Curse Breaker

by Jaclyn Roche

  Grab your copy of ONCE UPON ANOTHER WORLD and discover 22 twisted fairy tales with a happily ever after unlike anything you've ever read before.

  Authors included in the box set are: Monique Singleton, Joel Crofoot, Sloane Murphy, Zack Hacker, D.E. Chapman, Erin McFadden & K.L. Bone, Jaclyn Roche, L.R.W. Lee, JB Trepagnier, Silvana G. Sanchez, Cassidy K. O'Connor, Jude Cocaigne, M.L. Garza, Hunter S. Jones, Aldrea Alien, Amari Ara Dreamer, D.C. Gambel, Trinity Hanrahan & Krista Ames, K.A. Fox, Christa Ann, and Ashlee Nicole Bye, Iris Sweetwater & Chandra Trulove Fry, Lianne Willowmoon & Phillip Shadowdragon

  https://www.jaclynroche.com/once-upon-another-world

  Sneak Peek at Charming

  By Jaclyn Roche

  Prologue

  Quartets of majestic carillons hung within only the highest turrets, four in total; each constructed to represent one of the cardinal directions. These spires were the tallest of the many joined to the resplendent, and well-fortified, castle that sat atop the peak of the crag. The sixteen harbingers knelled only for death and war. Neither intent produced a joyous sound nor evoked feelings of happiness amongst the people of Cinder and those within earshot. The bells hadn’t rung for a quarter of a century, not since truce brought about the end of the centuries-long feud between the human and the Fae. The Great War, as it became known throughout Tìr nan Daoine Mallaichte, Land of the Cursed Peoples.

  One day, that had seemed like any other, broke the prolonged silence from the illustrious heralds. None of the seers predicted it would happen. There weren’t any omens indicating what was to come. The days prior to the life changing event, the skies above stayed clear of clouds and the sun poked over the horizon each day surrounded in a periwinkle cloak. Dark, ominous purples and blues didn’t paint the heavens punctuated with clashes of thunder and lightning - the usual foretells preceding the warning signal. There was nary a sign that predicted that life for Elle, Princess of Cinder, was about to take a dreadful turn for the worse.

  The sounding of the alarm happened in the early hours of the morning; before the roosters crowed or the townsfolk woke. The sun had barely begun to crest over the horizon and the waves outside of the princess’s windows lapped at the steep rock face the ancient stronghold was built upon. If she leaned at the right angle, Elle could see and study the movements of many guards on this side of the fortress and she did occasionally. More often she stared out over the ocean as the crests of the waves pushed and pulled against the rocky coast. She often watched the Southern Ocean as if she were waiting for something, anything beyond the sea creatures, to make itself known.

  The castle was positioned with precision on the peninsula, so the back and sides were protected by jutting out into the Southern Ocean. The steep cliffs acted as natural barriers to invasion. Should intruders surmount the bluffs, the walls of castle were impenetrable; the bastion and additional tactical safeguards would and have held off attacks. The embattlements of Castle Deas had never been breached. If Elle’s father, King Cinder, had anything to say about it, they never would be.

  Elle hadn’t heard the ominous sound pealing from the grandiose quartets before that horrific morning when they announced her mother’s, Riona the Fair’s, death. She hadn’t been born yet during the Great War though the elder servants would regale her with tales. The alarm was more terrifying than she could have ever imagined. The news that preceded the signal equally shocking and unexpected. Tanda, her mother’s most trusted companion, woke Elle prior to the announcement to the people of Cinder and report the queen’s passing. She broke the rules and risked imprisonment to impart the few details to Elle before the turrets clamored with noise and vibrated the furniture within the building.

  Dread became an uninvited and unwelcome guest as the bell tolled out announcing her mother’s death to the people.

  The people that misunderstood her.

  The people that hated her.

  Chapter One

  The tintinnabulation of the grand carillons carried on as tradition demanded ringing out each morning thereafter for a month as Dread settled within the princess. Dread that followed Elle through the days. Haunting every move. Much like her lesser peers when she had been allowed to mingle with inside of the castle.

  The children of the court nobles would watch Elle as they learned to embroider or play the pianoforte together. They’d stalk her every move; make her spine tingle, but they would never ever speak to her without being forced to.

  Dread became her only friend in this time of mourning. It was the only feeling she could count on. Dread made her heart skip a beat now as the pallbearers carried her mother’s glass casket along the stone pathway to the Hall of Past Kings and Queens. The place where she would look down upon her visitors, should she have any beside Elle after today, for eternity. Dread held her breath when the King, her father, collected her himself this morning. Dread made her skin crawl when he moved her hair to cover the pointed tips of her ears. The shame that flooded her for being different was hers and hers alone. Dread made her shake as she placed her arm through his. Her desire to recoil from her father’s touch was all her own, though to blame it on Dread would have made more sense for her. Dread moved her woodenly through the castle halls, past the bowed and curtsied servants, past the whispers and looks, down the stairs to take her place at the head of the hall with the guests of the King. Elle would have no guests. No one to hold her while she cried for a mother taken too soon in her short life as Fae were purported to live for hundreds of years. Dread allowed the King to escort her from the locked tower without a fight or word to the contrary. Dread was not welcome, but there was naught she could do to make Dread leave.

