Bonds: A Cursed Six novel (The Cursed Six Book 1)

by Clarrisa R. Smithe

  Both their gazes fell onto the parchment.

  ...but as it is I who will someday be king, I know I cannot fear. Kings do not fear. Kings lead and they protect—a good thing too, that I have such lovable, handsome features. Already am I servicing my subjects by promising them beauty in the lineage. Sad is it that I cannot promise the same of Eleanor's contribution. She may give our kingdom gargoyle heirs, but at the least I can try to make her proper.

  Less wild.

  These were his concerns for the future. It was natural to have them, yet these seemed so very strange. Eleanor could not quite put her finger on why. Neither did she understand Astrid's soft giggles from behind her. It seemed that Ethan wished to make her into more of a lady, something which Eleanor would never allow him to do.

  She flipped a few more pages.

  ...I do hope she will come to like me as much I like myself—as much as I like her.

  "Awww!" Astrid exclaimed as the passage was completed. "He's a tortured soul who wishes for your love and affection!"

  "Shut up." Already she could feel her cheeks burning. Astrid was the one trained to receive compliments and to react accordingly when someone expressed any form of admiration. Eleanor never had much need for that, at least until now.

  "Oh he wants you to like him back! He obviously likes you, Eleanor!"

  "N-no, he doesn't!"

  "He's a tortured soul!"

  "No!"

  "'Oh Eleanor, how tortured I am...'"

  The growl of irritation shut Astrid's idiotic impression of their brother up. They looked alike, certainly, and whined enough to be carved from the same stone too, but it was a poor imitation.

  "Shut up. We're moving onto the next one."

  The pages were flicked through again once more, until her finger settled on a shorter detail and one which filled her with much greater delight than the previously consumed passage.

  ...scouring the maze with Brother Thomas, though he promised never to tell; how was I to know it was rabbit poo?

  "Gods..." Astrid remarked.

  Tears were close to spilling already from that excerpt as Eleanor attempted to recall the day. None sprung to mind, but it seemed that Brother Thomas would never have to spill the juicy details for Ethan's diary had done enough.

  "Can you imagine... can you imagine... how—"

  As though summoned squarely by the girl's entertainment, the creak of the chamber door pierced their merriment as severely as if it had been their mother's arrival.

  Her eyes widened and Eleanor may well have been the rabbit itself as she turned to stare.

  The man himself.

  This was just perfect. Even Astrid was grinning from ear to ear.

  This was the creature that the explorers had awoken, or rather, the creature who'd returned to his lair following a hunt. The remnants of whatever animal he had slaughtered clung dried and bloodied to the tips of his blond hair, yet this barely made him fearful. His expression was that of a log-headed individual, just as she had suggested Astrid was earlier. And yet, both girls were explosions of expression. Their giggles cascaded together, an airy mocking tune which occasionally grew deeper and more menacing.

  "Here he is, our tortured soul."

  "Eat the poo poo!"

  Their taunts came at once and with no mercy, for why should it be shown? This was a golden find, worthy of display to all the courts in the land, and even those beyond!

  The stupid imitation returned. "'Oh Eleanor, why do you hate me so?'"

  "Oh poo, I've got some between my tee—"

  It seemed then clarity struck that teal gaze of his, as the prince went from motionless ignorance to charging boar. In fact, in that moment, he looked no different from the one he had strung up high to his walls.

  "You entered my chambers without my permission!" he practically bellowed, may as well having grown the tusks to match. He was looking to neither of them, his eyes pinned to the diary in her hand as he moved to snatch it away.

  "No, no, no!" Astrid sprung into a state of animate defence, protecting her sister, or rather the diary, from Ethan. "It's ours now!"

  Eleanor shrieked once again. "It's hilarious!"

  "And you are so tortured, you should not cause more to be inflicted onto your poor self," Astrid mocked. "My poor tortured baby brother with his little diary."

  Ethan came up short, lips pulling back as he sneered into her face, "The only one who will be tortured are the both of you if you do not return what's mine and leave this instance! I mean, honestly," His tone flipped to his signature haught. "Are your lives so drab you must seek the epics of my own?"

