A Curse So Dark and Lonely

by Brigid Kemmerer

  I have no armor. No weapons. Grey’s sword is razor sharp. The blade bites into my skin like a million shards of glass. I fall—but Lilith falls, too. Where our skin connects, fire rages into my body. Rhen’s roar coalesces into a screech that goes on forever.

  Grey drags Lilith off me and throws her to the ground. His dagger is in his hand.

  Her hand snakes out to grip his throat. “You swore.”

  “I did not.” Grey drives his dagger into her chest. Blood flows around her hand at his neck and he makes a pained sound, but he shoves the blade down for good measure.

  Her body jerks. “You can’t—kill me—”

  “I cannot kill you here. But I can kill you—”

  They vanish.

  I’m left gasping. The pain in my side is unimaginable. All-consuming. Time passes. An hour. A year. A second. An eternity.

  A hand touches my face. Warm breath brushes my cheeks.

  Before I lose consciousness, a male voice speaks. “Harper. Oh, Harper, what have you done?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  RHEN

  This time, I do not keep a vigil alone. Zo sits with me. Harper’s brother sits with me. The healer Noah spent hours stitching Harper back together.

  When he was done, his voice was grim as he said, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  She’s been given a dose of sleeping ether to make her rest, but even that made Noah grimace and fret about dosage and something called a coma.

  So we sit. And we wait.

  There are many things I do not know.

  I do not know if she broke the curse with her action—or if Grey succeeded in killing Lilith and that set me free.

  I do not know if Lilith succeeded in killing him.

  It has been hours, and Grey has not returned.

  Harper may not survive.

  As always, my life seems destined to end in tragedy.

  Jake speaks into the quiet, early-morning darkness of my chambers. “If she dies, I’m going to kill you.”

  They’re the first words he’s spoken to me in hours. Since helping to move Harper to this room, in fact.

  I wait for Zo to contradict him. She does not.

  I sigh, then nod. “I will offer you my blade.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  HARPER

  This time, my return to consciousness isn’t gradual. I jerk awake with a shout and a cry.

  Pain grips me from all sides, and I nearly curl in on myself. Sunlight burns my eyes. I’m lying in sheets soaked in sweat.

  “Shh, my lady.” Rhen’s voice. His hand touches my cheek. “Another nightmare. Be at ease.”

  I blink and his warm eyes fill my vision.

  He goes blurry as tears well up. “You’re here.” The pain takes my breath away, but I can’t stop staring at him. “You’re here.”

  “Yes. I am here.” He uses his thumb to brush the tears out of my eyes. “Zo and Jacob will be quite relieved to hear your voice.” His hand flattens over my cheek, then my forehead. “And your healer will be quite relieved to know your fever is gone.”

  “But—the curse—”

  “Broken.”

  “Broken,” I whisper.

  “Yes.” He brushes an errant lock of hair off my forehead. “It is quite nice to see you through these eyes again.”

  I swallow. “How long have I been unconscious?”

  “Six days.”

  “Six days!” I struggle to sit up and regret it immediately.

  “Easy.” He pushes me back down. “You have many weeks of healing ahead of you.”

  “What about Grey? Is he okay?” I realize what he said about Jake and Noah. “He didn’t take my brother and Noah home?”

  Something in Rhen’s eyes fractures. “Grey did not return.”

  “What?”

  “Grey did not return. He disappeared with Lilith, and he did not return.”

  “Oh, Rhen.” Tears find my eyes again. “Do you think—”

  “I do not know what to think.” He pauses. “He could be dead. He could be sworn to Lilith. He could be trapped on your side if he killed her there. I do not know.”

  I find his hand and grip it in mine, then watch his eyes flare in surprise.

  He lifts mine and brushes a kiss across my knuckles. “I feel as though I have won and lost at the same time.”

  “Me too,” I say.

  Rhen frowns, then kisses my hand again. “I will send for your brother. I imagine you have much to say to each other.”

  Days pass.

  Grey does not return.

  The rumors of the evil enchantress and of the monster’s destruction of Karis Luran’s army fly in wild directions. I hear murmurs of a halfling child who may languish somewhere—but many people have laughed this off as too far-fetched. Rhen does nothing to quell any of them. He is too popular. His alliance with Disi is seen as a victory that protected his people. He has regained the respect and support of Emberfall.

  Jake and Noah are trapped here. They’ve fallen into a routine, and they seem happy enough, though I’ve heard Jake comforting an emotional Noah late at night, when the darkness is absolute and there are no patients to treat, and reality seems more profound.

  Rhen is always busy. Always needed. He visits me often, but more frequently I’m entertained by Zo and Freya and the children. Even at night, Rhen gives me space and privacy, allowing me time to heal.

  A week after I wake, Noah gives me a pass to go for a short walk outside in the sunlight. Rhen sticks to my side, and we’re trailed by Dustan and Zo.

  My abdomen aches, but the fresh air feels nice. We’re in the back courtyard, near the stables, the trellis crawling with vibrant roses.

  “The flowers are blooming!” I exclaim.

