A Curse So Dark and Lonely

by Brigid Kemmerer

  I cannot remember the last time I’ve felt this longing.

  In truth, I’m not sure I ever have.

  The door to Freya’s room eases open. Harper jumps and takes a step back.

  Freya’s eyes flash wide. “Oh!” She bobs a curtsy and speaks softly. “Your Highness. My lady. Forgive me. I was going to stoke the fire in the bedroom.”

  What a coincidence, I think. I was considering the very same thing.

  I turn to Harper before my thoughts can get ahead of me. “I should leave you to your rest.” I bow, then take her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles. “Until tomorrow, my lady.”

  It takes every ounce of self-restraint I possess to walk away.

  My chambers are a well of darkness, the fire burning low in the hearth. The first season, I was asleep by now, well fed and worn out after a long day of hunting with the king and other nobles—men who had no idea what was in store for them. Exhaustion rides my back today as well, but it is no match for the tiny thrill of anticipation skipping through my veins.

  I leave my candles dark, enjoying the quiet after the noise of the day. I shed my weapons, my bracers and greaves, then begin to unbuckle my jacket.

  A long sigh escapes my chest. Hope is a luxury I cannot afford. An emotion I cannot dare to feel.

  Hope blooms in my chest anyway, a tiny bud giving way to the first light of spring, petals daring to open to reveal the color inside.

  I want to know it’s real.

  That must mean it’s real for her.

  The last buckle gives and I toss the jacket on the chair. When my fingers find the lacings of my shirt, hands settle on my shoulders. I freeze.

  “Prince Rhen,” says Lilith. “I’d forgotten what a fine form you have.”

  I jerk away and turn to face her. I want to snatch the jacket back from the chair. “What are you doing here?”

  She moves closer to me, her eyes dark in the firelit room. “You once enjoyed my company in your chambers,” she says. “Has so much changed?”

  “You know what’s changed.”

  She steps closer, until a breath would bring my chest against hers. “Did you have a nice visit in Silvermoon? I’m amused at your attempts to convince the people you have secured this mysterious alliance. Tell me, what will you do when they discover your family is not in exile, but is actually dead?” She feigns a gasp. “Will you disclose that it happened by your own hand?”

  “If I can save Emberfall from Karis Luran’s army, I will worry about that day when it comes.” I point at the door. “Leave my room, Lady Lilith. You are not welcome here.”

  She lifts her hand to stroke down my chest, her fingers trailing a line of squirming discomfort along my skin that makes me gasp and jerk away before I can stop it.

  This will lead nowhere good. I seize her wrist. “What do you want?”

  She steps into me, pressing our hands together between our bodies. It’s like clutching a coal against my rib cage, and it pulls a low sound from my throat. I attempt another step back, but now she holds fast.

  “I can stop this so easily,” she breathes. “Have you never considered wooing me to break this curse?”

  “Get off me.” I want the words to be a threat, but they’re more of a plea.

  She rises on her tiptoes to brush her lips over mine, a cruel perversion of the moment I shared with Harper. I turn my face away, pain stealing my breath. “You—you are not to interfere.”

  “I interfere with nothing,” she whispers against my cheek. “Your broken girl is nowhere to be found.” A pause. “Do you wish to call for her? Perhaps she would like to beg for more—”

  “No!”

  Lilith laughs, her breath a rush of heat along my neck. “You are so easy, Rhen. This is why you will not reclaim Emberfall. This is why your kingdom would have fallen, even without my interference. Do you know I tried to seduce your father first, but he turned me away?” She leans down close again. “The King of Emberfall knew, even then, that succumbing to the wrong temptation could undo a man.”

  My father, the great philanderer, who would bed any courtesan in eyesight, had the wherewithal to say no to Lilith.

  Ever the fool, I walked right into her trap.

  Another bolt of failure to join the others lodged in my heart. I clench my eyes closed. “You will leave Harper alone. You will leave Grey alone.”

