by H. L. Burke
The lyre had fast become his favorite. He had marginal skill with pipes and drums, but his lyre had kept him company through many long nights. It chased away both the silence and his loneliness.
Light footsteps echoed in the stone hall outside his door. He paused in his playing.
“Calen, is that you in there?” Laidra called through the door.
His whole body tensed. “Y-yes.” His tongue tripped over the word, and he cursed himself. Could I be any more awkward?
“Are you playing a lyre? I heard the music and followed it here.”
“Yes. It keeps me busy.”
“That’s wonderful. I play the pipes sometimes.”
He relaxed slightly. “I have pipes. I don’t play them often, so you could have them, if you want.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
He stared at the door, wondering if he should say something else, wishing he could let her come inside to play music with him. However, there was a window in his room, letting in natural light he could not block.
“I know you said we would talk tonight, but something happened on the beach I need to tell you about. Is it all right if we speak now?”
“Sure. Not here, though.” He cleared his throat. “Not that shouting through a door isn’t nice, but it would be easier to talk if we were in the same room. Your quarters have shutters on the windows. If you close them and douse the lights, I can join you there in a little while.”
“All right. I’ll do that.”
Calen moved to the door to listen to her fading footsteps. So strange to have another human in his home … yet oddly thrilling. Now that he knew her sweet spirit, his heart quickened just knowing she was behind a door. How would it handle being in the same room as her?
After waiting what he hoped would be enough time for her to reach her quarters and take the necessary measures, he started through the halls.
What could’ve happened on the beach? Yes, his father’s men had managed to make it to the island and trap him the night before, but Calen had surveyed the land from the parapet only a few hours before and seen no sign that anyone still lurked, not even a ship on the horizon.
With Laidra in his care, he couldn’t continue to be so cavalier about safety.
The entrance to Laidra’s bedroom had a special double doorway. The first door opened into a small space with another door on the other side. This second door had a peephole so he could be sure it was safe to enter. Pressing his eye against the hole, he found nothing but darkness beyond.
He entered.
“Is that you, Calen?” she called out.
“Yes. Are you on the couch?”
“No—just standing in the middle of the room—a bit awkwardly at that.” She gave a wavering laugh. “This situation is a little unusual.”
“More than a little, I’d think.” He smiled, his eyes adjusting to the dark. Even with his superior vision, he could only make out vague shapes. Avoiding the furniture, he approached her. When he touched her arm, she gasped. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “It’s just me.”
She squeaked out a giggle.
“Here, let’s sit down.” He led her to the couch. Once they sat, he scooted over to give her space. No need to push myself on her. She’s been through enough in the last few days. He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, you said something happened on the beach?”
“Yes, I think I met your uncle.”
A chill shot through Calen’s body. “M-my uncle?”
“Yes. There was an old man fixing a fishing net on the beach. When I approached him, he wanted to talk about your father and the curse.” Her voice shuddered. “Then his whole face changed, except for his terrible blue eyes. He went from old to young instantly. It was like someone wiped the wrinkles off his face with a cloth.”
Calen chewed his bottom lip. “Did he threaten you?”
“No. I think he wanted me to know his side of the story, why he hurt you the way he did.” Her voice trailed off in a murmur.
“Yes, that sounds like him. He’s always been eager to argue his ‘just cause.’” Calen sighed. When he'd been a young boy, stories of his uncle had frightened him. Now, however, it was easy to grow weary of the half-god's theatrics. After all, the harm had already been done. In the present, Calen's own father was more of a threat.
“Is he dangerous? I mean, he cursed you and your brother, and he claims to be the son of a god. Can he cause us any harm?”
“Can he? Probably. Will he? No. For lack of a better explanation, it’s not his style. Cibron sees himself as a mastermind. He set things in motion for my family to tear itself apart from the inside, so now he just sits back and watches.” He concentrated on the darkness before him. “Unfortunately, it seems he was successful. My mother and father have chosen opposite sides. I’ve never really spoken to my brother, but I know Volen seeks to destroy me, or at the very least to cure himself, which will accomplish the same end.” He shook his head. “I suppose I can’t blame him for that. If our situations were reversed, perhaps I’d be just as desperate to protect my humanity.”
Laidra shook her head vigorously. “No. Even though I’ve only known you a short while, I’m certain that's not true. I don’t think you would throw a girl into the mouth of a serpent to save yourself.” Her hand brushed against his shoulder, sending a wave of anxiety and pleasure through him.
By the gods, will I ever get used to being touched by her?
“You wouldn’t have been at fault if I’d been devoured that night,” she continued.
“I would’ve felt at fault.” He rubbed his eyes. “Still, even if my uncle has never been dangerous to me, I don’t like that he approached you.”
“In fairness, I approached him.”
“No, out here, he could’ve easily avoided you. If you spoke to him, it was by his design. The question is why.”
“I think he wanted me to know he was the one who caused my curse.”
Calen started. “What? Did he say that?”
