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

by Clarrisa R. Smithe

  At around ten in the morning. Apparently they had tried knocking, yet when there was no response Mother had granted permission to enter without consent from Astrid herself.

  It was her room and nobody dared enter without her say.

  She did not mind being up early at all, no, absolutely not. She absolutely adored hurling the empty contents of her stomach into the bowl. Where even was A'zur that day? Each morning he came to help her, but not today. So much for being a caring big brother.

  But at least her skin had cleared up, even though beneath her eyes were hollow rings. How foolish she was to think she would be instantly glowing. Arrogance had led her to assume that she would be free of the curse of sickness because of her royal blood, but no, she retched and vomited like a farmer's wife.

  "All this trouble you cause," she muttered as her hand grazed over her belly. It remained flat mostly, though at times she swore she could discern a swelling. Just a little one mind, but it reminded her that her child was there.

  And today was the day she was going to announce it to the world.

  The world being Father, Mother, and Ethan, apparently. At least she would have another brother there to act as a shield in case either or both parents decided to stab her with the fish knife.

  Fish, disgusting.

  Fish that would no doubt be cold as the others were waiting for her. Lovely.

  She rose from the dressing table stool and made her way from her room. The dress she had chosen was casual enough, though she had taken to favouring necklines which allowed the hummingbird to be on show. The second most precious thing she had taken from Prince Tristian. She would be able to offer additional thanks for his gift soon enough.

  The sapphire dress was cut simply and trimmed with an ice blue floral seam, with sleeves that were slightly puffed and rested an inch above her elbow. Slippers had been chosen instead of shoes, for it was family after all, and she had grown rather fond of style after witnessing the little silken moccasins worn by the ladies of Redthorn during the King's grand games.

  She turned a corner and found they were all waiting for her and was thankful she had a seat between her brothers. It would be a person their parents would have to go through if they wished to throttle her. A'zur beside Father, Ethan beside Mother. Would her younger brother defend her from the wrath of the queen?

  "You're twenty minutes late."

  No, about six weeks.

  "S-sorry Mother," she spoke timidly as she took her seat, A'zur casting her a knowing glance. "S-s-s-sorry Father."

  Her father hardly glanced up from his meal, possibly not even aware of her advent.

  It was Ethan who disregarded what crackles of tension rippled over the table, glancing over at her with a rude comment seen in the set of his mouth, no sooner relinquished past his lips. "Did all that heat in the Thornston's home damage your head and give you a stammer? You sound dumber than Eleanor on one of her good days."

  He hadn't changed in the slightest in the days she'd been gone, nor the weeks since her return. If anything, he was even more persistent in his vexing ways than before.

  The stammer was something she intended to rectify before she returned to Prince Tristian. Mothers-to-bes ought not stammer, lest it cause their children to be both with the same affliction. Regardless of the legitimate issue, she formed her mouth into a tight line before she chuckled.

  "Are you going to rant about that in your diary or do the pages stick together more these days since you speak more with a squeak each passing day?"

  Her little brother seemed less concerned with her retort than their mother's reaction, his eyes flitting her direction once before returning to his own meal, busying himself with the pork sausages of which he hated.

  The queen dropped her fork upon her plate and glared across at her daughter. Truly, she knew her own attitude was foul but she was done with this. Done with being told what to do by her stupid parents. Done with being told she was not good enough when she was carrying the key to an alliance with Redthorn. Done with being beaten-down by her little brother.

  "Your tone and language is disgusting," their mother commented. "Already you have returned to us a failure. Now your father has negotiated a deal with some northern or island lord. You were bred and raised for greatness and look what you have become. An absolute mess of a girl."

  The recount summoned one of her father's infamous sounds of agreement as he paid mind to his meal with greater stoniness than before, the temperature in the dining hall seeming to plummet beneath the topic itself.

  "There is still time," said A'zur, perhaps the calmest, most removed face of them all. He rest a cool, patient gaze upon their mother, ascertaining, "The prince was very taken by her, and these things—delicate correspondence between two highly prolific households—would not and could not be rushed."

  Then he shrugged. "There could be a raven headed this way as we speak."

  She had been blinded by foolish hope and the desire to be adored by Prince Tristian in the early weeks following her return home. Waiting, gazing out of windows for a raven or a rider. But there had been nothing. For all she knew he had forgotten about her and was moving onto the next girl who caught his eye.

  "Do you think it is wise for her to sit around here, festering, for a man who, as is my understanding, is promised to another? The wedding is due to take place at the close of summer, I have heard."

  She carried his child. He had taken her maidenhead. He had to marry her.

  If he did not and gave his hand to another, she would be nothing more than a glorified mistress. A mistake of a rough and tumble.

  A panicked huff escaped her, alerting the sharp hawk-like gaze of her mother once more. If that was to occur she would have not only ruined her own life but that of her child. She would truly be the most terrible person who ever lived.

  "A marriage you and Father knew of before sending her off." A'zur slid his gaze then to Father and his frown turned into something more than disdain; it was tables turned, palpable disgust. "As though you wanted her to go to this prince and make a fool of herself and fail. As though you were searching for any excuse to add amusement to the misery you both shroud yourselves within."

