Curses

by Lish McBride

  Ranulf stood. “Frogs are not reptiles. They’re amphibians. There’s a difference. I was amphibian royalty, and you treated me like a common toad.” He shook his head. “I can’t do this anymore.” He gave a curt nod to the group. “My apologies.” Then he strode from the room.

  “Ranulf!” Tatiana fluttered to her feet. “My love! Don’t go!” She dropped a quick curtsey before running after him. “You’re not a frog anymore! It doesn’t matter! I love you!”

  They watched the door until they heard the outer one slam twice.

  Glendon cleared his throat. “Anyone else care to jump in?”

  * * *

  • • •

  After the meeting, Merit wanted to walk. Her head felt full and her heart heavy, and walking had a way of sorting things out. She left her carriage for Ellery, who planned to stay, as a few of the cursed folk wished to talk to them. Merit had her veil back down before she left, and wasn’t too surprised when Glendon jogged to catch up to her, since Kaiya was with her.

  He kissed his niece on the cheek. Though the sides of his head were shaved close to the scalp like Kaiya’s, he kept the top short in the style currently fashionable in Veritess. “Care for a companion?”

  “Of course.” Merit put her arm through his elbow. He wouldn’t offer an arm to Kaiya—she was on duty and as such needed her arms free. Merit had always liked Glendon—he was a rather dashing older man, kind and calm, something she admired. She found his presence soothing. Because of Kaiya, he often followed them home after a gathering so he could visit. Kaiya said this was more because of his crush on Merit’s mother than anything, but Merit knew he was genuinely fond of his niece.

  They walked around the building, heading back to the main street. As they passed the back alley, Merit caught sight of Ranulf and Tatiana rather enthusiastically forgiving each other.

  “I hope they come up for air soon,” Glendon said.

  “Do you think they’ll actually get married?” Merit asked, stepping around a puddle.

  “I wish they would,” Kaiya muttered. “So we can all stop hearing about it.”

  Glendon grinned at Kaiya and squeezed Merit’s arm. “You were quiet today. Did you want to talk?”

  This was one of the things Merit liked about Glendon—he wouldn’t think differently of her if she spoke or if she kept her own counsel. He wouldn’t judge her for anything she said. He simply listened, and Merit had realized that was a rare trait. She told him about her recent episode and Ellery’s diagnosis.

  After she was done, Glendon paused at a food cart, getting them a paper cone of roasted almonds. He handed the cone to Merit after he’d taken a few for himself. “Your mother—” He halted briefly to let a young girl run past, a ragged-looking dog hot on her heels. “Lady Zarla is a complicated woman, and as parents, well, sometimes what you think is best is not what your child actually needs or wants. It’s hard to not let our own desires color our vision for our own children, understand?”

  Merit nodded thoughtfully as she popped a salted almond into her mouth. Kaiya leaned in and snatched one from the bag, and Merit had no doubt that even in that moment her guard could have told her exactly where everyone on the street was and what they were doing.

  “And with your curse . . . There’s a lot of guilt wrapped up in that, I think. If you’re cured and everything turns out all right, she can stop feeling bad. If she also gets what she wants? Well, what’s the harm?” Glendon shook his head. “That makes her sound selfish.”

  Merit held the almonds out to him. “No, I understand what you mean.”

  “If I remember correctly, you had to marry someone of your mother’s choosing? To break the curse?”

  Merit nodded. “Which means he must have a good title, solid fairy lineage, and . . . Well, I think that’s it. Or he must love me. There’s not much overlap between the two.”

  “It’s not all doom and gloom, Merit. I know your situation isn’t ideal, but if you pick someone you can be friends with, someone you can respect, love will come in time.”

  Kaiya snorted. “You’re only saying that because you’re not the one in her place.”

  “I think he’s trying to make me feel better,” Merit said. “Which I appreciate, even if I don’t believe him.”

