“Do you know where it is?” asked Bloom.
“I do,” she admitted solemnly, “and I have searched for centuries for someone worthy of my secret.” She examined Bloom’s face carefully. “I believe that you are worthy, but I must warn you, this knowledge is a burden.”
“I am no stranger to the weight of burdens,” said Bloom.
“This is different,” she sighed.
“How can I trust you?” asked Bloom.
“Easily enough, since I require nothing from you,” she said, reaching out to him. “Just take my hand.”
Bloom cautiously extended his own hand and held his thumb and fingers apart in a way that allowed the empty space between them to be occupied by the old woman’s cold, ghostly hand. To his surprise, the woman clasped his forearm instead of his hand.
“You will not even make a stone, for I will use your magic as my own,” said the woman.
Bloom lifted his eyebrows, surprised that she knew of his curse. The woman uttered a foreign incantation, and slowly brushed her fingers of her other hand over their united grip. A moment later, the strange blue markings on her skin gathered together forming a pool of blue ink at her wrist. The ink churned and mixed as though it were an enchanted liquid flowing across her skin. Then, the ink began to quickly transfer on to Bloom’s living flesh. At first, a straight blue line raced up along Bloom’s arm, and then he felt it burning up over his shoulder and across his back. Finally, the ink burned down his other arm beneath his clothes. Blue markings spread out over his skin, thinly mapping out an ancient, cryptic pattern. A few traces of the blue ink even appeared upon his face beneath his eyes.
“What is this?” cried Bloom.
“It is the Map of Inquisition!” exclaimed the woman, releasing his hand. Her face was now free of the markings. “I took the map from the scroll, imprinting it on my own skin! The spell I cast to do this cost me my life!”
“So Maddy doesn’t have the scroll?” asked Bloom.
“The scroll she has is nothing more than a useless piece of parchment!” laughed the witch. “Why do you think she does not give it to the wolf? He would be so unimpressed should he discover it’s true content.”
“The wolf?” asked Bloom. He pulled the mirror from his pocket and opened it, wanting to see the pattern imprinted on his back. He moved to unbutton his cloak.
“No!” cried the woman reaching out to stop him. Her ghostly fingers managed only to move uselessly through Bloom’s material hand. “You mustn’t, it isn’t safe!” She began to fade, and drift slowly upwards. The old woman turned her face to the grey sky as if she knew what was happening. “At last!” she whispered happily, overcome with emotion.
Bloom hastily closed the mirror and put it away. “How do I use the map?” he asked.
“Do not use it,” said the woman. “Just keep it safe.”
“You don’t understand. I must use it to save the world!”
“You mustn’t! It will destroy everything should you attempt to use it!”
“It alone can rewrite history!” cried Bloom.
“The Map of Inquisition is more likely to annihilate Windiffera completely than to save it, for its energy is harmful, not kind. It never should have been created, yet no one knows how to destroy it,” said the woman from high above him now. All that remained of her was a dim outline.
“But I must use it!” cried Bloom in desperation.
“That is the burden, to have it, and never use it! A task not for the faint of heart,” said the woman, vanishing completely.
Bloom searched the sky with his eyes but there was no trace of the woman. “Wait!” yelled Bloom. This was not what he wanted. He had sought the map in earnest desperation, and now he wished he’d never learned of it at all! He looked down at his hands. The blue markings were distinctly visible. Bloom sighed, adjusting to the weight of this new burden. He would figure out in time what to do with the map imprinted on his skin, but for now, he had to find out more about Maddy and the man he had seen.
Bloom shifted his focus beyond his hands, studying the tracks in the mud once more. Bloom grabbed his pack and swung it over his shoulder. Taking large steps, he hurried in the direction he had last seen Maddy and the stranger go.
Chapter 37
The Queen’s Contest
Far away, in the Citrulene region, a queen sat on her wooden throne with her chin propped elegantly in her hand. She was a beautiful woman in her mid forties, her every movement suggesting nobility. Her white cloak spilled over the arms of the throne, and a silver crown rested upon her head. The crown came to a peak on her forehead, accenting the stern line of her brows and giving her green eyes a distinct harshness. A messenger was ushered into the hall before her, and he impatiently preformed the ritual of three bows, visibly eager for permission to speak. The Queen let him suffer for a while longer before granting him his wish with the languid gesture of her hand.
