upon seeing Piper looking frightened and sad, Oona leaned close. “What’s wrong?”

  The girl indicated her empty plate. “I haven’t had this sort of food in a long time. It reminded me of my parents. And I still fear someone may recognize me.”

  “Come, then. Stay with us and no one shall bother you.” Oona took her hand.

  The three of them wandered into the courtyard. She let Kitlyn lead as the official queen. Despite having been at the coronation, it still seemed like everything had happened to someone else. She couldn’t think of Kitlyn as a queen, nor herself as a queen’s wife. Kitlyn still felt like Kitlyn, albeit in nicer clothing. Somewhere between trying to hide under a blanket from an assassin and strolling back in the gates of Castle Cimril to demand the Heart, Oona had ceased being a child.

  Going from twelve to sixteen had been a blur of fear and relative captivity. She so dreaded the foretelling that she hadn’t much felt at all like a child—despite having acted like one. Of course, she could allow herself some small measure of sorrow at what had been taken from her without dwelling endlessly on it. Many people suffered as a result of the war, most more than her, but that didn’t lessen the pain and terror she had felt most every night.

  Nothing for it but to move on, learn, and grow from it. She squeezed Kitlyn’s hand. I would endure it a hundred times again to have her beside me.

  Peasants, merchants, nobles, and castle workers all drifted by to talk with Kitlyn and Oona. Though, she found it somewhat difficult to tell the moneyed from the normal people except for a handful of men and women in obviously finer clothing that consisted of airy robe-like garments that made her think of writings she’d read of elves. Though no one here appeared anything more than human. Quite a few, like Piper, had delicate features and slender bodies, but not the least bit of pointedness in their ears.

  Perhaps the fey spirit comes from the tree instead of an ancestor?

  “By Carros!” said a man. “It’s you.”

  Oona whirled to her left. A man of average height with broad shoulders and silvery hair hurried up to Kitlyn, his expression a mixture of surprise and amusement. At his rapid approach, Piper pressed herself into Oona’s side, half hiding from him.

  “Hello,” replied Kitlyn.

  “You’re radiant.” The man offered a polite bow. “Quite a bit different from the last time I saw ya. Queen, wot?”

  Oona glanced between them, eyebrow raised.

  “Yes. It is me. And yes, apparently, I’ve wound up with this crown on my head. Not exactly the sort of thing I had ever planned on.”

  “Aye. Awful business, the lot of it. My condolences on your father, such as they are.” The man nodded at her.

  Kitlyn’s eyes hardened ever so slightly. “Thank you. I understand your feelings toward him and do not fault you for them. In fact, some of them, I share.”

  “Never would have imagined who ya were.” He scratched his head, chuckling. “Neither you bein’ from Lucernia or bein’ the one we all thought’d end us all. I admire the courage you had settin’ foot in Evermoor.”

  We didn’t have much choice in that. Oona rubbed a hand up and down Piper’s back, distracting herself from making sour faces by comforting the girl.

  “I hadn’t exactly expected to. Going to Evermoor wasn’t my choice, but I refused to leave without Oona. And, I’d only recently learned I was the heir… and hadn’t quite convinced myself of it as truth when we met.”

  “You know this man?” asked Oona.

  “Forgive me.” He bowed. “Nalmas Ourin. Lady Kitlyn mended a broken statue at my inn.”

  “Oh!” Oona relaxed, remembering the story her love shared in a fire-lit sitting room a night or two after their return to the castle. At the time Kitlyn ate chicken in that inn, she would’ve been in Ralen’s dungeon unsure what had happened to her. A twinge of pain encircled her wrists for a fleeting instant. She closed her eyes and thanked Lucen for keeping her safe while roaming a land full of people who wanted her dead.

  “Well met, Nalmas Ourin.” Oona almost curtseyed but stopped herself, thinking a queen consort probably ought not to curtsey to an innkeeper.

  “I hope she is still intact.” Kitlyn smiled.

