The Cursed Crown

by Matthew S. Cox

  “I think we both were fairly blind.” Kitlyn leaned in and kissed her. “And you had so much on your mind.”

  “Yes… I almost don’t know what to do with myself that I’ve nothing to fret about at night anymore.”

  A pack of about a dozen children zoomed by, all laughing.

  Oona spun, inheriting their glee, and watched them scramble down a dirt path toward a wide, slow-moving river at the edge of the village. When they reached the grass near the bank, an explosion of animal hide dresses, pants, and tunics went flying. She gasped, pointing.

  “Hmm?” Kitlyn looked over at the kids jumping into the water. “Oh, the current’s slow. They’ll be fine.”

  “No, not the river… they’re not wearing anything… outside.”

  “How else should one go swimming?” asked Kitlyn. “In a full gown? Perhaps armor?”

  Oona blinked, both confused at her love’s utter lack of reaction to such a shocking display of impropriety as well as being embarrassed at herself for swimming with Kitlyn while they’d been around Evie’s age, though she’d kept her smallclothes on. “Umm… But they’re outside.”

  “We’re not in Lucernia at the moment. People here are much closer to the natural world. It’s not a concern of theirs. Remember how I told you when they saved me from drowning, Kethaba expected me to get out of bed and sit at the table to eat without anything on?”

  Oona blushed at the thought and blushed harder for picturing it in her mind.

  An impish smile crossed Kitlyn’s lips. She grasped Oona by the hand and started walking.

  “Where are you going?” She eyed the river. “You’re not…”

  “No, but only because I know you would be too mortified.”

  “But you’re the queen…”

  “So are you.” Kitlyn raspberried her.

  “Queens don’t do that either.”

  Kitlyn laughed. “We are on holiday.”

  Oona kept quiet, allowing Kitlyn to lead her a few minutes’ walk into the forest around the village. Soon, the burble of trickling water reached her ears… bringing back the blush. She is not serious. She can’t be seriously thinking what I think she’s thinking.

  “Almost there.” Kitlyn glanced back with a wink before squeezing between a pair of close trees.

  Oona had to let go of her hand to manage the gap. Her foot sank into a plush carpet of thick emerald green moss surrounding a deep pond nestled in the shadow of a tall, rocky cliff with a face broken into jutting wafers of stone, like stacks of books askew. Water collected in a pond about twenty feet across and fairly deep before flowing off to the right in a small creek. Dense trees mottled with pale greenish lichen provided a natural wall but less than perfect privacy.

  “I know you’ve not been swimming in a long time,” said Kitlyn. “Aside from your swan bathtub. But, you don’t need to be scared. I’ll hold you the whole time.”

  Oona turned toward her. “You are serious?”

  “Of course.” Kitlyn winked. “When in Evermoor…”

  She pulled her dress off over her head. Her rich black hair cascaded free from the fabric falling around her shoulders. Oona’s heart raced at the sight. She stared down, caught off guard by the shock of it… then remembered they’d married, and gradually lifted her gaze up over Kitlyn’s beautiful legs to her stomach, up past her chest, and locked stares with her.

  “It’s all right if you don’t want to.” Kitlyn took her hand. “I’ve thought so many times about jumping in the lake at our garden, but someone would definitely catch us there.”

  Oona fidgeted. She rather wanted to do it, but worried it might offend Lucen, or the entire population of Lucernia. Is this wrong? “Umm.”

  “No one here would think twice about us having a moment together in a secluded grove.” Kitlyn took her hand.

  “You haven’t any smallclothes under your dress,” stammered Oona, trying to buy more time for Lucen to give her an answer.

  “Oh, I must’ve forgotten them,” said Kitlyn, sounding sincere.

  “How do you forget them?” Oona tilted her head.

  “Shoes weren’t the only things the other servants stole from my room. I haven’t actually had smallclothes for about two years. Just the tunics and breeches.”

  Oona frowned. No signs. No word. Love is pure. She closed her eyes, basking in how much she loved Kitlyn. “All right. Since we’re in Evermoor, we may as well do as the people here do.”