  “Yes.” Rhen smiles. “When the curse was broken, fall turned to spring. Overnight, the dried leaves curled up, new buds formed on the trees.” A pause, and the smile slides off his face. “Though we faced many losses, our victory over Lilith and Karis Luran is seen as quite impressive.”

  A victory that meant the loss of Grey.

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I miss him, too.”

  He shakes his head slowly. “He should have been a friend. I feel as though I still failed in so many ways.”

  He might come back. I think it, but I do not say it.

  If Grey could come back, he would have.

  “You didn’t fail,” I tell him. “You saved your people.”

  “I failed,” Rhen says. “I did not save them soon enough. I did not prevent it from happening at all.”

  I’m quiet for a moment. “When Lilith told me my family was in danger, she said that Grey was the one who let her into your chambers. That first night. She bribed him for access. You never mentioned that.” I pause. “But you knew, didn’t you? You’d have to know.”

  He nods. “I knew.”

  “He once told me that he wasn’t blameless for the curse.”

  “Perhaps not, but I allowed her to stay. I could have sent her back out.” He pauses. “The responsibility was mine. The curse was mine.”

  “Do you remember when we played cards and you told me about how your father said everyone is dealt a hand and they have to play it all the way out?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think he’s right. I think you get cards, and you play them, but then you get more cards. I don’t think it’s all predestined from the beginning. All along the way, you could have made a different choice and this all could have ended up differently.” I pause. “Failure isn’t absolute. Just because you couldn’t save everyone doesn’t mean you didn’t save anyone.”

  His expression has gone somber. The sun beams down and we walk in silence for a while. Eventually I reach out and catch his hand. His steps falter as if he’s surprised, but I lace my fingers through his and keep walking.

  “There is one area where I still do not know if I failed or succeeded,” says Rhen.

  “What’s that?”

&nbs
p; He stops me, then turns to face me. His hair is golden in the sunlight, his eyes intense on mine. “I do not know if you broke the curse—or if Grey did when he killed Lilith.”

  I study him. He hasn’t asked a question, but his voice is weighted.

  I suddenly realize he’s asking if I’m in love with him.

  My eyes drop. “I don’t know.”

  Which I suppose is the wrong answer either way.

  “Ah.” He doesn’t move, but I feel a new distance between us, as if he’s taken a step back. His fingers unlace from mine.

  I think of the nights we spent sharing secrets. How we’d sway to the music.

  I think of Grey on his knees, offering himself, to spare me. To spare Rhen.

  I think of iridescent scales and quiet nights and throwing knives and my mother.

  I think of choices.

  I think of who’s in front of me, and who may never return.

  Rhen is turning away. He’s not going to push me—that was never his style.

  I catch his hand. “Your Highness.”

  It’s the first time I’ve ever said it without a shred of disdain, and it gets his attention. He turns back. “My lady.”

  I reach up and touch a hand to his face. Pull his mouth down to mine. “I’d like to find out.”

  EPILOGUE

  GREY

  The same dream plagues my nights for weeks.

  Lilith on the gritty, wet pavement beneath me. Neon lights overhead.

  “You can’t kill me,” she says. “Karis Luran told me the truth. You want the truth, don’t you, Commander Grey? About Rhen? About yourself? About the true heir to the throne? About the blood that runs in your veins?” She gasped a breath as I pressed my sword against her neck. “Don’t you want to know how you were the only guardsman to survive?”

  “No,” I say.

  And then I cut her throat.

  A woman is shaking me awake. “Grey. Grey. It’s another night terror. Wake up.”

  My eyes slide open. My mother’s worried eyes stare down at me. They’ve been worried since she found me half-dead in the stables, my throat bleeding from Lilith’s last attempt to take my life, my stitches half-torn open under my armor. She kisses her fingers and presses them to my forehead—something she did when I was a child that I’d completely forgotten.

  “There,” she says. “That will chase it away.”

  I catch her hand. “You’ve told no one I’m here.”

  “You’ll be telling them yourself if you keep shouting like that in your sleep.”

  “Mother.” I sigh, then let her go.

  If what Lilith said was true, this woman is not my mother at all.

  “So serious.” Her hand brushes across my cheek and I flinch away. I remember her touch. The thought that she may be nothing to me causes more pain than when I forswore them all. “They took my sweet boy into that castle and sent home a warrior.” Her voice falters. “For so long, I’ve thought you were dead.”

  “No one can know I’m here.” I swallow, and the still-healing wounds at my throat pull and ache. “You will tell people I’m your nephew. Injured in the battle against Syhl Shallow in the north.”

  “Why?” Her voice is hushed. “What have you done?”

  “It’s not what I’ve done. It’s what I know.”

  And what I remember. Harper’s eyes in the darkness.

  The prince’s grip on my hand as he threw himself off the castle parapet.

  Lilith’s words: Karis Luran told me the truth.

  My blade cut true. I feel certain she died.

  In truth, I am certain of nothing. I did not wait to be sure. She had no magic on the other side to save her.

  But I fled before I was sure.

  “What do you know?” my mother whispers. She touches my hand. Wraps it in both of her own.

  I freeze. Pull my hand free. Open my eyes to look at her.