  Queen Riona lay locked in a glass cabinet frozen at the moment before her death dressed in a ruby jeweled gown with golden fabric and thread with crown to match. The outfit much more befitting a wedding not her funeral. Beautiful even in un-death. Dead but alive in the most horrible tradition of her father’s people. One Elle would have rather abolished. People and beings not allowed the peace of the afterlife or the knowledge that they would one day give back to the land as the land had provided for them was a terrible thing to look forward to. She much preferred the ways of her mother’s people, the ways that she had been allowed to know though stories her mother shared. Her mother had wanted to be lain naked as she was born on a bed of flowers atop the roots of her people’s sacred trees while those roots ushered her into the earth cradled within their hold. She would sink into the ground and nourish it as it had sustained her these many years. This was the way it should be ensconced in a ring of flowers and candles, with prayers of old faith to nature deities and not this new religion of gods and goddesses.

  The people spoke in hushed voices as she moved away from her father’s hold to take her place at the foot of the pillar that would hold her mother for all time.

  The whispers grew louder carrying bits of conversation to Elle’s ears. How young the queen was. How beautiful, even in death. So sudden, her passing. She was not one of them. Good riddance to the Fae. Maybe the King will marry his own kind next. Will Elle still inherit the crown. Will the Fae invade now that their princess is dead. The Fae don’t die so easily. There was something foul afoot. That one Elle had to agree with. There was something foul going on. Her mother had been overcome with a sickness, and as far as she knew from stories heard from under the stairs as a child, the Fae never fell ill. Tanda assured her that her mother would heal and recover. It wasn’t anything Elle should concern herself with.

  Elle, a half-ling, yearned to see the world of her mother, to meet anyone who was like her, but it had been denied to her. Now that her mother was gone forever frozen in undeath, Elle feared she never would meet another Fae. Especially when she was locked away in the tower room, for her own safety. She always knew that her father was ashamed of her, but now she had the proof. He said that times were troubled. There would be an inquiry. Accusations even. The Fae don’t get ill. The Fae don’t die like her mother had. Her mother’s kith
and kin would return and want answers. Answers, her father said, he didn’t have for them. He was scared for her life. Elle didn’t believe him, not a bit. She knew he was more concerned for the kingdom and the people he ruled. That rang true to her. Elle knew better now that she was older. The only reason he would hide her away was for his own ambitions. He needed her for something, but she didn’t know what. Perhaps he was afraid she’d run away on those adventures of hers and not marry someone to further the Kingdom’s advantages.

  Elle’s fingernails curled into the palm of her hand. The sting on flesh welcome as it held back the flood gate of tears. She stood before the people who openly feared and hated her mother and herself. Pointedly, she held the stare of each of the troublemakers; refusing to look away first. She dared them to speak ill of her mother. One by one each busybody quieted their wagging tongues.

  All but two dropped their gaze at the force of her glare. Elle had never had the opportunity to meet these two before. Lords? Dukes? Who might they be? Decorated in such finery. The silk embroidery lining their heavy fur lined boots spoke to outsiders as no southerner would wear such clothing in this heat. Though it might be the beginning of winter the sun still bore down upon them.

  Had she not been locked away for the last month, mayhap she would have been privy to the guest list.

  A visiting ambassador and his dashing brother? How cute he was with the glint in his sapphire eyes?

  Elle cringed at the thought. A thought could become a wish and she would never allow herself to dare to hope for a match with one like him. But there the two men stood. The rakish looking one was the taller and more fit of the two as if he had seen manual labor or soldiering fields. Younger siblings of noble houses were often put to tasks befitting their lesser station in the household so perhaps that was it. The second man stood almost as tall, but a forehead shy of the debonair one. She had no doubt that they were related as he had the same charming sapphire eyes. The shorter one’s strength seemed to be more of the mind. He looked to be fit and athletic underneath the clothing that clung to his physique. His expressions curious and observant while he took in the Great Hall of Past Kings and Queens. He seemed especially interested in how the people interacted with one another, the king, and her. He was as wide as the devilish one, but lacked the bulging veins and sharply defined muscles. Their coloring was within a few shades of bronze as the other and had the same red undertones. She would think the two birthed at the same time, if she didn’t have a keen perception. The playful looking brother’s eyes were more perceptive than the older looking one and he had an adorable weathered crinkle at the corners. The shorter of the two didn’t seem to take in his surroundings, but then did he need to when he had an entourage and a capable brother at his arm?

  The seemingly younger of the two stepped forward as the silence between the three bordered on awkward in front of so many. He bowed to her, truly bowed, with a flourish as if he meant to pay deference to her. Upon his rise his smile was contagious, and Elle found herself quite curious about this noble before her and wanted to know everything about him. Including why his forearms threatened to burst out from the cloth when he reached forward to grasp her wrist. Elle audibly gasped. His touch was lightning on her skin. It danced and skittered all the way to her heart and below, lower. The two broke with protocol instead of being introduced to her afterward in the receiving lines they dared approach her and in front of so many. Did they know she was a half-ling? Did they care? They must know. She imagined they must have been here some time at least because her father didn’t look the least bit chuffed that they hadn’t presented themselves to him. They had to have already been introduced to the king if they spoke to her now or dared to touch her so delightfully.

