Curses

by Lish McBride

  Latimer attempted to appear relaxed as he perched on the plush love seat in his rented rooms. His mother wasn’t going to like his report, but he had to act like he had it all under control. She could sense weakness like it was blood in the water. “Of course. I wanted to make a good impression.”

  “Surely you could have danced with Merit later? Or dined with her?”

  Latimer shook his head. “She disappeared early. Rumor has it she was unwell. Still, the night wasn’t a total wash. I danced with her mother and learned a lot that will help as I go forward.”

  She scrutinized her painting. “And got information about the man, I hope?”

  Latimer stretched, wishing he was still in bed. The dance had gone late, and he was too tired for verbal fencing with his mother. He made mistakes when he was tired. “Yes. His name is Tevin. A business associate of Lady Zarla’s.”

  “Is he a threat?” She dipped her brush into the water next to her, swishing it around to clean it, looking like she was little invested in the conversation. Latimer knew this for a ruse, thinking carefully before he responded. How should he play this? What did she want to hear? If Latimer wrote down the facts on paper, Tevin didn’t look like much of a risk. But Latimer had seen how comfortable they’d seemed with each other. They looked cozy together. Tevin was also the person Merit had been with when she disappeared out onto the terrace. Part of him knew that Tevin was a very real threat, whether logic agreed or not. People weren’t always logical about these things.

  “He’s handsome, but the mother doesn’t care for him, and he’s of common stock.” Latimer said this easily, pushing down his worry. “And while her mother does approve of me, there’s competition. Other fairyborn heirs.” Latimer had made note of every name Lady Zarla had mentioned. She’d made it clear that her daughter had other options. It was a delicately made threat, and he appreciated her skill.

  “Are they as handsome as you?” the queen asked, dipping her brush and gently applying it to the paper.

  No,” he said quickly, then admitted, “Tevin is, though.”

  “Human,” she said dismissively. “The other names she mentioned, are any of them as distinguished as we are? None of them have our title. Never underestimate what people will do to gain a higher rank.”

  “I understand,” Latimer said. “But I think it would be a mistake to discount any of them.”

  His mother swept her brush across her paper, leaving a dark purple stain. “Of course.” She leaned back and smiled at her work. “Don’t worry, dear heart. I’m leaving nothing to chance. The best defense is a ruthless and preemptive offense.” For the first time since he called, she looked away from her painting and smiled into the mirror. “I sent some helpful things in your trunk. You just be your handsome and charming self. I’ll handle the rest.”

  Latimer had already found the case of vials, potions, and coins for bribes, though he hadn’t looked at it thoroughly. He’d been hoping he wouldn’t need to look at it at all.

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  CHAPTER 15

  BLOOM WORN

  The day after the ball left Merit feeling like someone had stripped away some invisible buffer between her and the world. Every nerve felt exposed—lights were too bright, sounds too loud, and her mother too much. Lady Zarla had cornered Merit in her room as she was applying brush and tooth powder to the beast’s fangs, sleepy-eyed Ellery and alert Kaiya hovering behind her. Merit leaned against the door frame of the bathroom and continued to brush her teeth, knowing both things would annoy her mother.

  “I want an explanation,” Lady Zarla said, her hands held in front of her, her shoulders squared. She might be in Merit’s sitting room, but she was clearly the mistress of the house. “Changing at a ball. What if someone had seen? What happened to your second dose of tincture? And why didn’t I hear a single word about it until after you’d disappeared? My own daughter, and I’m the last to know.”

  Merit held up her toothbrush. “Can I at least finish brushing my teeth before I submit to your interrogation?”

  Lady Zarla harrumphed and flounced her way to Merit’s settee. “Deserting halfway through—you barely spoke to Latimer, completely ignored Freddie, and you only danced once and it was with Tevin. Hardly a good showing on your part. I thought you were going to make a real effort.”

  “I am making an effort. I’m fine, by the way.”