  “No, Mother. What do you know? What do you know about my father?”

  “Grey?” she whispers.

  “What do you know about my mother?” I say. “My real mother.”

  Her face goes still. It’s not an answer—but it’s answer enough.

  She reaches to touch my hand again. “It does not matter, Grey. It does not matter. I raised you as my son. I love you as my son. No one knows. No one. You were not to know.”

  I think of Karis Luran. “Someone knows.”

  Her face pales. “The king himself delivered you into my arms. I served in the castle. I lost a child at birth. He said that he and I were the only people to know, and if I told anyone, he would know that knowledge came from me. I have never said one word. Never once, Grey.”

  “You allowed me to apply as a guardsman. You encouraged it.”

  “We had nothing. After your father was injured—” Her voice breaks, and I know she is remembering the months—the years—of struggle our family faced. “I knew the king would not know you. He had never seen you since that day. He did not even know your name. You were so eager to apply. I could not take that from you.”

  We were desperate—and I was eager. I remember that, too.

  “The prince is the heir,” I say. “Not me.” I swore my life because I believed that—I cannot unbelieve it so easily. It makes no difference who my father is.

  “But Grey—”

  I let go of her hand. “I cannot stay here.” I shift to stand. “Enough has been said to raise questions. There is already doubt about the legitimacy of the prince. If anyone discovers my true birthright, I will be sought.”

  I have no desire to rule, but I have spent enough time at court to know my desire is meaningless. My very existence challenges the line of succession.

  If anyone seeks me, they seek only my head separated from my body.

  My mother must realize this at the same time. “No one knows.” She swallows. “I have told no one. You can be my nephew, as you said—”

  “I cannot.” I already regret coming here. I have put her at risk.

  “But—where will you go?” She stands, as if to stop me.

  I step around her. It has been weeks, and my wounds have dulled to an ache. My weapons lie in a pile by the door—but they are all marked with the gold-and-red royal crest. “Bury those,” I tell her. “Under the feeding trough, or the manure pile. Somewhere they cannot be found.”

  “But Grey—”

  “I have remained here too long.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I do not know.” Even if I did, I would not tell her. If she is interrogated—and it is likely more a question of when than of if—the less she knows, the better.

  “But you have nothing.”

  “If I learned anything while serving in the Royal Guard, it is how to stay invisible and how to stay alive.”

  She swallows. “Grey. Please.”

  I turn for the door.

  “Grey is dead, Mother. That is all you need to know.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  In A Curse So Dark and Lonely, the protagonist, Harper, has cerebral palsy. Much like a real-world individual who has CP, she is not defined by the condition; instead, it’s something that is part of her daily life. I strove to create a girl who was strong, resilient, and capable—not in spite of any physical challenges she might face, but in addition to them. As Harper tells Rhen, cerebral palsy affects everyone differently. Capabilities will vary from person to person, so her story is just that: a story. Harper’s experience may not be reflective of all people with CP, but hopefully her determination and tenacity will be relatable to everyone. I encourage readers to learn more about cerebral palsy at www.cerebralpalsy.org.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  If you’ve ever read one of my books, you might be used to my acknowledgments dragging on for two to three pages, and I’m just going to tell you that this time will be no different. This book has been a massive project for me. I began writing A Curse So Dark and Lonely years ago, and so many people have provided valuable input along the way
that it’s very possible (it’s very likely) that I will forget to mention someone. If I forget you here, please know that I haven’t forgotten you in my heart, and I’m so grateful for your help. Also, please remind me to buy you a cup of coffee. I owe you one.

  Okay. Here we go.

  First and foremost: my husband, Michael. When I was at a real low years ago, Mike said to me, “When was the last time you wrote something for fun? Not something under contract. Really just wrote something for yourself?” He was right—it had been a while. So I sat down, pulled out my notes about this idea of a cursed prince who turns into a beast over time, and started writing. A few weeks later, I showed it to my agent. A few months later, it was under contract. I often think back to that moment with my husband. It’s a good reminder for me that the storytelling is the best part, and I should never lose sight of it. I’m lucky to have my husband along for this journey with me.

  My mother, as always, is a constant inspiration. You would not be reading these words if not for her unwavering encouragement when I was growing up—and even now. She doesn’t read many of my books, and she might not even be aware of what I write in the acknowledgments section, but she knows I love her, and I hope she knows what a profound influence her positivity has been in my life.

  Bobbie Goettler is my best friend and has read almost every word I’ve ever written, since the beginning, when I was writing about silly vampires running around the suburbs. Thank you, Bobbie, for being such an amazing friend. Your support over the years has meant everything to me. I love that my kids call you Aunt Bobbie, and when they refer to their “cousins,” they include your kids. For a friendship that started on a message board about writing, I think that’s pretty powerful.

  My amazing agent, Mandy Hubbard, is, like, flawless in her guidance of my writing and my career. From supportive text messages to amazing email GIFs to listening to me sob over Google chat—plus all the actual agent businessy-type stuff—Mandy is beyond compare. One of these days I’m going to build a statue of Mandy and put it on my front lawn.