  Hands trembling, Oona eased her dress off and clutched it. Standing there in only her bra and smallclothes made her fear at any second an army of gasping, fainting townspeople would appear out of nowhere. After a moment, and no one mocking her, she dropped the dress beside Kitlyn’s.

  Grinning, Kitlyn stepped into the water. “Ooh. It’s a little chilly. But not too bad.”

  Oona shot a pleading stare up at the sky. Please tell me if it is wrong to be outside like this? She waited, listening to the soft rush of wind in the branches. The laughter of swimming children came from the distance for a brief moment, then faded. Oona took it as a nod of approval from Lucen. She also didn’t want to hurt Kitlyn’s feelings, and her wife did seem rather excited to do this.

  Certain her face matched an ivenberry for red, she undid her bra and pushed her smallclothes down. The breeze blowing across the entirety of her without fabric in the way almost scared her straight back into her clothes, but Kitlyn’s inviting smile from the water gave her just enough courage to hurry in. Despite the chill, the faster she plunged neck deep, the more covered she would feel. She stepped over slimy moss, slipped and went under, then resurfaced neck deep, dog paddling, her toes an inch or two away from the bottom.

  Overwhelmed with embarrassment, Oona broke into nervous giggles, her teeth chattering.

  Kitlyn glided over to embrace her, also giggling. They shared a moment of pure innocence, laughing and splashing at each other like children. After a while, the impropriety of it in Oona’s mind gave way to the thrill of doing something that would make the average Lucernian gasp. Of course, the castle halls had been filled with stories of the rather salacious doings of nobles for centuries.

  Yes, but their scandals all occurred behind closed doors. Not out in the forest. Oona blinked. Wait… no. Lady Harrington supposedly brought a suitor into her garden at night. She bit her lip. Clearly, King Volduin’s spiritcallers had an interesting relationship with clothing. Maybe no one in Evermoor would care about a royal in such a compromising position.

  Once the nervous giggling finally stopped, Oona brushed a hand over Kitlyn’s cheek. “My heart is about to burst from my chest. I’m as excited as I am terrified. It doesn’t matter. I love you so much.”

  “Oona, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. My oldest and dearest memories are all with you. I love you with all my heart.” She glided closer, pushing Oona with her until they sat on a stone shelf at the edge of the pond near the tall cliff face. A cascading waterfall spilled over the jutting rocky slabs, pouring into the pond in multiple separate streams around them, creating a curtain of shimmering light and mist.

  Kitlyn plucked a tiny white flower from the wall and tucked it behind Oona’s ear.

  Rich green leaves, dark grey stone, the burble of water lapping at the rocks, the squish of moss at her bare skin and the warmth of Kitlyn pressed against her… Oona ceased caring if anyone found them and wished this moment would never end.

  She threaded her arms around Kitlyn’s slippery body, and kissed her.

  12

  The Gift of Alderswood

  Kitlyn

  The entire time they ate lunch, Kitlyn kept grinning across the table at Oona.

  Neither Piper nor Meredith suspected what they had snuck off to do, though Kethaba wore a knowing smile. Oona’s cheeks remained bright red, though she no longer seemed embarrassed as much as still basked in the afterglow of the hour or so they’d spent ‘swimming.’

  After the meal, Kitlyn pulled Piper aside, bringing her into the bed alcove for a
quiet place to talk.

  “Is something the matter, highness?” Piper clasped her hands in front of herself, seeming worried.

  “No.” Kitlyn smiled. “I couldn’t help but notice how happy you seem here, and wanted you to know that if you should desire to stay here, I would not object. And, no, I’m not trying to be rid of you. I’ve grown rather fond of your friendship.”

  “I understand.” Piper smiled. “And it’s nice to see things I remember, but there’s nothing left in Evermoor for me. Being here also makes me think of my parents. For every smile you see, there’s two moments of sadness. Though, I do miss jumping in the lake whenever the whim strikes. But I am no small girl anymore.”