“No, not in as many words.” She shifted. “But I put things together. Calen, do you know who I am? Who my family is, I should say?”
“No, should I?”
“My father is the king of Oleva. Your brother is courting my sister.”
Calen closed his eyes. “Of course he is. That’s why you’re mirror cursed and why Volen thought killing you would doom me.”
“I don’t understand: how would killing me solve anything?”
“It might or it might not, but my father and brother have been desperate for a cure for as long as I can remember. When I was six, my father tried to toss me from the palace wall, thinking that if I died my brother would be healed.”
Laidra drew in her breath with a hiss. “He—he tried to murder you? When you were six?”
“Mother stopped him. I think that’s when they both made their choices. From then on, he was Volen’s champion and Mother mine.” He ran his hand over his forehead, wishing he could chase away the memory. “The wisemen kept me safe for a while, telling Father it was unlikely that flat out killing me would end the curse. They suggested Volen killing me might do the trick, but Father wasn’t willing to risk me triumphing if it came to a fight, since I have the advantage of turning into a giant snake when I'm seen.”
“Yes, plus two children fighting to the death …” She found his hand and squeezed it. “So is there anything that can cure you?”
“Theoretically, marriage, but not just to any girl. It has to be a specific match.”
“And Volen thinks that Ellea—my sister—is that match?”
“Probably. If we’re all mirror cursed, then we make up the halves of a whole.” He tried not to look at her. They’d just met. Asking her to tie herself to him on the slim chance that it would cure him would be asking far too much. If it didn’t work, she’d be bound to an abomination. “There are no promises, however. The wisemen told my parents that such curses always have a cure, but without specific knowledge of what my uncle’s
intentions were—or are—it’s hard to say what the cure will be.”
Her grip tightened around his fingers. “I hope you find it. You don’t deserve to live like this, Calen.”
“Thank you.” Holding her hand felt strange and yet right somehow. Part of him longed to ask, to take the chance that she could cure him, but something held him back. Whether it worked or not, it was a big step. She didn’t owe him that, and he couldn’t let her think he expected it. “I still want you to be careful. Even if my uncle doesn’t mean you harm, my brother and father do. There’s a chance they could realize you didn’t drown and return for you.”
“I’ll be careful. I won’t leave the castle again.”
“Maybe we could, together.” The words burst from him a little too eagerly. He steadied himself. “I mean, I often take strolls at night. The darkness protects me, but I’d be glad for some company, and I could, in turn, protect you.”
“That sounds nice.” Her voice caressed his ears like satin. Though he remembered what she’d said about her appearance, he couldn’t quite believe it. In the darkness, at her side, she seemed the most beautiful creature in the world. “I’d also like to play music with you sometime. You said you have pipes?”
“Yes. I’ll have the guardian bring them to you later.” They sat in silence for several breaths. “I—I know you said you’d visit with me tonight, but now that we’ve already spoken today—”
“I still want to see you.” Her words came in a rush. “Visit with you, I mean.”
A smile overtook his face. “I look forward to it. It’s getting late. I’ll go see what the guardian has prepared for dinner then return to you tonight.”
Chapter Ten
Zephia stormed through the halls of the Cartan palace. Gan had gone too far this time, and while she had always had the situation under control, he needed to know she wouldn’t put up with such aggression against Calen.
A few servants eyed her with open mouths and worried faces, but she brushed past them. Most knew her by reputation, even if they’d only seen her in the family’s portrait mural. Even the guards stepped aside when she reached the royal quarters.
She pushed through the curtain into her husband’s library and froze. Volen blinked back at her, his eyes widening.
Something squeezed at her heart. “Son,” she whispered.
Hollowness consumed her chest as his expression hardened. “Father, she’s here,” he called out.
Gan stepped into the room and raised his eyebrows. “Well, this is an unexpected pleasure.”
Volen hurried to stand beside his father, his face a mask of defiance. Zephia focused on her husband. She had a purpose here, and it wasn’t to let Volen break her heart again.
“What were you thinking,” she snapped, “trying to feed the Olevan princess to Calen? Putting what it would do to our son aside, how are you going to explain to your ally that you lost their daughter at sea?” She crossed her arms. “Are you trying to start a war?”
Gan shrugged. “I don’t fear one. Oleva’s ships were helpful when I needed to fight my brother, but I’d rather claim their cedar forests as my own and use their resources to reinforce Carta’s navy.” He settled on a purple cushioned couch. “King Lucan is a naive fool, unprepared to face me in battle.”
Zephia shook her head. Gan’s grasp on loyalty had always been tenuous. It had led him to turn on his brother, their son, and even her. How did I ever see him as a worthy match?
“Your attempts failed. Perhaps now you will stop this foolish war on your own offspring, and we can work together to save both our sons.” She eyed Volen.
The boy stood, his lips curled in contempt. So handsome in his anger, just like his father.
Gan waved his hand dismissively. “Why bother wasting our time considering the impossible?”