  “Your Highness, Royal Princess Elle of Cinder, may I introduce myself, Prince Hanrai, and my brother, Royal Prince Raynor of the Kingdom of Elrad. We are deeply sorry for your loss.” He placed a kiss on her inner wrist, a custom of his people perhaps, then turned dropping his clasp of her arm so his brother could make her acquaintance.

  His brother the Royal Prince of Elrad stepped forward and bowed after clasping her arm in a similar manner. There was no energy skittering across her skin. Nothing to arouse the heat she had felt curling low in her abdomen.

  After he made his condolences, he also placed a kiss though on her palm this time. Again. Nothing. Elle feared he was here now to court her and if so, he was the wrong brother.

  Did it matter? She doubted her father would allow her to marry. He had plans; he would tell her mother. She would be sold to the highest bidder, whomever could serve her father best.

  Was the Royal Prince of Elrad the highest bidder? She had heard that they were a strong people with many ships and soldiers prepared for war at a moment’s notice. No, they worshiped pagan gods and goddesses. Her father would never tolerate a union with pagans, would he? Could he after denying the pagan traditions her mother wished for her interment?

  She couldn’t dare wish.

  Could she?

  Han felt something he had never felt before in his life.

  Jealousy.

  Jealousy when his brother, the Royal Prince of Elrad placed a kiss in the Royal Princess of Cinder’s palm. Did he feel the bolt of heat and desire that Han felt at her touch? Was that the effect Upper Fae had on others or just her? Han had met Fae just not Upper Fae like her. Almost all Upper Fae had left after the war. The lower Fae had not been born with wings and the ability to fly; so those who could not fit on the boats or in arms of the flyers were left behind to make their own way.

  The lower Fae were a welcome part of his Kingdom - well almost. Trolls weren’t welcome... And Giants weren’t either... And Sprites, those pesky little things were trouble... Gnomes were a terror... Oh... Han never did realize how many Fae there were. Nor how many weren’t welcomed amongst humankind. After seeing how Elle was treated here, mayhap he should think more about how he could help the Fae at home.

  Look at him being all altruistic. Helping others. As if he could help anyone with his reputation. Any help he had to offer would be tainted. Unwelcome.

  Despite all those depressing thoughts, jealousy still bloomed within his heart as the heir to the Throne of Elrad took up the princess’s arm in support against the gossipers. Elle stood a tad shorter than Raynor. They made a handsome couple from his view of the back of them. Her russet hair glittered in the sunlight and was styled in an elaborate coif at the nape of her neck. Braided in such a way there were hearts in the middle of each meeting of the braid. Amazing. Not one to usually regale the hairstyles of royals, Han was interested in everything that was Elle of Cinder. Her neck barren of jewels slender and shimmery as if dusted with glittery powder though he knew from stories that it wasn’t a powder that made her shimmer. Upper Fae shimmered in the light, pixie dust attached itself to her and set her apart from others. A jewel he wanted to pluck for himself. But his brothers and he had a rule. Royals were not to be rolled in the hay of his stables. Definitely, not ones his brother had come to court. If Han was the sort who sighed, he would do so now. Never had he wanted to taste another as much as he wanted to taste the Royal Princess again. But she was forbidden fruit. If Raynor were taller and wider, then it would be exactly what he and Elle would look like together, at least from behind. Did he dare to wish for anything again? But wishes were dangerous.

  Sometimes they came true...

  © Copyright 2020 by Jaclyn Roche

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  La Serenissima

  Beyond the Grand Canal's darkened waters, dim torchière lights draw most eyes to the old palazzo.
Its once pristine white walls, now tinged in black and green mold, withstand the pass of time.

  Thick windowpanes of opaque glass allow little for the prying eye to discern. No more than my body's silhouette remains visible as I stand before the shattered single-mullioned window. A shadow standing still behind the quadriphora, that is all they see.

  Through gaps of broken crystal, the sky is clear and stars shine brightly in this cold December evening. And as I stare at the tranquil Venetian scenery laid before me, the staggering question pierces my immortal brain.

  Relentless, unforgiving… this question has tortured me all evening. And the answer is one my wretched heart resists—no matter how loud it echoes in my skull.

  As I place my hand on the window, the coldness of the evening's breeze filters through my fingers and brings ease to the unfathomable limbo of uncertainty where my mind dwells.

  The world outside stands on the verge of entering the eighteenth century, and the time's changing tides strike hard against my wretched spirit as I struggle to make sense of the horror this room withholds.

  I find some peace staring at the passing boats at this late hour and listening to the Canal's waters softly crashing against the palazzo's gates in a hypnotic cycle, wave after wave.

  The green velvet-lined armchair appeals to me more than I thought it ever would; exhaustion takes fast hold of my heart and I need it—even if the mere notion of sitting on that chair repulses me beyond description.