  “Aye.” Nalmas grinned. “And I’m happy to see you are in good health as well. The peasant act had me fooled.”

  “Ehh.” She sighed. “It wasn’t really an act at the time. I grew up thinking myself an orphan and servant with no station.”

  “Her own father wouldn’t even speak to her,” added Piper. “They treated her so cruelly… yet they thought w—the people of Evermoor to be savages.”

  Nalmas shook his head. “Much ill came of that war. Glad it’s over, and we’ve you two to thank for it. Not that I expect you’ll ever find yer way ta Dorwick again, but if ye do, I’d be glad to prove ya a proper meal.”

  “If the chance arises, I’d enjoy that.” Kitlyn smiled.

  Nalmas bowed at them both and excused himself to wander among the partygoers.

  “I find it most… fascinating that ordinary citizens simply walk into the king’s court and freely approach the royals.” Oona stood on her toes to peer over people at Ralen chatting with a number of… possibly merchants.

  “Things are different here,” said Kitlyn.

  Oona glanced at an approaching figure, which turned out to be Gerya, one of the spiritcallers, and hastily looked away. “Evidently.”

  Kitlyn giggled.

  “How is it you are not mortified at watching them traipse about so?” whispered Oona.

  She shrugged. “It is how they are. I think Lucernia worries too much about a person’s outside and too little about the inside.”

  “Oh, shall we fling off our dresses then?” asked Oona in a whisper, blushing harder.

  Piper snickered while Meredith nearly fainted.

  “I think that would be a grand idea,” said Kitlyn.

  Oona’s jaw hung open.

  Piper stared at her with an expression of ‘you’re not serious,’ but also a hint of amusement.

  Kitlyn winked. “But not right this moment.”

  Meredith fanned herself.

  For the next hour or so, they mingled with dozens of people who all wished to see them in person and thank them for saving Evermoor. A few even apologized for wishing ill on her due to the misinterpretation of the foretelling.

  Eventually, Ralen reemerged from the crowd and walked up to them. “Ahh, there you are. My mother tells me the two of you are quite tired and eager to retire for the night.”

  Oona blinked and glanced at Kitlyn. She didn’t appear that tired, though Oona couldn’t deny wanting to crawl into bed. Between riding in a coach for most of the day, the negotiation process, and the sudden, unexpected party late into the night, she might not even have the energy to do much more than sleep once they arrived in a bedchamber.

  “How?” asked Kitlyn.

  Ralen chuckled. “My mother knows things… She also knew you would not be a threat to us. Though, I confess to perhaps not fully believing her. Some of what she claims to know does sound rather outlandish at times.”

  “In this case, your mother is correct. We have had a long ride today.” Kitlyn stifled a yawn. “As grateful as I am for the hospitality of this banquet, it is a battle keeping my eyes open.”

  Oona nodded.

  “Come then.” Ralen waved his left arm toward a hallway with a beckoning gesture, then headed off.

  Oona walked at Kitl
yn’s side behind him. Piper and Meredith followed close. Ralen led them past a series of turns to a hallway with five large, ornate doors that appeared to be made of thick roots grown into a solid slab of wood. All depicted dryad-like creatures, slender elf-like people only half the height of a man.

  “This is our finest guest room.” Ralen opened the door and walked into a large chamber with a fireplace and a great green rug that resembled moss. Their trunk had already been brought inside and left at the foot end of the enormous bed. He headed over to a small stone shelf between the bed and fireplace where a fist-sized blue glass orb sat in a thin metal holder. “If you require any sort of assistance, tap this crystal.”

  “Thank you.” Kitlyn yawned.

  Prince Ralen indicated a small door to the left of the entrance they’d come through. “That is a connecting passage to an adjoining room your handmaidens may use.”

  Oona smiled.

  “May Carros watch over your rest,” said Ralen, before excusing himself and pulling the door shut behind him.

  Oona stood there like a dressmaker’s dummy while Piper undid her lacing. Kitlyn squirmed and struggled, taking a more animated role in her liberation from the gown she’d spent the entire day in. Once the handmaidens had helped them change into nightdresses, they retired to the smaller attached bedroom.