  Kitlyn nodded, relieved. “I’m glad you prefer to stay with us. But I needed you to know you are not required to.”

  “You are too kind to be a Lucernian royal.” Piper bit her lower lip. “I hope they do not see that as weakness.”

  “Well, if the people no longer want me, I could be just as happy here with Oona living in a hut.”

  “You’d give up your crown?” Piper blinked.

  “I would not impose myself upon a people who did not want me as their matriarch. Something my father never understood is that being king or queen is a responsibility, not an entitlement.”

  Piper looked around, pretending to check for eavesdroppers, then whispered, “Perhaps you really are from Evermoor.”

  Kitlyn laughed—as did Piper.

  “How long will we be staying here?”

  “Another day perhaps at most. It depends on what Kethaba has to tell me.”

  Piper nodded.

  Kitlyn went outside to meet the old one, who stood in the shade of an enormous, gnarled tree by the river-facing side of her house.

  “All right, child. Let us have a look at you then.” Kethaba rubbed a finger back and forth across her chin, her right eye wide, left narrowed. “Hmm. You have reached deep inside yourself more than I had expected you to be able to so soon.”

  “That’s something like what the stoneshapers said. I wound up in a rather frightening position, dangling on a vine over a room full of Nimse.”

  “Indeed.” Kethaba lowered her arm, smiling. “Experiences like that can do wonders for one’s training. You have come to know that your magic draws on the power of the Alderswood. The great tree is the focal point where our magical energy crosses into our world.”

  “Yes. The tree… sometimes it feels as though it talks to me.” She tilted her head. “But not with words. Is… King Volduin older than he appears? Ralen said that he had changed, almost mad, with the Heart missing.”

  “It has been a while since I traveled to Ivendar, so I do not know what he looks like now.” Kethaba’s eyes sparkled as she no doubt pictured him. “However, you are correct. The king’s life essence is intricately woven into the great tree. It is the same with all spiritcallers. Now, let me see you open that gate.”

  Kitlyn widened her stance and concentrated on her magic, envisioning the way she had poured energy out when creating a maelstrom of flying stones in Castle Cimril. Only, she didn’t beckon any stones, merely pushed and pulled at the mystical forces. Thin serpents of brilliant green fire coiled around her arms, darting back and forth across her chest.

  “Your power comes from the tree, drawn up from the earth. Your contact with it strengthens you.”

  “Is that why I feel strange whenever I have shoes on?” She tossed one of the energy streams back and forth between her hands.

  Kethaba nodded. “Your power comes from the earth. Shoes or boots do not block it, though they do weaken it. Though, bracing your hand on a tree or earthen wall would have a similar effect. However”—she tugged her skirt up enough to show off her bare feet—“this is far easier.”

  Kitlyn grinned. “Is it also why I don’t really feel cold? Oona’s toes go numb right away.”

  “Yes. We can draw upon the natural energies, attuning ourselves to the elements.” She spent a few minutes demonstrating how to focus on earth magic to provide warmth or shed heat.

  “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so simple. I think I have been doing that already.” She explained about the castle servants stealing her shoes all the time, and never bothering to make a big deal of it… nor feeling chilly in the castle during winter despite the thin tunic and breeches she’d worn at the time.

  “Our magic is not the same as your priests who study for years and years to learn how to light a small candle.” Kethaba chuckled. “It is as natural as walking.”

  For the next two-ish hours, Kethaba stood beside her, showing her how to fully open her connection to the Alderswood and to the Stone. While the old one could also call upon fire or air if need be, Kitlyn’s attempts to reach for flames or create even a small breeze met with little success.

  “Your connection to the Stone is remarkably strong,” said Kethaba. “It may be that you will never speak to the fire or the wind.”

  Alderswood gave me what I needed. She thought of calling Omun, and smiled. I can hardly complain about not being able to light a fireplace with the snap of my fingers. “I’m grateful to have what I have been given.” Kitlyn glanced at a ten-foot-tall stone obelisk she’d raised from the ground, and willed it to return from whence it had erupted. A faint tremor shook the earth until it disappeared from sight.