  Her tongue traces the length of my jaw and I shudder. “Of course, Your Highness. You know I would much rather play with you.”

  Her hand catches my chin. Turns my head. Her lips press against mine.

  My jaw is locked, but it does not matter. This is the worst kind of torture. Something more than pain.

  I think of Harper standing in the clearing, her hand on my shoulder, gentle fingers wound through mine. I want to know it’s real.

  I think of Harper throwing a knife at Lilith. Please stop hurting him.

  Humiliation burns my eyes, my throat. When she breaks the kiss, relief nearly breaks me. I want to shove her away, but I am pinned to the wall. My breathing is rough and ragged.

  I cannot look at her. I can barely move. My hands are still in fists, my muscles so tense I am trembling. Any hope that bloomed in my chest has now withered and died.

  “You do not wish for my attentions?” she says.

  I have to swallow to form a word. “No. Never.”

  “Such a waste.” She lays a palm against my cheek, and I flinch. She smiles. “How do you propose to rally your people when you are so easily cowed?”

  “I will do what I can to save them.” A chilling thought wraps around my chest. “Are you going to ruin this, Lilith? Are you working with Karis Luran?”

  “I have told you already that I have no hand in this. I can even swear that I will allow your charade to play out.”

  I blink at her. It’s rare to obtain such a direct oath from her. “You will not interfere with my people.”

  “I will not interfere with your people.”

  I’m nearly breathless. “And Karis Luran. You will not reveal our plans—”

  “I will not reveal your plans.” Her palm is still pressed to my cheek and she leans in. “I truly wish to see her take Emberfall from you, Rhen. I shall enjoy watching.”

  This promise gives me strength. I straighten. “You shall be disappointed.”

  “Your Highness. Consider the state of your people.”

  “I have—”

  A white light steals my vision. I’m suddenly in the middle of a village. Rain pours down. Bodies are strewn everywhere. Men. Women. Children. Some have been dismembered. Arrows jut from others. Blood mixes with rain to form glistening puddles along the road. In the distance, homes are burning, smoke a thick plume pouring into the sky.

  My knees threaten to collapse, but I blink and I’m staring at Lilith again.

  “You show me the future?” I choke out.

  “No. I show you what the soldiers of Syhl Shallow did to your border city.”

  My mouth opens, but my room vanishes again. A city, this time, larger. Wildthorne Valley. A brawl has broken out. Men who are too thin to fight are battling over the remains of a roasted deer. A punch is thrown and a woman ends up in the mud. Men step on her trying to get to the dead animal. A child screams from somewhere beyond.

  I cry out, but I’m back in my chambers.

  “I show you the present,” Lilith says, her voice low and vicious.

  “Stop,” I whisper. “Stop this.”

  My room disappears again. We’re in the middle of a sunlit village. The scent of fish fills the air, but it is not Silvermoon. Another water-dependent town, though, and the people seem better fed. A young boy carries a plank laden with fish across his shoulders. He’s whistling, and a woman from a nearby hut calls out, “Jared! Hurry with those to the fishmonger! The day’s half-gone!”

  “I’m going, Ma! I’m going!”

  I can breathe. This scene isn’t too terrible.

  A low growl fills the air. The boy’s wh
istle is cut short. He turns, a look of sudden panic on his face.

  “Jared!” screams the woman. “No!”

  A black shape rushes from the edge of my vision and tackles the boy. The creature is three times his size. Part wildcat, part bear, all claws and teeth and snarling rage. It tears him apart in less time than it takes me to blink. One moment, boy. The next, nothing but so much blood and flesh and viscera.

  The woman screams so long and loud that I do not realize I have reappeared in my chambers. I’m on my knees, my arms gripped across my abdomen. I’ve bitten my lip and blood burns on my tongue.

  I know what my creature does. I have heard stories from Grey. From my people themselves.

  I have never seen it. Never with human eyes.

  “Please,” I whimper. “Please stop.”