“My lady, there is word of a new warrior,” he said.
“No one is a match for the Wolf Baron,” said the Queen, stroking a white peacock on a perch beside her. A thin silver chain was wrapped around the bird’s leg keeping it her docile captive. Reaching over to a table beside her, the Queen lifted a glistening silver goblet and a servant instantly filled it with water.
“This is a curious case, I thought it would be of interest to you.”
“How so?”
“You see, it is a woman!”
The Queen smirked, “let her come, it is no matter.” She brought the goblet to her lips.
“And,” continued the messenger, “she only has one arm.”
The Queen choked. She looked at the scout in alarm, her eyes wide. She set down the goblet unevenly, wiping the water from her lips with the back of her hand.
“Yes, it will be quite a sight! Can you imagine?” The messenger was delighted with the impression he had made. “I have already arranged for an invitation letter to be sent to her.”
“You have?” asked the Queen, rising from her throne.
“Why yes—” broke off the man, alarmed at the Queen’s dangerous tone.
“Good,” said the Queen, regaining composure. “How old is she?” she asked unexpectedly.
“Sixteen, my lady,” said the man.
The Queen dismissed him with a flick of her wrist and walked over to the window where she stood for a long time, watching the first snow slowly coming down upon the cold world beyond.
Chapter 38
Twisted and Changed
For three days Amelliea spent most of her time with Galvan, dancing, to live music, dining with him, and walking through the palace grounds enjoying the first snow. Intertwined in all of Amelliea’s meetings with the Prince was the ever-looming presence of Gabriellen. The rival girl would frequently accompany Galvan wherever he went, wearing her hair down and looking beautiful in her dark-colored gowns. She and Amelliea could not be more at odds, and their interactions were cold and hostile. Though time was running out, it seemed the Prince could not make up his mind as to which girl he wished to be with. Amelliea could not believe that Galvan would consider choosing Gabriellen even after he had said she was not a contestant for his heart. Though her own crush on Galvan was stronger than ever, at times Amelliea felt relief at the thought that she would soon be leaving and would no longer live in such stress inducing suspension. She spent her time away from Galvan speaking with her friends and saying goodbye to the Gators she knew she would miss after she left the region. With the holiday season quickly approaching, the palace was heavily decorated with winter flowers, and the air was filled with the sent of sweet spices.
On the evening of the winter equinox, Amelliea checked her letterbox only to find a sizable gift bag inside it. She loosened the drawstring of the silk bag and pulled out a set of new Gator robes. The long-sleeved black tunic and matching bottoms had been custom sewn in her exact size. Along with the new garb Amelliea found a burgundy band for her forearm that marked her rank as the second highest among al
l gator fighters. At the bottom of the bag was a scroll documenting the completion of her training that was signed by her trainer. Overjoyed, Amelliea read over the golden calligraphy on the scroll several times. Her dream had come true! She had learned how to fight like a Gator! Filled with excitement she hurried to tell Galvan the news, for she knew he would understand and celebrate this victory as no one else. She was eager to see what armband the Prince had received, and to find out if Galvan would continue his training.
The palace was nearly vacant and Amelliea met no one as she rushed down the hallway and up the spiraling stairs to Galvan’s bedroom. She was surprised to find the double doors that the Prince normally kept open mostly closed. Out of breath with excitement Amelliea lifted her hand to knock when she heard Galvan on the other side engaged in a heated discussion with what sounded like his father, the King. Deciding her news would have to wait she turned to leave, but paused upon hearing the mentioning of her own name.
“Amelliea is not ready yet,” said the Prince in a hushed voice.
“You risk too much, you are about to lose her!” hissed the King.
Amelliea leaned closer to the door. It was ever so slightly ajar, and the sound traveled through the opening, whispering its way into the hallway with the help of a light draft.
“Father, I know what I am doing!” said Galvan defensively.
“You must be careful not to push her away!”
“I have her right where I want her,” assured the Prince.
“Galvan, don’t you see? The other woman is too big of a threat! You will estrange Amelliea and she will refuse your proposal!” The King’s voice was agitated.