  “Don’t get smart with me, young lady. I didn’t ask because I’ve already spoken to Ellery this morning—not that they would tell much. Still, you will submit to a checkup before you go anywhere.” She leveled a scowl at Ellery. “I assume that this time I will get a full report. That shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”

  Merit flicked her eyes to Ellery, catching the weary smile on their face before they set their leather bag down and turned back to face Lady Zarla. Ellery didn’t even get a chance to open their mouth.

  “If you say ‘patient confidentiality’ to me one more time, I will scream,” Lady Zarla ground out between her teeth.

  Merit’s rescue came from Kaiya. “I gave you my report, Lady Zarla. Leaving early was necessary for Merit’s health and well-being, which I believe you have put in my care when you’re not around. Unless things have changed?”

  Lady Zarla’s nod of acquiescence somehow managed to be both graceful and irritated.

  “Then trust me to tell you if that changes,” Kaiya said.

  “Fine.” Lady Zarla turned her attention back to Merit, who chose that moment to step into the bathroom and gargle her water in an unladylike fashion before spitting it into the sink. “Merit, please.”

  Merit wrapped her robe tight around her and took one of the chairs across from her mother. Kaiya stayed standing by the door, and Ellery sat on the window seat. Ellery would give Merit a checkup, but would wait until her mother was gone.

  “To make up for last night, I’ve accepted an invitation on your behalf to a grand dinner being thrown at Cedric Fedorova’s home. You will also be meeting Latimer of Huldre this morning.”

  “Mother—”

  Lady Zarla waved her off. “Don’t argue. You owe me for last night. The only person you spoke to for any length was that dreadful DuMont boy.”

  “Fine.” Merit pulled her feet up into the chair, covering them with her robe. “Why Latimer, Mother? I understand the logic of everyone else, but the prince?” She watched her mother very carefully as she responded.

  Lady Zarla fussed with her dress, her foot jiggling. “He’s got impeccable lineage.” She adjusted her bracelet.

  She’d lied. Merit was sure of it. Oh, the lineage was important, but that wasn’t the reason Lady Zarla had chosen him. Merit could let it go. Why did it matter? Except it felt like, once again, her mother was making choices for her life without discussing them with Merit. She needed to draw a line, and this was as good as any. “And?”

  Lady Zarla frowned at her. “Do I need another reason?”

  “Yes.” Merit watched her very carefully. “In this case, I think you do.”

  Her mother fidgeted for a moment before she gave up and straightened. “If you must know, he was added as a favor to the queen. Huldre is a thorn in her side—the only parcel of land in Pieridae that isn’t under her rule.”

  “And marrying me would fix that how?”

  “The queen is looking at this long term. Your children could inherit both the barony and his kingdom. She’s seeing it as a peaceful way to join the lands.”

  Merit drummed her claws along her thigh as she considered. It had the stamp of the queen on it—she thought years and steps ahead of anyone else. “What do you get out of this concession?”

  “The queen agreed that, should our effort to break the curse fail, I could adopt an heir of my choosing. Someone to shepherd our lands and people after we’re gone.”

  Merit
threw her hands up in the air. “And why didn’t you discuss this with me?”

  “Why should I?” Lady Zarla asked, affronted. “My barony, my decision.”

  “It’s mine, too! I—never mind.” Her mother would never understand. It wasn’t that she disagreed, but that she’d had no say in something that would affect her.

  “Merit—”

  Merit turned her head so she could gaze out the window. If she looked at her mother right now, she would cry, and she couldn’t bear it. “Ellery needs to examine me, and then I need to get ready for the day.”

  Merit could hear the rustling of fabric as Lady Zarla stood. Then she waited, because she knew her mother would want the last word.

  “I won’t contest anyone on that list, Merit. But I don’t have to tell you that the queen’s choice should be given special attention.”

  Merit didn’t respond, counting the seconds until she heard the door shut quietly behind her mother’s retreating form.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Now that the dragon has left the cave, how are you feeling?” Ellery asked, pulling up a chair in front of Merit.