  Glendon chuckled. “If you’re anything like my daughter, you’re going to be dead set against any suitor your mother picks out of principle.” He took the paper cone from her, shaking it before choosing another almond. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  She smiled at him fondly. “Thank you.” They walked in silence for a few streets, Merit deep in thought. She had frittered away her time, and now she was stuck—she would have to choose soon. The problem was, she didn’t trust her judgment. Not after her last heartbreak. What if she chose poorly again, only this time it was for life?

  What she needed was a person with a cunning mind who could see past social masks and find her a decent match. Someone entirely on her side. Glendon would do his best to help, but he’d be torn between his friendship to Merit and his affection for her mother.

  Her mother’s judgment was entirely suspect. Six weeks. She could already feel the moments slipping through her fingers. What was she going to do?

  “If you want to assist us, Uncle,” Kaiya said, her eyes on a group of children that ran past, chasing the same ragged dog from earlier, “you could distract Lady Zarla. It’s going to be difficult enough for Merit to make a decision without her mother hovering every second.”

  Glendon examined his niece from the corner of his eye, clearly tempted to take her up on the idea, but sensing that it might be a trap. Finally his desire overrode his hesitation. “If you think it will help.”

  “What would we do without you?” Merit patted his arm before throwing Kaiya a grateful look for solving a problem before Merit even realized it would be one.

  Kaiya tapped two fingers to her forehead, flicking them away in a little salute, her hands back at her sides before her uncle turned to look at her.

  CHAPTER 4

  NOT EVERYTHING THAT GLITTERS IS GOLD

  Grenveil station was an overload to the senses. The evening air was hot and sticky, making Tevin’s shirt cling to his back. Boots clomped on the boards as people ran to catch their trains, conductors yelling to be heard over the din of food vendors hawking their wares. The delicious smell of roasted meat and candied nuts mixed with the tang of sweat and rotting garbage in the bins and, underneath that, the heady smell of livestock. The layers blended into a miasma Tevin could taste as he breathed, and wished he couldn’t.

  Their train slid in, heralded by the shouts of the mages controlling it. Three people in the bright blue jumpsuits of the Eastern Line unclipped themselves from their stations on top of the train, where they rode and directed the smooth magework wyrm to its destination. The head of the train was a stylized dragon, bright colors accenting the metal to give it the look of scales. They would be in the belly of the beast.

  Tevin shuddered.

  “Oh, get over it, you big baby.” Despite Brouchard’s not-too-subtle hints that she should go home, Val had stayed with Tevin.

  “Trains explode sometimes, Val.”

  “Not in ages,” Val said, a hand on her hat as someone jostled her. “They fixed that design flaw.”

  “I can’t help not liking it,” Tevin said. “It’s unnatural.”

  Val frowned. “My mother explained it to me once. Something about the mages using the force of the earth and possibly magnets? I wasn’t really paying attention at the time.”

  “Pretty girl?”

  “Baroness Lafayette and her daughters.”

  “That explains it, then.”

  Val rested her hand on his wrist. “It’s safe, Tev. The mages spend years learning their trade. If the whole muster doesn’t pass the examinations, they don’t get a license. Whic
h means every single person in those blue jumpsuits is well seasoned and knowledgeable. We’ll be there faster than you can say cricket.”

  Tevin nodded, but couldn’t make himself believe her words.

  The mages would stay at the station, and a fresh muster would take their place. Once they were clipped in, boarding began. Brouchard left them for the first-class cabin that was all cream leather and metal accents, every comfort considered. Tevin and his siblings originally had tickets for third class, but between Kate’s savvy and Tevin’s charm, they’d managed to get bumped up to second. Not as posh as first, but they had their own berth, and it was clean and quiet.

  They took their seats, Amaury sitting across from him, his golden eyes fixed on Tevin.

  “I’m not a mouse,” Tevin said, leaning against the wood paneling of their berth.

  “A mouse wouldn’t get sick in our cabin,” Kate said. “A mouse would be preferable at this point.” She pointed a demanding finger at Tevin. “Be the mouse we all know you can be.”