  Neither Kitlyn nor Oona moved for a few minutes, standing in the middle of the frigid room, looking at each other.

  “Your toes are numb, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.” Oona yawned.

  Kitlyn looked down at her feet. “Mine aren’t.”

  “I’m rather jealous of how you can tolerate such cold stone,” said Oona.

  “I’m rather jealous of your beautiful blonde hair.”

  “I’m rather jealous of your striking emerald eyes.”

  “I’m rather jealous of your perfect face.”

  Oona’s cheeks tinged with a little warmth. “Your nose is cuter than mine.”

  “I disagree.”

  So far, every night since they’d been wed, things had happened. Oona grinned at the thought, but could barely summon the energy to walk the few paces to the bed despite her toes feeling frozen to the stone floor.

  Kitlyn looked over at her, her expression clearly saying ‘snuggle.’

  Oona nodded, sharing the feeling.

  They slithered in under a thick comforter and cuddled together. Though the mattress had a few lumps unlike any bed she’d slept in before, it practically swallowed her. Between the depth of it, the thickness of the bedclothes above her, and having Kitlyn’s arms around her, she likely wouldn’t have even tried to get out of bed at that moment even if the castle caught fire.

  Oona basked in the warmth, still unsure how to cope with not having a dreadful worry to keep her awake at night. She barely considered it strange to feel so content and safe before her thoughts spiraled into a dream of elves.

  10

  The Other Side

  Kitlyn

  The next morning, after a breakfast of fragrant sweetbreads and jellies, Kitlyn and Oona accompanied Prince Ralen on a tour of Ivendar. They stopped at the Stoneshapers’ Guild, where several elders took interest in her gift, marveling at the amount of power she held. Kitlyn had hoped to avoid mentioning Omun, but evidently they had received word of him already.

  Forty-foot-tall stone giants didn’t exactly do subtle well.

  Upon learning that Kitlyn had essentially called out to the stone in a moment of complete terror and had not performed a deliberate and complex ritual to summon him, the elders all paled. Evidently, they believed that such a feat of magic required great preparation and many hours spent communing with the earth. Kitlyn suggested that she had spent many hours communing with the earth, though not all at once. Whenever she had summoned rocks to amuse Pim, or manipulated walls to take a shortcut across the castle grounds or moat, she had always felt in touch with something greater. She hadn’t realized what until the stone spoke to her while she’d been confined in a cell beneath Castle Cimril.

  This revelation alarmed them somewhat as it appeared to prove she did have the power necessary to have destroyed Evermoor. The more they spoke of her magic, the more she tried to change the subject, feeling guilty that Oona stood there so dutifully smiling, worrying she may have felt overshadowed at all the people fawning over her.

  As soon as they left the guild, Kitlyn whispered apologies.

  Oona simply hugged her and giggled. “You looked so uncomfortable.”

  “I was,” muttered Kitlyn.

  Ralen chuckled. “The stoneshapers are an interesting lot. They rather pride themselves on their power, and struggle to accept what you have accomplished without any formal training.”

  “Nalmas seemed to think a stoneshaper would charge more to repair that statue than it would be worth to replace it,” said Kitlyn.

  “Perhaps a mild exaggeration… though they do ask a fairly high rate for their services, unless they are necessary.”

  “Is there some other way to mend a cracked statue?” asked Oona.

  Ralen glanced back with a smile. “I meant that in the sense of bridges or fortifications as opposed to decorative statues. In service of Evermoor or its people, they do not take fees.”

  “Ahh.” Kitlyn smiled, feeling a bit more respect for them.

  The tour brought them briefly by the firecaller’s hall, then the rootcallers’ grove. She wondered how many of them had created bridges at the Churning Deep to allow raiding parties across during the war. Though, she had come to understand those ‘raiding parties’ had been attempting to locate the Eldritch Heart and had not, in fact, been sent in to randomly attack villages as everyone in Lucernia claimed.