  King Robert looked up from his platter and his stare was as flat as it was glacial. "We have spent fifteen trying years on that female beside you, our expectations fortified by our will and desire, only to have her return as a beacon of incapability, a hindrance by nature, a worthless girl of which I so foolishly, for the faintest of breaths, placed my hopes in. That is just pathetic enough to humour me." He was not laughing the slightest. "So do trust me when I say I need no excuse."

  Her mother was nodding along in stern agreement and it was quite clear she was not doing so out of mere need for a wife to obey her husband. No, she agreed with every word he said.

  Astrid could argue back and declare that she was no failure, that she had done something quite amazing and would be a queen someday. She could shout the news he was going to be a grandfather at him. Both were tempting, yet dangerous.

  She chose a different path. Encouragement for the future rather than dwelling on her own supposed failed existence.

  "My baby will not be pathetic. He will be loved and I will encourage him properly."

  One could hear the howl of the wind outside the castle as silence took over the meal.

  She glanced briefly at her mother who wore a wide-eyed stare. Suddenly the water jug was so interesting to her. A jeweled hand rested against her forehead.

  To her right, Ethan paused midchew, cheeks filled with food as he stared between everyone, no doubt clueless as to why everyone visibly blanched, lips parting for stunned air to seep inside.

  To her left, A'zur stiffened the way he used to when he could sense the coming strikes of one of their parent's hands.

  And beside A'zur, her father's eyes flooded with fury for his understanding was not hesitant and questionable, but instant and objective. Like Mother, he dropped his eating utensil,
his head lifting to stare her down in a way that once sent her fleeing behind A'zur but was now met with a stare of her own. Her pupils were large black chasms in the clear ice fields.

  Never before had her heart beat so furiously, not even during previous moments of extreme panic, nor when Tristian had got her so very excited.

  The right side of her mouth tugged upwards. When had she last smiled at her father?

  When had he last looked to her with such vehemence?

  His voice was gentler than midwinter snowfalls. "Surely you must speak of a future child, for surely my daughter could not have been so insolent and imbecilic."

  A slowly-splayed hand across her middle was her answer.

  Insolent and imbecilic? Maybe. The bridge that would form an alliance between Thellemere and Redthorn for years to come? Certainly.

  A fist pounded on the table and the anger exploded from him all at once as he catapulted from his seat and leered. "Answer me!" A raging bellow saturating the halls, filling the space with nothing but him. "What has my wretched daughter gone and done when her instructions were so simple?"

  She jumped in her seat, before remembering herself and settling down. Already she could feel the desire to protect her young as she wrapped both arms around her middle. If he wished to swing, he could go for her face, though she would be pretty no longer. He would not harm her child.

  The queen looked up slowly and shook her head. All fire had been dampened within her and she sighed. "She's pregnant."

  "Obviously, woman!" he shouted, as though he were entirely perplexed with how such a statement could exit her lips so casually.

  If it was so obvious, why did her father probe her so? Shouting would not make the matter go away.

  Astrid nodded as she continued to stare at her father. "Yes. I am going to have a baby."

  His head whipped around, contempt narrowing his eyes to grey, eerie slits. "Oh, are you then?"

  From her peripheral, A'zur shifted closer to her, but it seemed not even he had words to placate the situation, for she'd launched the reveal without giving him a moment to prepare.

  "Obviously."

  Gods, she was foolish. Gods, she was brave. Gods, did it feel good to defy him!

  The tone clearly startled him out of a reply—or thunderous bay, as was his way, his hands splayed on the table as he loomed. Hair an exact mimicry of her own pale influence was on its way to disarray as it stopped at his shoulders, curled around his rough, harsh image. His lips pulled back, a snarl, and yet he couldn't act on the anger. They both knew it.

  Fists formed at the ends of his arms, the deadly glare turned to A'zur. "So this is what you let your sister go and do? Allow her to spread her legs, allow that male to squirt some halfling creature into your whoring sister out of wedlock?"

  A'zur's mouth opened and their father flung the iron-caste goblet across the room, the wine trailing a spew of purple content on the spotless mahogany. His rage was back to her. "And you thought you could come back here? Eat from my table? Feed that thing inside of you which I did not once permit?!"

  Of course she had to return to Thellemere, for it was her home as much as it was her father's. The gods knew that well enough, even if he did not. She was about to scoff at him, until he referred to her child.

  That thing.

  She burned with rage at the thought, for it was a little boy or girl.

  The chair crashed to the floor, and A'zur was directly beside her, standing with her. Her father's height dwarfed her but the table separated them still. "My baby is not a thing!"

  "Sit down," was her mother's command, though it lacked confidence or sharpness. She sounded tired.

  "Too fucking generous a term," her father grated.

  "Shut up!"

  A sharp knife was grabbed and stabbed so deeply into the wood of the table, it was impossible to think her father didn't wish it were her. "Were you so vain," he started hollowly, his voice as massive and perilous as the winds perusing the kingdom this instant. "So careless, so weak and naive, as to lose the only quality you had to that male, or did you have a separate hope? Did you think we would never find out?"