“Is it impossible, though? We only have Cibron’s word, and we both know how he manipulates people.” She shuddered. “As far as he’s concerned, we’re puppets; he’s the master, directing us in his obscene performance. If marriage will free our boys, we could arrange a double wedding, vows said simultaneously.”
“You know as well as I it is as much about the consummation as the vows. Are we going to arrange for that to occur simultaneously?” He scoffed. “No, I will not leave my choice of heir up to chance.” Gan stood. “Volen is strong. The people love and respect him. They know Calen only as a monster.”
“And what are you going to do? Keep throwing maidens at Calen in hopes of him eating the right one and dooming himself?” She sniffed. “Admit it Gan, you’re just as lost in this as I am.”
“There are other methods. I will continue until one works.”
“I should fight him.” Volen scowled. “Father, let me take my fate in my hands. If I can slay him—”
“It’s too risky.” Gan cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Remember what happened the last time you were alone with him?”
“I was a child then. His attack took me by surprise. This time I will be ready, and I’ll end the monster.” Volen’s eyes shone, and Zephia’s heart sank.
“Volen, he’s your brother. When he hurt you, he didn’t know what he was doing—”
“You say that, but how do you know? Perhaps he was just as eager to kill me as I now am to destroy him.” The young prince’s fingers clenched. “You have chosen your side. Why should I trust you?”
“Think about what you’re saying!” She reached for him, but he jerked away from her.
Volen's nostrils flared, his dark eyes glinting. “Oh, I have thought long and hard about this. You must be mad to side with that creature over me. You could’ve preserved our family, kept it whole. I suppose one shouldn’t expect human reason or compassion from a half-god.”
“Volen, that’s enough.” Gan’s tone sharpened. “Leave this matter to me.”
The prince swore under his breath and pushed past his mother out of the room.
“He’s so angry,” Zephia murmured.
“What do you expect? He’s lived his life as the centerpiece of our power struggle.” Gan walked over to a small table where a pitcher of wine and a silver goblet rested and poured himself a drink. “But he’s right. You made your choice, as did I.”
The queen closed her eyes. She’d never meant to tear her family apart. For years, she’d lied to herself, thinking that she could love and protect both sons, but Gan's attempt on Calen's life had forced her hand.
Gan approached her. His gaze swept up and down her body. “You’re still as stately as the day we wed, your heritage I suppose. For old time's sake, would you consider staying the night? That aspect of our marriage was always pleasant.” He stroked her cheek.
She drew back. “No, I think we’re well past that level of intimacy.”
“A pity.” He sat down, nursing his wine. “When you see Calen, remind him that I bear him no ill-will. I didn’t wish to choose one child over the other, but the lots were cast against me.”
“I’m sure that will bring him great comfort.” Her words dripped with acid.
Wanting to be rid of Gan, she called the power of her father to her. A breeze swept through the palace, rippling the curtains. Her body joined with it, rising from the room like a leaf on the wind.
***
Volen pushed through the curtain into the hall. It stretched before him, empty. His heart jolted painfully, but when transformation didn’t immediately grip him, he remembered the guards and turned. Yes, two stood in silence on either side of the door he’d just passed through. He’d walked right by them in his haste.
Flushing, he shot them his best glare. They straightened their postures and dropped their gazes.
The prince paced down the hall, certain to stay in their range of vision. He hated this aspect of the curse, never being truly alone. While he had many servants who were trained to be present but unobtrusive, he would’ve liked just once to feel the joy of solitude without transforming into a giant snake.
I should just get it ov
er with and marry the Olevan princess. She’s pretty enough.
Yes, Princess Ellea pleased his eyes, and most likely would’ve done wonders for the rest of him, given the opportunity. However, she had a cold, haughty manner, as if she expected him to put her on a pedestal and cater to her every whim. Volen wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end of such treatment, but he disliked the attitude when directed at him.
His hand strayed to his chest. The scar left by his one encounter with his brother still itched sometimes, over a decade later. His father and the court physician both said it was in his mind, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable.
He still remembered it like yesterday, struggling in the grasp of the monster that was his brother. His ribs aching, his lungs desperate for air, the scales tearing at his body. They were smooth if rubbed in the right direction, but rough when one's skin traveled against the grain, as his had in his fight to escape. He'd been told to stay away, but the idea of a brother his own age who might be a playmate, who might help him hide from the constant shouting between his parents, had lured him to that forbidden room. He'd almost paid for it with his life.
His parents had saved him, his father nearly ending Calen’s life for daring to harm Volen. Of course, Mother had come to Calen’s defense, swearing he didn’t know what he was doing when under the curse’s influence, that he hadn’t meant to hurt his brother.
“I should’ve killed him and ended this years ago,” Volen whispered. “He certainly would’ve ended me that night if Father hadn’t intervened.” He wasn't sure which aspect of that terrible day had hurt more, that his brother had tried to kill him or that his mother had leaped to Calen's defense even as Volen lay there, bleeding and terrified. His gut twisted. A boy should be able to count on his mother for protection, a brother for loyalty. All Volen's brother had given him was a scar.