The Cursed Crown

by Matthew S. Cox

  She guided the coach to a small clearing within a minute’s walk of the village center and directed the lieutenant to have his men set up camp here. That done, she jumped down, waited for Oona, and walked off into the trees, leading her by the hand. Lieutenant Gann hurriedly sent two soldiers along with them. Kitlyn sighed to herself, but didn’t protest.

  Oona emitted soft noises of irritation as they navigated the woods. “We are not dressed for this.”

  “I was hoping to remedy that soon.” Kitlyn smiled up at a passing bird. “I did bring along some simple dresses.”

  “Is this why you packed those things? I was wondering.”

  “Indeed.”

  She emerged from the trees onto a footpath that led to an open dirt clearing around a well in sight of Kethaba’s house. The shouts of playing children echoed from the distance, likely near the river.

  Kitlyn approached the door, finding it odd this place felt so much like a second home despite her brief stay, and knocked.

  A moment or two later, the door opened to reveal Kethaba—looking so much like a storybook witch that Oona failed to fully muffle an eep of surprise. Both soldiers also leaned back, near to jumping. Piper smiled at the old woman while Meredith offered a nod of greeting.

  “Child…” Wrinkles around Kethaba’s eyes deepened with a grand smile. “What a wonderful surprise.”

  She stepped out and hugged Kitlyn before regarding Oona with a warm glance. “This must be the one you had been so eager to find.”

  “Yes. This is Oona.”

  “I sense change in you,” said Kethaba.

  “That’s one way to put it. My father has passed on. I’ve become queen.”

  “Pff, that’s not what I mean.” Kethaba tapped a hard, gnarled finger on Kitlyn’s crown twice. “Any fool with eyes could’ve seen that. I think you left here a frightened girl and have returned a bit closer to a woman.”

  Oona blushed.

  Kethaba cackled. “That is not what I meant either, girl. Though I can feel the love between you.” She squished them together in a hug, the fragrance of clove and spices in her shawl bringing tears to Kitlyn’s eyes. “There is strength in her that she had only begun to search for the last time we spoke. Come inside.”

  Soon, they all sat around Kethaba’s modest table having tea and small sweetbreads. Piper looked completely at ease, as if once more in surroundings she found natural. Meredith eyed the room and its décor with a note of wariness, but didn’t hesitate at taking a seat. Both soldiers sat so stiffly and pale that Kitlyn figured they expected the old one to throw them in her oven at any moment. She found it amusing, though Oona’s nervousness bothered her. She scooted her chair closer and held her love’s hand while telling Kethaba about everything that happened after she’d left down the river in her root boat.

  Piper went wide-eyed listening to the story as if she’d completely forgotten about being a handmaiden. Meredith also, despite being a year into her twenties, leaned forward in her seat and gasped repeatedly during the tale of Kitlyn’s swordfight with the soldiers at Ralen’s keep.

  At the mention of Omun, Kethaba beamed like a proud grandmother whose grandchild had accomplished something amazing. Kitlyn switched topics and told Oona of waking up in ‘that bed right over there’ with not a stitch of clothing on. Her description of being unsure if she’d been captured or rescued got Kethaba chuckling.

  Alin, Kethaba’s seven-year-old grandson, walked in yawning. He stopped short, staring in confusion at there being more than his grandmother in the room. Upon recognizing Kitlyn, he ran over and leapt into a hug.

  “Well, hello to you as well,” chirped Kitlyn.

  He sat back in her lap grinning. “Thank you for stoppin’ the war. I’m glad people aren’t fighting anymore. I’m not upset with you ’cause my parents had ta go to the Glimmering Vale.”

  Oona covered her mouth and gasped. Redness appeared around her eyes in seconds. “Oh, no… I’m so sorry.”

  Kethaba refilled Oona’s tea. “Why do Lucernians insist on apologizing for things beyond their control? You are no more at fault for this war than Alin would be were I to stick one of those strapping young lads with this table knife.”

  Both soldiers twitched.