  From there, they visited the king’s garrison and reviewed whatever troops happened to be out and about at the time, along with a contagiously happy older general far better suited to be in charge of an orphanage than a military force. He also appeared to have suffered several strong blows to the head at some point in the past as he continually mistook Kitlyn and Oona for some young cousins of Ralen or nobles’ daughters he’d been tasked with entertaining. Ralen reminded him no less than fourteen times that he spoke with the Queen of Lucernia and her wife, but the man continued to exist in his own reality.

  After lunch, they returned to the enormous tree-slab table to finish the reparation negotiations with King Volduin. Fortunately, the spiritcallers had decided to wear robes that despite being airy and close to see-through, covered them enough that Oona didn’t spend the entire time with pink cheeks.

  It seemed that his wives had soothed his temper toward Aodh Talomir, and he accepted terms close to the ones Beredwyn had suggested as a starting point. Having expected another contentious session, Kitlyn exhaled with relief and nearly flopped over the table as all the tension left her body.

  Once the treaty had been signed by all, Kitlyn and Oona spent the afternoon wandering the gardens together enjoying a little privacy amid the overabundance of nature. After dinner, more people came into the castle courtyard for another long night of conversation and casual drinking.

  That night, they used the bed for a little more than sleeping.

  Two days later, Kitlyn climbed back into the coach, eager to return home to Castle Cimril.

  The reparation negotiations had taken far less time than she had expected. In truth, she’d gone into Evermoor with more than a little dread, half expecting the king to treat her either like the ruler of a conquered nation or a child. At least a little part of her worried she might have been traveling to her demise. Though, in hindsight, that struck her as foolish. She had, after all, sided with Evermoor against her own father and prevented the ruination of their land.

  Her thoughts returned to the stoneshapers gasping about her ‘untamed’ power. She dwelled on that comment until the coach neared a fork in the road, with a sign pointing at the rightward offshoot labeled ‘Ilde Brae.’

  Kitlyn stood and stuck her head out the window. “Dri
ver, please stop for a moment.”

  “Aye, your highness.”

  The coach slowed.

  “What are you doing?” Oona blinked, her expression a mix of curiosity and worry.

  Kitlyn peered back into the coach, grinning. “Keeping a promise.”

  Lieutenant Gann, the highest ranking soldier among the escort, rode up beside the coach and glanced in the window. “Highness? You requested a stop?”

  “I did. I wish to take a detour on the way back home. We should be safe enough if your men would prefer to return home sooner.”

  “Nonsense, your highness.” Lieutenant Gann sat taller in his saddle. “Nothing would make us happier than to see you safely back to the castle, no matter the time it takes.”

  “Very well. I shall not be long. Please send word back to the castle that our trip will extend by several days so they do not become alarmed.”

  Lieutenant Gann nodded at her, then whistled. A boy a year or so younger than Kitlyn rode up on a light horse with no barding.

  While the lieutenant relayed the message to the fast rider, Kitlyn stretched farther out of the coach window and looked up at the driver to the right. “Make way to the village of Ilde Brae, up the road to the right. When we are there, I shall point the way to go beyond.”

  “As you wish, highness.”

  The boy took off riding down the road to the left while the coach, the soldiers, and the wagon of supplies headed north.

  “What are we doing?” Oona tugged on her arm.

  Kitlyn jumped back into the seat beside her. “We’re already here. I think you should meet Kethaba.”

  Oona blinked at her, biting her lip.

  “I know. I know.” Kitlyn patted her on the knee. “It’s far more rustic than you’re used to. But trust me. You’ll love it.”

  “All right.” Oona leaned against her. “I trust you.”

  Upon reaching Ilde Brae, Kitlyn climbed up to sit beside the driver and pointed the way into the woods, further northwest. By early evening, they arrived at the cluster of small homes where Kethaba lived. It remained unclear as to whether it counted as a separate smaller village or part of the town.