  Val slid the door shut and locked it. “What’s going on? Your father was as tight-lipped as a magistrate.”

  “Our illustrious mother got nicked.” Amaury leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

  “That’s all we got.” Kate’s face scrunched up in frustration. “Father’s being very evasive. I don’t like it.”

  For a brief moment, Tevin wished his sister was still the tiny, whirling redheaded dervish he used to be able to take onto his lap while looping an arm out to pull his quiet little brother to his side. That was the only time he’d known for sure that they were safe.

  “I’ll be home after this. No long-term or out-of-city jobs for a while.”

  Kate turned her gaze on Amaury, sharing something silent between them. “Tev, it’s okay—”

  “I gave them my savings.” Amaury tucked his arms in, his hands clasped tight as he looked at his brother. “After the rug was gone.”

  Tevin tried to hide his frustration and knew he’d failed when Amaury scowled at him. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  The corners of Amaury’s lips tipped up in the faintest impression of a smile. “I forgot. Sacrifice is your job. Sorry to steal your thunder.”

  “It’s not a sacrifice,” Tevin said. Not when it was for them. It was a gift gladly given. “But you shouldn’t have to—”

  Kate growled at him. “You’re exasperating. Why won’t you let us help?” She slung her arm around Amaury. “We don’t like you killing yourself for our sakes.”

  “I’m not killing myself.” Tevin closed his eyes against the rolling of the train. He hated feeling at the mercy of his nausea—weak and helpless. They could run. Fake papers wouldn’t cost much with Amaury making them, and they’d scrape by with their gifts, but what kind of life was that? Always looking over their shoulders for their parents, always hiding. If he saved up enough to get his own place, they’d have somewhere to live, but he had no guarantee they’d be able to move in with him. He was afraid then that his parents would need help, and he wouldn’t have enough on top of his own living expenses. Tevin couldn’t take the risk. He’d gone through the options so many times. There were no good answers.

  “I’ll be okay.” Kate’s voice was gentle but somehow also firm, simultaneously comforting her brothers and reprimanding them. “I know you’re both worried, but it’s not your job to rescue me.”

  “It most certainly is,” Tevin said, cracking his lids to glare at her. Amaury didn’t respond, keeping his eyes fixed on the scenery passing out the window.

  Val grinned. “Did you think that was going to work?”

  Kate shook her head and heaved out a breath. “It hasn’t yet, but I keep trying.”

  “You’re almost sixteen,” Tevin reminded her, as if she would ever forget. “What if they decide to marry you off? Trade you to someone?” She’d have no legal right to argue and nowhere to go. “What if they ask Amaury to counterfeit something that finally gets him caught? Do you know what they do to forgers?”

  “Prison, deportation, the breaking of fingers. So many delightful options.” Amaury rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to get caught.”

  Amaury was smart—his razor-sharp intellect deliberate and thoughtful . . . most of the time. He could be rash when it came to the small handful of people he loved.

  “You might not, but you’re not always in charge, are you?” Tevin hated reminding either of them that they were powerless. He wanted to reach across the gap between him and Amaury, hug his brother close. Amaury wouldn’t appreciate it, so he settled for wrapping his arms around his gut, tightening the hold he had on himself. No one had a good response to his question, and the car filled with the murmur of the train as it slid along the track.

  “How did it go with Downing?” Kate asked, changing the subject.

  Tevin closed his eyes and smiled, trying to ignore the rocking movement as the train accelerated away from the station. “Funny thing about Lydia Downing—she had her heart set on an impoverished third son. Good lineage, but no money to speak of. Her father was well against the match, but he’ll see it much more favorably now.” He peeked at Kate.

  “So she paid you to play fiancé while her father paid you to go away?” Kate asked.