  “Aye. I understand that in a logical sense, but I feel as if I… we could have stopped it sooner had we only known the truth. Even years ago.” Oona sighed at her lap. “Even as a child, I could have insisted he return the Heart.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that…” Kitlyn frowned. “I had to threaten to bring down the entire castle before he relented. I do not believe that guilt or wide, pleading eyes would have swayed that man from that particular course.”

  Oona plucked Alin from Kitlyn’s lap and hugged him. “I am speechless at the deceit. You are adorable. To think of the lies he spread of Evermoor and her people. It is an affront to Lucen.”

  “You’re pretty,” said Alin.

  Kitlyn laughed at the silly face Oona made at the boy in response.

  “I do hope you are at least planning to spend the night.” Kethaba sipped her tea. “It is much too late in the day for travel.”

  “Of course.” Kitlyn smiled. “Though I do not intend to be a burden. I’ve a small entourage along this time, but they shall take their meals in Ilde Brae.”

  “Nonsense.” Kethaba waved dismissively. “I’ve a big cauldron. Plenty of room for soldiers.”

  The men fidgeted, eyeing it.

  “But I cannot impose upon your provisions for twenty-four men.” Kitlyn glanced at them. “She means cooking for soldiers. Not cooking soldiers.”

  Kethaba wagged her eyebrows at them, then glanced around the room. “Perhaps they will need to sleep in their tents as I lack the space for so many, but feeding them is not an issue.” She winked. “Now, you two look woefully uncomfortable. Why don’t you relax and let me start on supper.”

  Kethaba didn’t wait for an answer, instead hurrying over to the enormous cauldron and nearby pantry.

  Oona looked at Kitlyn.

  Kitlyn shrugged, then stood. “May as well.”

  She sent the two soldiers away to bring word to the nearby camp the rest of her entourage set up that food would be provided soon. After they left, she started to head outside to retrieve the simple dresses she’d brought along but Piper insisted on doing that for her. When the girl returned with them, Kitlyn went into the alcove with the beds and waved Meredith over to help her out of the gown she had on.

  Oona gasped and rushed over. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I am doing?”

  “But… this house is one large room.”

  Kitlyn smiled. “Your powers of observation are surpassed only by your beauty. Kethaba is like family.”

  Piper crept up behind Oona, reaching for her dress’ lacing.

  “But.” Oona stood stiffly.

  “Highness?” asked Meredith.

  “I wish to be comfortable. Consider Kethaba to be my grandmother.”

  Meredith nodded, and proceeded to help her change.

  With no small amount of blushing, Oona relented and also swapped gowns. Soon, Kitlyn wore only a simple dress, and drew gasps from both Oona and Meredith when she hung her crown on a wall peg.

  “What?” asked Kitlyn. “I’ve been wearing it all day and it is somewhat heavy.”

  Piper giggled.

  “But, you’re the queen,” said Oona in a half whisper. “And that’s a crown. And that’s a simple wooden peg.”

  “Indeed. And I am on holiday at the moment. Also, we are not in Lucernia nor anywhere I care to brag about my station.”

  “The crown isn’t bragging…” Oona glanced at it. “Is it?”

  “I suppose it’s how you look at it.” Kitlyn stretched, savoring the freedom from the tight gown and all the associated mess she had to wear under it. “Remember when we ran off from the lake?”

  Oona smiled down at her plain blue dress, raising and lowering her toes. “It is comfo
rtable. But we were not responsible for an entire kingdom at the time.”

  “Were we not?” Kitlyn winked, gesturing around. “Even if it was one we don’t rule.”

  A sigh of resignation came from Oona. She removed her crown and hung it on the same peg with Kitlyn’s. The simple ‘travel crowns’ didn’t really weigh all that much, but she’d grown tired of the weight of metal upon her head.

  Kitlyn returned to the table and sat. Piper darted over to Kethaba, offering to help cook. Kethaba appeared to be throwing as much glowing green magic into the cauldron as food. Neither changing in the middle of a one room house nor such ‘bright’ kitchen practices appeared to faze the girl.

  I wonder if she truly misses being here. Kitlyn pondered asking Piper if she would like to stay here with Kethaba. Not that she wanted to be rid of the girl, but she appeared happier than she had in a long while.