  “Do you want me to leave?” Kaiya used one hand to vault over the back of the settee and land on the cushions where Lady Zarla had sat. She sprawled indolently, one boot hanging over the side, the other on the floor. Kaiya had returned to her usual ensemble of black everything—from shirt to boots.

  Merit managed a small smile. “You clearly expect to stay. No, I don’t mind. Please do. You need to know.” Her mother probably did, too, but Merit wouldn’t tell her.

  Ellery rolled back Merit’s sleeves, then picked up a wrist and took her pulse.

  Merit considered how to answer Ellery’s earlier question. “Remember that time we snuck out to one of the local barn dances, and I drank something called white lightning, and I—”

  “Aired the paunch all over my shoes?” Kaiya asked.

  Merit winced. “Yes, that.”

  Ellery let go of her wrist before tipping Merit’s chin up to get a better view of her eyes. “Then you must feel right awful. Because I remember the White Lightning Incident, as I refer to it in my diary.” The healer quickly and methodically went through the rest of the exam as they spoke. “Well, you’re dehydrated, I can tell you that. Lots of water today.” Ellery dug through their bag and pulled out a small packet. “I would recommend a day of quiet and rest, but you’re not going to get it. So when the inevitable headache blooms, here’s some willow bark tea to take the edge off.”

  Merit took the tea, knowing she’d need it. “I should get ready before Latimer gets here.” She stood, retying her robe. “What about tincture?”

  Ellery considered their answer as they put away the rest of their things. “I’ll tell your mother that you shouldn’t have any today but leave the final decision up to you. Be careful, Merit.”

  “I know,” she sighed, looking at Kaiya. “Want to be a third wheel today?”

  “It would be my fondest wish, Merit,” Kaiya said, a faint smile on her lips.

  * * *

  • • •

  Merit ultimately decided that she’d be best served as a beast for her date with Latimer. She was tired, and even after the tea she felt lousy, which wouldn’t be as apparent in her beast form. Besides, Latimer was incredibly, awfully handsome, and she didn’t wish to remind him that she, well, wasn’t. If she went as the beast, her looks were out of the equation.

  She donned a light cotton day dress patterned with lemons, the material covering her from neck to ankles. Her walking boots were buttery-soft leather, embroidered with ladybugs and whimsical greenery. She chose a straw hat with a lighter veil—her face would be obscured, but she’d be able to see. Merit didn’t want to rely on Latimer to lead her around. Last, she grabbed a parasol, found Kaiya, and was ready for the prince by the time he arrived. She tried, very hard, not to wonder where Tevin was.

  Latimer didn’t say a word about her cursed state as he held out a hand to help her into the waiting hack before offering a hand to Kaiya. Once they were in, he paid the fare and joined them inside. He was much more casually dressed today—his hair pulled back into a low ponytail, his shirt the style seen more in the rural western baronies.

  “That’s . . . a lot of fringe,” Kaiya said, looking at Merit.

  Latimer held his arms out so they could get the full effect. “It’s great, isn’t it? I know people in the city prefer to take their fashion from Tirada or the Ivani Islands, but there’s something so rugged about the western rustic look.” He shook his arms. “I really like fringe right now.”

  Merit wheezed a laugh, glad that the veil obscured her face. Kaiya handed her a handkerchief with a completely straight face. “Allergies.”

  They chatted on the drive, Latimer being surprisingly easy to talk to as long as you kept the topic light. He could converse effortlessly about fashion, for example, and horses, but couldn’t offer up much in the way of his thoughts on the use of mage tech. When the hack came to a halt, Merit was surprised to find they were in front of Godling Arestia’s city home. The godling hadn’t lived in her residence for years, but had opened up the grand estate for tours.

  Latimer took Merit’s arm in his own, while Kaiya wandered behind them. “I took a gamble that you hadn’t been here before. So many of us don’t take advantage of our local history.”