  "I think this is beyond an epic, Ethan," Astrid informed him coolly, her laughter subsiding for a brief moment as she stared the beast in the face.

  "I agree completely—"

  "It is simply terrible," she carried on over him. "But very entertaining all the same."

  This seemed to renew his anger, or perpetually offend his tortured soul, for he chose then to abandon his pursuit of the diary...and tackle Astrid to the floors, his battlecry pinging off the stone walls.

  Eleanor watched as the two of them went crashing down to the floors, Ethan barring his forearm over Astrid's chest while demanding, "Take it back!"

  It appeared as though the victor of the battle would be quickly determined if she did not make a move to intervene. Already Astrid was struggling beneath him, attempting to claw at him like a trapped cat rather than to apply some force to push him off her. Her sister grunted and was panting already, for she was no fighter.

  "Tor—"

  Astrid became too winded to complete her taunt, and Eleanor knew that their side, that of mischievous sisters who wished to enrage the sibling wedged between them in age, would fall victim to his masculine strength.

  But it just so happened, that the way the two of them were positioned, Ethan straddling her much like a steed, left his legs parted, opportunity begging to be taken. It was then she decided to exploit his greatest weakness. The area which would have even the strongest of men tight-jawed and rolling after one touch of forceful contact.

  She held the diary in her left hand while the right prepared a mighty swing. Without a moment to waste, her fist collided with the soft area with a definitive thump, before she quickly grabbed the thing in her hand, as if grasping an apple.

  "Squeal for me, you pig!" Deep and menacing was her voice, without an ounce of remorse over what she had done. "Squeal!"

  And Ethan did squeal, though it was more liken to a howl. Face reddening, he whipped his head around to glare, though seized up at the first sign of resistance down below, a small, raspy screech squelching from between his teeth.

  Of course, this was exactly how he found the three of them.

  "What exactly am I looking at?" A'zur asked from the archway.

  4

  ~ PRINCE A'ZUR ~

  Somber greys came to rest on the scene depicted before him. Astrid, winded and panting whilst pinned to the floor. Ethan, unkempt and aggressive atop her, snarling at the female behind him: Eleanor, squatted and gleefully ensnaring Ethan's crotch with a wild, ecstatic glint in her eyes.

  "Let go of me," he heard his brother ground out.

  Ah yes, the future of their kingdom. Showcased at its absolute finest. He couldn't have portrayed it more accurately if he'd tried. It was almost comedic and pathetic enough to alleviate the burdensome thoughts churning in his mental recess.

  His father's words echoed hollowly from afar.

  "You are to escort her to Redthorn the night before the sacrifice, counsel her in matters of their crown prince. I hear that he is unwed, an oddity for one his age. What more, given they know the rumours about us, despise us for it, it is critical you ensure Astrid amends the prince's . . . doubt."

  "And should we fail, Father? Should our image condemn us from the start?"

  "Then I would see no reason for either of your return to this castle."

  Spoken just hours prior. Now the news
lay like spiked prongs through his chest, digging and scathing, intent on inflicting scars not even he knew how to heal—or pretend were nonexistent.

  He was losing her.

  Always had he known the day would come where their father's ambitious incentives would careen the wheels of monarchical affairs into motion. And for some time, he'd fooled himself into believing he would welcome the day, celebrate the opportunity to finally dip his toe in the riotous game of politics and power. But now that such a day was here, he cursed his faulty mind and body, for it detested the thought of willfully cutting a Misseldon from the cloth. Handing his sister over to some . . . some foreigner.

  A man whom none of them had ever met. A man he had no interest in getting to know.

  Alas, duty superseded personal desires, whereas personal desires were granted proceeding duty. A'zur sat heavily at his brother's desk, an exquisite seating to the brawl afoot. He'd have been content to witness the small form entertainment, if only for a moment longer, but it couldn't go on. More pressing matters were at stake.

  Much like calling off a domesticated animal, he made a noise at the back of his throat and gave a bored flick of the wrist. "Eleanor, please release him."