  A little more than an hour later, the great cauldron held a wonderfully aromatic vegetable soup. The entire entourage paraded through the house, each taking a bowl bigger than their helms as well as a small loaf of bread apiece. Kitlyn blinked in astonishment, wondering where the old one had kept so much bread. She suspected more magic had occurred, but hadn’t noticed when it happened.

  Kethaba sat at the table with Kitlyn, Oona, Meredith, Piper, and Alin—who had a smaller bowl.

  While she ate, Kitlyn’s mind roamed back to the stoneshapers and their comments on training. She also thought back to her last time here when Kethaba mentioned she didn’t have the time needed to properly teach her. With the threat of war at an end, and both kingdoms relatively stable, she intended to bring up that question in the morning. A glance across the table at Piper reminded her of something the Tenebrea priestess had said.

  “Kethaba?” asked Kitlyn.

  “Yes, child?”

  “Something has been bothering me.”

  The old woman gave her a look like she’d announced the sky as blue. “I imagine given all that has happened there are many things bothering you. Which of them bothers you more than the rest?”

  “A priestess mentioned that my father had gone to the Banefallow…”

  Piper shivered. Alin dropped his spoon into his bowl.

  Kethaba rubbed her chin. “And you wish to know how a Lucernian managed to find himself there.”

  “Yes.” Kitlyn nodded. “He is not from Evermoor, nor did he die here.”

  “Hmm.” The elder pondered for the duration of a few mouthfuls of soup. “Well… either the Alderswood took him, something tricked him while he strode the Wanderer’s Path, or your Lucen thought he belonged there.”

  She fidgeted. I am not sure he is my Lucen… While she had nothing against the gods, she felt more drawn to Evermoor and the Alderswood.

  “Why would Lucen send him to a place described in the spirituality of an entirely different pantheon?” Oona paused with a spoonful of soup an inch from her mouth. “Does that mean his affront was so great he was exiled even in death?”

  “Better than the Pit,” whispered Meredith.

  Piper shot her a ‘not really’ stare.

  “If indeed Lucen had a hand in it, perhaps he felt that the most appropriate fate.” Kethaba shook her head with a sigh. “The whys of some things are not meant for us to think about.”

  The ‘lost orphan’ look in Oona’s eyes made Kitlyn take her hand.

  “Your gods are powerful, child,” said Kethaba, “but they do not have total dominion over everything. Nor would they seek to. I suspect they are far too wise.”

  Oona glanced at her. “What would wisdom have to do with that?”

  Kethaba gestured with her full soup spoon at Kitlyn. “Does she attempt to rule without the counsel of advisors?”

  “I’m only sixteen,” said Kitlyn. “I wouldn’t even begin to think I knew enough to make every decision on my own.”

  “How unlike your father you are.” Kethaba smiled. “A fortunate difference.”

  “Oh.” Oona cringed. “There are some who would lose their breaths at the suggestion Lucen, Navissa, Orien, and Tenebrea are equals with other beings of power and not their betters…”

  “And there are some who would lose their breath at us.” Kitlyn took Oona’s hand in both of hers, kissing her fingers.

  Kethaba clucked her tongue. “There are people in your kingdom who would react more strongly to a wealthy individual wearing too common a garment in public than watching two men kill each other.”

  Kitlyn’s eyebrows went up as she sighed. “We did get quite a few stares when we returned from Evermoor.”

  “I do think a few people actually fainted.” Oona grinned.

  “You may as well ask, child.” Kethaba chuckled. “I can see a question hiding behind your teeth, afraid to come out.”

  “Before, you said we didn’t have the time for you to teach me properly.”

  “Ahh. Yes. In the morning.” Kethaba stood and ambled over to an empty spot of wall by the window. “Alin will share blankets with me tonight. Your helpers can sleep here.” She held her arms out, both hands wreathed in dark green light.

  A mass of roots grew up from the dirt floor, twisting into an approximation of a bed. Meredith gasped in awe. Piper appeared less shocked, more impressed. Once it ceased growing, the elder gathered blankets from one of the freestanding cabinets and arranged them on the springy roots.