  “Oh, but Your Highness, I believe you deserve to know the true state of your people.” Lilith’s eyes flash. “Before you lead them into war, you should know them all. Before you tear Harper limb from limb, you should know what you’re capable of.”

  “No.” A tear slides down my cheek. “Please.”

  She has no mercy. My rooms disappear. Lilith continues her onslaught.

  No matter how much I beg, she does not stop.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  HARPER

  I wake up, still swooning. Sunlight beams through my open windows, the warm autumn air carrying the scents of honeysuckle and cut grass. I half expect cartoon butterflies to start flitting around.

  I would have kissed him. I wanted to kiss him. I can see why he’s failed at this curse so many times—he keeps so much of himself hidden. Even now, I feel as though I’ve barely scratched the surface. This arrogant front makes me wonder what was expected of him before the curse destroyed his life. People here seem afraid of royalty. They seem afraid of him. Based on my first days here, I understand it. But now I’ve seen the truth. Underneath the arrogant distance, he’s caring. Deeply loyal. Gentle, in fact. So unexpectedly patient. He seems afraid to show that side of himself, as if his people will abandon him if they see it.

  But he so genuinely cares about protecting them. That weighs on him more than the curse, I think.

  The thought of finding him this morning leaves me a little giddy. Even Freya comments on it when she arrives to plait my hair.

  “You had a nice evening with the prince?” she says coyly, then bumps my shoulder with her hip.

  I blush so hard my cheek aches.

  Freya ties off the braid. “I believe he is in the arena with Commander Grey.” A teasing pause. “If you were curious, my lady.”

  I’m curious.

  I expect to find more than just Rhen and Grey in the dusty circle, but they’re alone, weapons swinging with near blinding speed. They’re striking fast, each clash of steel making me flinch. Sweat dampens their hair, telling me they’ve been at this for a while.

  I slow as I approach. The air feels different. Wrong, somehow. The blush fades from my cheeks as I try to figure it out.

  Rhen ducks and rushes Grey, hooking his sword to disarm him. Grey slams into the ground, and Rhen follows him down, sword aimed for the other man’s neck.

  Grey snatches a dagger to stop the blade in time—and his other hand braces against Rhen’s forearm, holding him back. Their ragged breathing echoes through the arena.

  Something about this feels very personal. Like I’ve walked in on an argument. I want to back away and ease out of the arena.

  But then I hear Grey’s voice, low and edged with strain. “Your fight is not with me, my lord.”

  Rhen swears and shoves himself back, turning away to sheathe his sword. His expression is tight, his eyes hard and set. When he finds me standing by the railing, he seems startled.

  The tension on his face does not ease when he sees me. He’s as cold and distant as he was the day I arrived. The butterflies that had been frolicking in my abdomen seize up and die.

  He offers a curt “My lady,” then turns and walks to the side of the arena, where a small table stands with a pitcher of water. He pours, his movements tight and forced.

  Something happened.

  “What’s wrong?” I say.

  “Nothing at all.” He drains the glass and ducks back under the railing. He still hasn’t looked at me. “There could be another attack like in Silvermoon. We should be prepared.”

  I glance at Grey, but he is watching Rhen, too. He’s reclaimed his sword, but he hasn’t sheathed his weapon.

  He watches Rhen like he anticipates another attack.

  Probably a good thing, because Rhen draws his sword.

  I duck under the railing and step in front of him before he swings.

  He sets his jaw. “Move.”

  “No. Tell me what happened.”

  He steps closer to me, each movement full of barely contained rage. Finally his eyes meet mine. “You will move. Or I will—”

  “My lord.” Grey’s voice is quiet behind me.

  For a moment, I’m not sure Rhen’s going to stop at all—but then he does. He looks away. “Please, my lady. Leave us.”

  “If something happened,” I say slowly, “I need to know. If we’re in an alliance, I need—”

  “We’re not,” he says.

  His voice is so soft that I think I must have misheard him. “What?”