  “Your rootcaller abilities could use some practice.” Kethaba flashed a faint smile. “Let us work on that for a while.”

  Kitlyn followed her to the riverbank and spent the next several hours summoning and bending roots and vines. With the elder’s guidance—and no distracting need to worry about Oona’s safety—she felt out a subtle difference in the magic. Where touching the Stone raged within her body like a thundering river, the vine magic brushed her skin with the delicate caress of meadow grass. Shaping stone gave her the sense of commanding a primal force that moved however she directed it, while root magic almost felt like she whispered to something alive and asked it to come closer, curling around her hand.

  As the sun began to show signs of setting, Kitlyn sat back on her heels and admired the nearly life-sized ‘statue’ of Oona she had grown. It almost even resembled her.

  “A talented learner such as yourself will do well by your people.” Kethaba patted her back.

  Kitlyn picked at a bit of leaf forming the statue’s gown. “I don’t think I’m ready to be queen, but the gods seem to. I’ve not told anyone else this, but…” She looked up, meeting the elder’s gaze. “Aside from Oona and Beredwyn, I don’t have any family. It’s difficult to explain but you feel like—”

  “I am.” Kethaba smiled. “Did you forget what I said last time? By leading you back from the Wanderer’s Path, I have become your family.”

  Is that why I feel so much like she’s my grandmother? Or maybe it’s the energy from the Heart that my mother drank… Kethaba must be connected to the Alderswood like King Volduin. I bet she’s older than she appears… and she appears rather old. “I’m afraid of being queen. Too young. Too common. Too full of magic from some place other than the gods. Too… abnormal.”

  Kethaba put an arm around her. “Well, your father ascended to the throne as a boy and look where that got him.” She suppressed a cackle. “However, you may be young yet, but you are much stronger of spirit. I won’t tell you that you face an easy path. Being a leader is not for the faint of heart.”

  “What if the people don’t trust me? Or what if they hate me for loving Oona? Tenebrea herself appeared and smiled at us, and yet some still look at us like we’re evil.”

  “You already know the wants of gods can be overlooked when the wants of men are different. Lucernians are nothing if not rigid. You could sooner bend the side of a mountain than some of them.”

  Kitlyn flashed a crooked smile.

  “Well, I suppose you could bend the side of a mountain… given enough time.” Kethaba chuckled. “Magic aside. You are a strong, dedicated, and brave young woman. I have met very few people so full of e
mpathy and love as you.”

  “Oona’s much sweeter,” said Kitlyn. “I am quicker to anger.”

  “That’s your father talking.” Kethaba winked. “Yes, some decisions you will have to make in years to come will be difficult. Follow your heart”—she tapped Kitlyn twice over the heart with one finger, setting off a ripple of warmth and rings of green light—“and you will do well for your people.”

  Kitlyn hugged her, feeling as though she had a mother to comfort her for the first time in her life. She shed a few tears of happiness, then sat back on her heels again, wiping her face. “Thank you.”

  “Dare I suggest that after what you went through to put a stop to that war, most everything else you shall face will be minor… except arguing with merchants over taxes. You’ll likely prefer to fight another twenty-year war than suffer that discussion.”

  “Is it wrong of me that I sometimes wish to forget about being a queen or having to lead people or even being an adult? I don’t mean run away, just take a day or two and escape.”

  “Not at all. Your father’s biggest flaw was that he never allowed himself any time to simply be.” She winked. “Even an old bat like me knows that sometimes… you just need to fling your clothes off and jump in the river.”

  Kitlyn laughed.

  The old one held up a finger. “While it is often figurative, take that literally as well. The whisper of nature and the world around you is often the most insightful teacher.”

  She nodded.

  “Come then.” Kethaba stood with a grunt. “I imagine everyone is becoming rather hungry.”

  Kitlyn followed her back to the hut, feeling a bit like an ordinary young girl in some tiny village no one cared about sharing a day with her grandmother. For at least the next few hours, her crown, and all the burdens that came with it, would hang on that peg.