  One soldier returned with the empty bowls, which Meredith and Piper hurried off to wash without being asked. Kethaba made casual conversation with Oona and Kitlyn for a while after dinner, then bade them sleep once it became dark as if shooing children off for the night.

  They shared the bed on the right, the same one Kitlyn had been in when she first awoke here. Oona prodded at the thick hide suspended between four wooden posts, covered in lush animal furs. She winced a little, but didn’t hesitate too long before climbing in. Kitlyn curled up with her under the blanket of stitched pelts. Kethaba and Alin shared the other bed.

  For a moment, the soft whispery voice of Piper assuring Meredith it was perfectly normal for families in Evermoor to occasionally share beds broke the silence. Soft creaking of roots followed as the older girl climbed in.

  While she adored having Oona so close—the suspended hide dipped in the middle, pressing them together—she had zero inclination to be romantic while Kethaba and Alin lay five feet away… not that she had the opportunity.

  Oona fell asleep almost as soon as they settled in.

  11

  When In Evermoor

  Oona

  Oona wandered around outside Kethaba’s hut the next morning, adoring the sunlight glinting among the branches and the cool brush of grass at her bare feet. Despite it being autumn, the day brought an unusual amount of warmth. Though well short of summer, the temperature allowed her to be comfortable in a relatively light dress without shoes. A wave of rustling swept over the leaves above, driven by a brief gust in the wind. She took in a deep breath, laced with the scent of fallen leaves, and daydreamed of the fast-approaching winter, when Lady Navissa grew in power with the lengthening night.

  She looked forward to the beauty of sparkling snow out on the meadow and the enchanting sight of Cimril under a layer of frost. This year’s Moon Festival would likely be an event she’d remember for the rest of her life. To honor the goddess Navissa, families exchanged gifts on the longest night of the year. After dinner, they ventured out into their city, town, or village to give another gift to someone they chose at random on their way to the city center, where everyone gathered for the priestesses to lead a ceremony. When that finished, the celebration began.

  For as long as Oona had been alive, the Moon Festival had been a melancholy reminder of all the men and women away from home fighting the war. Seeing the faces of the orphans sitting at the edge of the city square with no family left always made her cry. Perhaps the ceremony this year would still have a degree of somberness for the ones who would never come home again… still, it would be the first time in twe
nty years anyone in Lucernia had hope during the Moon Festival.

  Kitlyn emerged from Kethaba’s home and hurried over. “Excuse me, have you seen Queen Oona about? I seem to have misplaced my wife.”

  Oona turned toward her, one eyebrow up, arms folded, and smirked.

  “Oh! There you are!” Kitlyn faked a gasp of surprise. “I almost didn’t recognize you without a crown on.”

  “If you’re trying to be funny…” Oona pounced, tickling her. “You’re doing it.”

  Kitlyn laughed, trying to simultaneously dodge and retaliate. After a moment, they stalemated, each holding the other’s hands at bay.

  “This is… nice. Though I do feel like the advisors would scold us if they saw us running about like peasants.”

  The smile on Kitlyn’s face fell flat.

  “No!” Oona hugged her. “I didn’t mean it that way. I mean they’d yell at us and get all out of sorts over us in such plain attire, no shoes even. I mean, can you imagine the horror? A queen without shoes? I didn’t mean there’s anything wrong with peasants.”

  “I know.” Kitlyn rested her head against Oona’s shoulder. “Few things are as pure as an honest day’s work, yet you saw how everyone treated me before they knew who I was. Why do our citizens place such emphasis on station?”

  She looked down, tracing her toes back and forth over the grass. “Beredwyn said that people who own a great deal of things look at those who have less than them, and feel as though it means the gods have given them favor while denying the other person. Even your father could scarcely look the commoners in the eye. I’ve never felt that way despite the false station I had.”

  “Obviously.” Kitlyn smiled. “You associated with the likes of me, and you visited the orphans all the time because you wanted to visit them, not—like my father—because you wanted to be seen visiting them.”

  “Ooh!” She fumed, fists balled. “I was so stupid! How could I not have seen that! The king would utterly ignore the lower tier of maidservants… someone of your supposed station he should’ve pretended didn’t even exist. Yet… I am so blind.”