  The youngest girl's right eye twitched in irritation as she gave a stubborn shake of her head. "But it's funny."

  "I can't breathe..." Astrid grunted from beneath their brother.

  "Shut up," was Eleanor's firm reply.

  "Will it be funny when I report your skipping out on today's lesson to Mother and she has you spend countless hours with Master Beecham?" he murmured down to her.

  Eleanor scoffed. "You wouldn't do that because your precious Astrid would get in trouble."

  "Don't tell, big bro- Ethan stop!"

  Ethan appeared constrained, stock-still as he seethed, "I will as soon as Eleanor lets go of me!"

  Astrid would be immune to any evoked wrath due merely to the fact that she would not be here much longer. Their entourage was set to depart in four days' time, all of which would be spent preparing for the departure. All the while, their parents would love nothing more than a feasible excuse to tether Eleanor to her tutelage while preparing for their youngest brother's sacrifice.

  Elbow to desk, he rest his chin at the pad of his palm and sighed. "Eleanor. Please."

  Physical altercations were reserved for the younger four of them, seldom Astrid and himself. However, A'zur was not opposed to it, if necessary.

  "I'll stop squeezing his stones once he stops pressing on Astrid's jugs!"

  "Eleanor!" The shriek from Astrid was piercing. "A'zur get him off!"

  He summoned patience with a deep intake of breath, lids scaling lower as his teeth clenched. His thumb tapped twice at his chin, his leg crossing over the other. There was no telling how Ethan got into such a compromising position, but if the nature of the scene was any indicator, he knew with certainty it was the girls' fault, for never had Ethan welcomed them in his room prior.

  That, and Eleanor clutched a leather binding in one hand as though her life were dependent on it.

  The exhale came much slower, but rather than find a gust of patience riddling after it, he located a mountain more of ire. He didn't have time for this. "Ethan."

  Unlike Eleanor, his brother snapped his gaze reluctantly to A'zur's face, read the stringent undertone and scoffed in defeat. Gradually, careful not to shift the lower half of his body, he slid his arm from over Astrid.

  The hungry gasp of air may have come from someone submerged beneath water for a prolonged time. Astrid rose to a seated position, her hair a messy halo around her pinkened cheeks.

  With an irritated sigh, one that may have emerged from a child who had been instructed to put away their toys, Eleanor released Ethan's nethers in a final, harsh tug, eliciting one last yelp.

  "We still read your diary," Eleanor muttered as a smug grin spread across her lips.

  "It was funny, big brother," Astrid insisted as she came to her feet and sauntered slowly over to A'zur's side. Her hand rested against his shoulder and despite her recent ordeal she offered him a soft smile. "He is a tortured soul."

  And that was about the size of it, was it not? Their father wished for Astrid to deploy herself in some unknown kingdom, gain the favor of its much older prince, when it was clear to see she was still a child. Perhaps, he'd admit, he himself was bias. Perhaps he was destined always to see her as little more than a girl, incapable of caring for herself, let alone going off and gaining a husband.

  The hand on his shoulder, it beckoned forth a frown. These things, these little inconsequential things, they would cease upon their arrival. And so too would his childish lovelorn, he told himself.

  Ethan was cupping the area between his legs, glaring with cheeks reddened from either fluster or embarrassment. Though when he rose, A'zur realised too late, the darkening crimson was none other than rage.

  Ethan shoved Eleanor, hard, and looked about ready to do so again before A'zur rose and grabbed him by the collar.

  Rather than confront either two, the steel greys rounded to Astrid, perturbed. "This is what you allow them to digress to?"

  He knew she was not at fault, but suddenly he couldn't help but question what would come of them if she behaved in such an ill manner once in Redthorn, before people who actually mattered. While he trusted her to have common sense enough to elude such poor behaviour, he didn't trust her performance to be flawless when clearly she retained old habits.