  Tevin’s smile grew. “Brouchard only knows about the second part. The first payment is ours.” His stomach lurched, and he curled toward the wall, but it didn’t dampen the tiny victory of sliding something past his parents. “I wish they were all like this.” He never felt bad about taking money from the parents, but sometimes he was haunted by the broken hearts he left behind. Not enough for him to stop pulling the con. Each ill-gotten copper added up, and he’d have swindled Queen Lucia herself if it meant keeping his own safe.

  * * *

  • • •

  The train trip went about as Tevin expected—he threw up twice into a bucket while everyone else catnapped, and occasionally broke into a cold sweat. He arrived at the station stiff and sore, but grateful to be stepping onto solid ground that didn’t move, lurch, or hurtle at unnatural speeds.

  Veritess was a juncture city, sitting on the boundaries between three baronies. Juncture cities acted as common ground—a neutral territory where only the queen’s laws and whims mattered. It was the kind of city where the sometimes far-flung fairyborn aristocracy owned houses so they could meet, do business, arrange marriages, and conduct all the other mysterious workings that the upper crust managed. It was the kind of place the DuMonts went to make quick money—a target-rich environment.

  The train they caught had been an overnight making many stops and moving slowly through the countryside, so when they hit the cobblestone streets of Veritess, they were greeted by predawn birdsong. The city around them was waking up—young shop workers were out sweeping the walkways out front, readying themselves for the long day ahead. They walked quickly through the winding streets, stomachs grumbling at the smell of fresh bread wafting out of a bakeshop on the corner. Brouchard didn’t let them linger, herding them all directly for the local jail. Tevin’s father, having used the facilities available to first-class passengers, was cleanly shaven and fresh as spring rain. He’d also likely had breakfast. Everyone else had a rather rumpled and disgruntled look about them, which seemed fitting for a trip to jail.

  Veritess Jail was situated on the outskirts of town, and it took them a half hour of quick walking to get there. As penitentiary institutions went, Veritess’s was of a nice sort. It was clean and well made, the stone a bright, unrelenting white. The outside even had fresh flowers, a riot of color and types that a constable was watering as they approached. Amaury sniffed derisively, and Tevin hid a smile. Veritess Jail was one of Amaury’s least favorites—and over their years, the DuMonts had seen many. He thought it lacked the gravity of similar institutions.

  Tevin waited for it, knowing what the next words would be.

 
“Glitter bars.” Amaury growled the words.

  “No self-respecting nick should glitter,” Tevin, Kate, and Val chorused. The building used a local ore that, when treated, had an almost sparkling finish. In the bright light of morning, the place practically shone.

  “We’ll get her and go,” Tevin said, slinging his arm around his brother, his voice low. “We’ll be on the next train back to Grenveil. You’ll see.”

  They went in the front doors and greeted the desk clerk. Despite the early hour, the clerk, an older man, was in a crisp uniform, his tight gray curls cropped close to his deep brown skin. He took one look at the group and snorted. “No need to say who you’re here for.” He poked his head out the door and whistled. A young boy ran up, half asleep on his feet at the early hour. Despite this, he took off at a run as soon as the guard finished speaking.

  “Follow me.” The guard stood and escorted them through a set of doors and into a hallway. They followed him past several cells, most of their denizens still snoring on the wooden slats attached to the wall. Fresh hay dampened their footfalls, and the atmosphere was quiet, with the exception of someone muttering in their sleep. At the end of the corridor, they stopped in front of the last cell. Florencia DuMont sat primly on her bench, her cell conspicuously empty of other prisoners.

  “We learned quick to keep her by herself. She starts trouble,” the guard said when he noticed Tevin taking in her single status.

  The DuMont clan nodded. This was an accurate assessment of their mother. The guard took out his keys.

  “It’s about time.” She stood, her chin high. “I couldn’t stand another breakfast of runny eggs and questionable sausage.” She eyed the guard. “It tasted like rat.”

  The guard gave her a tight smile. “It’s not all tied up in a bow just yet. I’ve sent a runner. It’s up to Lady Merit now.”