  “There is no alliance, Harper. It was foolish to think I had an avenue to success here. My people have been run into the ground. Your army is a charade. If we have to fight for Emberfall, who will stand against Karis Luran’s army? There is no one.”

  I’m so confused. None of that is different from where we were two days ago.

  The door to the arena slams open. Freya stands in the doorway, a little breathless. “Your Highness. My lady.”

  Rhen does not look away from me. “What.”

  “Jamison and I took the food to the crossroads as you directed, but the people who arrived were too numerous to feed—”

  “As I suspected,” Rhen says. His expression turns weary and he sighs. “Have Jamison tell them we will send more tomorrow.”

  “We did. But they followed the wagon back to the castle. We told them we would bring their message back to you, but there were far too many to refuse, and—”

  “How many?”

  “Hundreds, Your Highness.”

  “They followed you here?” Rhen glances at Grey and starts for the door. He flashes me an angry look, which says I told you so better than his voice could.

  I wince. He did tell me so.

  Rhen strides through the doorway. Each word he says is tight and clipped. “I will speak with them.” He glances at Freya. “Where is Jamison?”

  “Standing guard at the castle door.”

  “Against hundreds?” says Rhen. “They could tear him apart.”

  He jogs up the steps to the Great Hall, and I do my best to follow. Mournful music plays this morning, low strings plucked on a harp. Hopefully not an omen.

  Freya lags behind to walk with me. “Word must have spread quickly,” she says, her voice a quiet rush. “These people are not all from Silvermoon. At least a hundred people were in line when we arrived at the crossroads. More quickly joined.”

  “Are they fighting?” I say as we reach the top of the steps and hurry after Rhen and Grey. A sick feeling churns in my stomach. Rhen wanted nothing more than to protect his people—and now my idea might be causing more harm than good.

  “Fighting?” She’s surprised.

  “Yes,” I say. “Isn’t this some kind of protest that we didn’t send enough food?”

  Rhen reaches the door and swings it wide. Sunlight pours into the hall. After his worry about hundreds of people tearing Jamison apart, Rhen storms through, Grey right beside him.

  A roar goes up from the crowd outside, and I run for the doorway, sure they’re about to swarm him, to attack us all.

  People have crowded onto the lawns and the cobblestone walkway. Freya was right—there are hundreds. Mostly me
n and boys, but many women and girls, too. Some are armed and wearing cruder versions of the armor I’ve seen Rhen and Grey wear. Others are in simple clothes, most too heavy for the temperate weather surrounding the castle.

  They’re not yelling.

  They’re cheering.

  “For the good of Emberfall! Long live the crown prince!” Their voices ring out in the courtyard, echoing against the stones of the castle walls.

  Rhen is staring.

  Jamison moves forward. “Your Highness, they are here to fight. We could not stop them from following.”

  “To fight,” Rhen echoes.

  “To fight the soldiers from Syhl Shallow,” Jamison says. “To join the King’s Army.”

  I step up to Rhen. His eyes are still locked on the crowd in front of him. His expression is unreadable.

  I think of his anger in the arena. At least when Grey is Scary Grey, I know who his targets are. With Rhen, I have no idea what’s going on inside his head.

  “You wonder who’s going to stand against Karis Luran’s army,” I say quietly. “I think you’re getting your answer.”

  The crowd is still chanting. “For the good of Emberfall! Long live the crown prince!”

  And because he is nothing if not enigmatic and calculating, Rhen seems to swallow his anger, then moves to the edge of the steps and raises a fist. “For the good of Emberfall!” he says. “For the good of all!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  RHEN

  I focus my thoughts on what I can control. Strategy. Tactics. Planning.

  I block what I cannot.

  Lilith.

  She left before daybreak, but I did not sleep. I soaked in the bath for hours, sinking beneath the surface, holding my breath until my lungs screamed for release. I’ve drowned myself before, but I’ve never wanted it as badly as I did this morning. Every vision she showed me is locked in my thoughts, so vivid I could have lived through each tragedy.