  “You’re right,” Merit said, deciding not to mention that the reason she hadn’t gone was that she wasn’t overly fond of anything godling related after her curse. Still, it was an amazing place. Palatial and intricately landscaped gardens took up the front of the house, and the back had a grove of fruit trees. The home itself was seven stories, with cupolas and a peaked tower, the top studded with so many chimneys it looked like the roof had broken out into hives. All told, it was a stunning creation of wood and mortar, and yet Merit took an instant dislike to it. She was reminded of the way some plants give off a sweet scent to lure in unwary insects, only to trap and digest them.

  Latimer took an almost childlike delight in reading the markers that had been set up to tell visitors about the history of the house. Despite her lack of enthusiasm for the place, she enjoyed it with him. He went out of his way to charm and draw her into conversation.

  “There are one hundred and sixty rooms, forty-seven fireplaces, and six kitchens,” Latimer whispered as they walked down one of the hallways. The hallway itself was lavishly papered, interrupted by paintings of dogs. Sixteen paintings so far. Merit had been counting.

  “What I don’t understand is why you would have two separate ballrooms.” Merit ran her fingers through the strings of beads hanging off a lampshade as they walked past. “In case you wanted to throw two dances at once?”

  “Maybe she threw big parties,” Latimer said, “and put the really great people in one ballroom, and the so-so people in the other.”

  Kaiya leaned close and examined a painting of a litter of spotted dogs, nestled in a basket. “I think one of the ballrooms was for dogs.”

  Merit snickered, imagining dogs in fancy dress, bowing and waltzing and drinking punch straight from the bowl. “Oh, I’d love to see that.”

  “According to the plaque down the hall, she hates dogs.” Latimer tipped his head up to read yet another plaque. “I think it’s all the hair.”

  Merit paused midstride. “But there are so many dog portraits. Why do that if you don’t like dogs?”

  Latimer shrugged. “Maybe she only likes the idea of dogs.”

  And that, Merit thought, is godling mentality in a nutshell. They like the idea of things, but can’t stomach the reality.

  Though she enjoyed Latimer’s company, she found the whole house to be depressing. It was a gigantic home that no one lived in, filled with paintings of dogs that were loved by other people. By the time Latimer dropped her off at home, her feet and heart we
re sore, and she was ready for another dose of willow bark tea.

  CHAPTER 16

  THE SPINNAKER

  Though it was midmorning and the sun hung bright and cheery in the sky, in this area of town, the tall, close buildings kept anyone on the street from noticing it. They also blocked the breeze, causing the stench coming out of some of the alleyways to linger. The cobblestones were worn, but spotted with rubbish and broken bits of things, making Tevin wish he could buy shoes for some of the children running around. Through innovation and magecraft, humans were spreading into the nicer neighborhoods now open to their new wealth. The reverse wasn’t quite the same. The poorer sections were overwhelmingly human.

  Amaury doffed his bowler—worn only under protest—at a passing group of gentlemen. From their clothes and demeanor, it was obvious that they were young fairyborn lords, slumming it with humans and looking for adventure. Though it wasn’t early for Tevin, it was still early for them, making him think they were heading home after a night of carousing. There certainly was no good reason for such a group to be down among the pigeons, as it were. Even Val’s lip curled in disgust at their attitude. Then she shoved her hat further down, covering the tips of her ears. Val didn’t want to be associated with them, even if they were as far from her as apples from wagon wheels.

  The gentlemen glanced at Amaury, sniffed, and turned away, a genteel response so bred into them that it looked choreographed. Which meant they didn’t notice when Amaury palmed two of their money purses, handing them to Tevin, who tossed them to a pair of street urchins. The boy and girl didn’t question their luck, and instead disappeared down a nearby alley.

  “Tell me again why we’re here?” Tevin handed over a couple of coppers to a flower girl, tucking a fresh pansy boutonniere into his buttonhole before handing a similar one to his brother and another to Val.