  Astrid's lips pursed close and she gazed at him from beneath her fair lashes, appearing both innocent and guilty of the crime of childish misbehaviour. "Well, we thought that we might find the two of you here. There is little harm in arriving early and we planned to wait for you, but Ethan left his diaries out on the side. They were screaming to be read. I would never do that to you of course, big brother. You would never be so careless to leave your belongings out for the world to see."

  "That does not make it right!" Ethan fired back, earning him a firm shake.

  A'zur had to take a moment to compose himself, for between his own agitation and the unlawful things done to his body when she spoke 'big brother' so delicately, he feared he would be the next to befall misbehaviour.

  He released Ethan, then looked to Eleanor. "Return his journal where you found it."

  Eleanor clutched the volume close to her chest and gave a defiant shake of her head. "No. I want to read it. He talks about eating poo in here."

  "When A'zur tells you to do something you have to do it," Astrid informed her.

  "You didn't have a problem with this until A'zur told us off."

  "Told you off."

  "I don't care. I want to read it." Eleanor shuffled over to A'zur and held out the book as though in offering. "Could we read it together? Like we used to do with our stories? Maybe Ethan can do his own voice so it's like we're there, in his thoughts, instead of just reading it."

  He snatched the leather up instantly and slapped it into Ethan's waiting hand. "I truly wish you all would not do this. I cannot stress enough the importance of trust we have amongst one another, because there will come a time the faces you see now will be the only ones we can trust. But clearly my word means so little to you, Eleanor. I do appreciate the respect you afford me. Truly, it's touching."

  Not waiting for a response, he whirled around to pin Astrid with a less sarcastic glare. In fact, he felt it soften, and soften, until the spark faded completely. "I need to speak with you on an important matter, though it may be best we not do so amongst children."

  Ethan bristled, having collected all of his journals from the desk, now holding them in a cage to his chest. "I'm not a child. Only Eleanor is. If anything, Eleanor should be the only one banished."

  "Your head should be banished up your bum!" Eleanor retorted.

  Ignoring the quarrels of their younger siblings, Astrid afforded A'zur a brief nod. "Of course. We should talk about this where we won't be interrupted by petty squabbles."

  He returned
it, prepared to make his leave, but was surprised to find Ethan stepping in front of them. His lips were downturned, eyes averted questionably sheepishly.

  A'zur waited.

  Now his brother's lips were puckering into a moue, followed by a tsk. "I dislike being excluded," he finally divulged, the reluctance brimming through seashell eyes. "And Eleanor is sorry for being Eleanor, so tell us. Tell us all the big news."

  He leveled his gaze studiously, but understood his brother's urgency naturally. Too often the younger siblings were swept beneath the rug when it came to courtly affairs—any affairs, he should say, and this seemed to affect Ethan most of all, for despite all the boasting his younger brother asserted, the boy was adamant in that he wished to someday be a good king. A better king. Which shouldn't have been too large of a feat. As A'zur saw it, any male who was not Robert would suffice. Even one as immature as this one.

  His eyes slid to Eleanor, then dismissed the girl to land squarely back to Astrid. How was one to deliver the delicate subject of shipping one body to another region in the name of alliance? Among the multitude of texts sprawling the length of the castle's vast library, those in which he read time and again, there were none specialising in how to cope with the loss of a loved one. More specifically, being tasked with handing them off to another man.

  Thus, he chose to apply steel to his words, a means to fortify his crumbling resolve. "I was summoned by Mother and Father this morning to discuss upcoming matters regarding Thellemere's outreach. Its expansion." The word was a delectable against his palate, as he craved nothing more than expansion of his homeland, yet its underlying meaning cut deep. Expansion equated to their separation. "As you are aware, they've had their eyes set on four possible suitors."

  There had been two border lords who held a significant relation amongst their subjects, those who were more loyal to their lords than the crown. It was perhaps this very reason Father had come to exclude them from the pile of possibles. Then there had been Prince Dunstan of Pyracea. The most preferable union seeing the deluge of misfortune the current riffs had brought about between Thellemere and Pyracea. But with both kings horn-to-horn, it seemed more likely one side would bring an army to the wedding as a 'gift'.