  "I was not weak and naive. I planned this." She felt herself smile once more and shook her head at her father's foolishness. "My plan was brilliant and brilliant it remains."

  "Your plan was foolish. You think that smile is warranted and earned? Do you think..." He was shaking, his mouth a tight line before, "No, you do not ever think. You never did."

  "I have trapped the prince. He will have to marry me now. Father, think."

  "Oh, I am. You are not. There are those who marry their actions—and those who bury them. Do you think you are invincible? Do you believe that kingdom will not catch a whiff of what has passed over this table and sooner have you meet your end than become tethered to their crown prince for life?"

  "I am surprised you care so much for my life, Father." She spared a glance at the knife. "I am surprised you do not wish me dead. Mother, too."

  Her mother broke her silence and scoffed. "Do not be foolish, girl."

  Her father straightened, clear his throat and dismissed the feud entirely.

  "Perhaps," A'zur finally spoke up, that voice of reason in the heart of chaos. "Perhaps it is not a terrible thing to foster hope, Father. The prince seemed a decent man, his parents, the king and queen, quite reasonable monarchs. They acknowledge our kingdom's worth, Astrid's worth. It is feasible they would accept marriage before murder."

  But King Robert was sitting once more, reassuming the tranquil meal by displacing his dispatched knife and using it for its intended purpose, calling for a servant and maid to remove the signs of his outburst and fetch him a new goblet—exactly like the last—and refill its contents to the exact portion prior to his daughter's awful news.

  It was only then she noticed how close A'zur was to her, the compromising arm of which he had wrapped around her middle urging her back to him as he steadily assessed their suspiciously calm father. Both these men were forged of the toughest, most enduring steel the caves could ever yield, and the gentle yet sure band of her brother's arm around her was the greatest shield any expert blacksmith could smelt.

  She settled against him and briefly imagined that it was their child she was carrying. It would not make her love the child more, but she longed to give him a baby. He would care for and love him or her in his own way, but it was never to be. She found his hand and squeezed it, both to signal her gratitude but to also provide distraction from her sullen thoughts.

  A'zur cleared his throat. "Father—"

  "Marianne, have our daughter arranged for a carriage without delay. If she has such faith in her prince's entrapment, he can have her. She is not to take anything of which my crown has afforded her save that of the days' travel worth of dresses and nightgowns, proper victuals and guards who would still pledge themselves to such a heinous, deplorable girl."

  The queen glanced at her husband. "Without any message sent prior?"

  "Surprise the fuck, what do I care?"

  Her eyes widened as she considered her father's instruction. The fact that she would have to tell Tristian, his father and all the rest of them, the news of her pregnancy was not part of her plan at all. She squeezed A'zur harder and shook her head.

  "D-don't you think I should come with gifts?"

  "Do not push your luck, girl," her mother snapped. "You are fortunate you have avoided the ordeal of abortion."

  She did not have a clue what that was, and frankly, she was certain she did not want to know.

  Her father was no longer looking at her, his gaze passing right over her as though she herself had passed right from existence. He looked to her mother instead. "No messenger. No raven. Only necessary provisions. If I find one thing more anywhere in the vicinity of her carriage, abortion may not be off the table."

  "The thing inside her belongs to Redthorn," her mother informed him, and Astrid had no desire to correct her, even though Mother was being evil. "
It's Prince Tristian's property."

  "Then Prince Tristian can provide her with anything else she should need. I do hope our daughter writes to us on the happy home she's made."

  That was another one of her determinations. A happy home. The best she could make with Prince Tristian. He would come to accept their situation, even if the baby did come as a surprise. All would be well in the end. He did like her, after all.

  "What if he does not marry her?"

  "He will. He will," Astrid interrupted. It was something that was not worth considering, for Tristian would marry her. He would be her husband and she would be his wife.

  Of course her father ignored her. "Then they will dispose of her one way or another. Even should they be foolish enough to marry her to their son, contraire to what our ignorant offspring may believe, Redthorn does not share in their ignorance. Their king and their queen will know exactly what this girl has done, even if their son does not. There will be no happy ending to come of this. And frankly, I've more important matters to turn my thoughts to."

  "An alliance with Redthorn for years to come, Father. That's why I did it. I secured it the fastest way possible, so you might live to see it."

  "Some girls," he told her mother. "Think their fathers oblivious and as naive as they are prone to be. Some girls believe their father does not know they committed a dishonourable act for purely selfish reasons. Because they were weak and afraid and incapable of carrying out their original duties. Some girls."

  "Perhaps it is good to be rid of her, lest she bring any more shame onto our kingdom and house."

  The burning rage returned, suddenly, like a flash of lightning igniting a fire rather than the steady burn of a hearth, and A'zur's grasp tightened around her in warning. It was disregarded. If she was to leave soon, when would she ever get a chance to state how she truly felt?

  "There's enough shame on us already with Father starting silly wars and Mother being a hag. I know who my King and Queen is." Her free hand swung and almost grazed Ethan's face as she prodded a finger. "My king is here. My queen is wherever you banished her to because you're too afraid of competence."