“Trust me father, jealousy is the surest motivator there is. Every day the girl grows more desperate for my attention,” argued Galvan.
“She is not the type to compete for affection,” spat the King of thieves.
“On the contrary, she is rebellious and firmly determined to pursue what she wants. Her throne is as good as ours.”
“She is nothing like your other girls!” warned the King. “Amelliea may be more aware of your tricks than you suspect.”
“Amelliea is blinded by idealism and drunk off of my flattery,” insisted the Prince. “She will not only say yes, but she will feel she has won me!”
“She suspects your relationship with Gabriellen is more intimate than you let on. If you are not careful you will lose them both. What are you waiting for?” demanded the King. “Wendell will return any day now, and when he does, he will forbid Amelliea’s relations with you.”
“She will fight to be with me, she is stubborn and persistent!”
“I order you to do it tonight, not as your father, but as your King!”
“It’s a delicate matter, I do not whish to be rushed!”
“Be careful my son, there is much at stake,” said the King. “I overheard through the third mirror yesterday evening that Wendell returns with many chests full of gold!”
“Has he found the scroll?”
“He has abandoned his search for it upon discovering the tracks of a werewolf.”
“He is a fool for all his age,” lamented Galvan.
“Never mind his imprudence, it is his wallet we must obtain.”
Amelliea clasped her fingers over her mouth. She struggled to collect herself enough to creep back to the stairs. Afraid to breathe, Amelliea quietly hurried down the stone steps. As she entered the hallway, she heard a group of students coming around the bend. She could distinctly make out Gabriellen’s voice in the bunch. The girl complained loudly about having to train with a classroom full of boys who did not see her as the true warrior she was. Afraid to be seen, Amelliea quickly ducked behind a sculpture set into an indentation in the wall. Galvan must never suspect that she had learned the truth and Gabriellen would undoubtedly mention having seen her. Amelliea thought of Galvan. He had betrayed her! What a fool she had been! As the students passed by her, Amelliea feared they would hear the terrible beating of her heart. She fought hard to resist looking up at them so they would not sense her eyes and accidently glance her way, for being discovered hiding would require complex explanations! When she was sure they had passed, Amelliea hurried from her hiding place and bounded down the hall to her chamber. She rushed inside and bolted the door behind her. Sobs rising in her chest, Amelliea blindly ran to her bedroom and wept bitterly, falling face-first onto her bed. Her hot tears soaked into her pillow as she trembled with the shock of all she had learned. Her feelings for Galvan were forever twisted and changed by the ugly truth of his plots against her. Amelliea tried to make sense of what she had heard. “Her throne is as good as ours,” Galvan had said. “Whose throne?” whispered Amelliea, trying to piece things together. “She suspects your relationship with Gabriellen is more intimate than you let on,” the King had warned his son. So it was true, Gabriellen and Prince were intertwined in a rapidly developing relationship. How long had this been going on and why had Galvan kept this from her? What did he want with Amelliea if she was of no interest to him? A fresh wave of emotions swept over her and she buried her face into the blanket to muffle the sounds of her crying. Never in her life had she felt so hurt. Had all the things Galvan said been nothing but lies?
They had called her father Wendell, the name he had held as a younger man. That meant beyond a shadow of a doubt that the King of Thieves and his son understood that Bloom was a wizard! Amelliea wondered if they knew of his curse and the crolackrolite stones. Did their plans involve killing Bloom and stealing his powers? How much did they really know? Her thoughts suddenly shifted their focus to the mirror and she lifted her head to look upon it. As lovely as ever, the reflective oval stood innocently on her dresser, glinting in the evening light. She knew now that it was nothing more than a spying device, for there was a third mirror that the King had used to overhear her every conversation! Now she knew the reason Galvan had turned the mirror away the other night. Amelliea shuttered. Perhaps she was being watched even now. The one thing she was certain of was that the spying had to end. She would destroy the mirror! Bloom would be unable to reach her, and this would be a silent, yet powerful message for him to rush back to her. Amelliea wiped her tears and rose from the bed, and just as she did so the trap door opened and Prince Galvan stepped into her room.
Amelliea jumped back, frightened by the intrusion, but she cleverly used the moment to intentionally stumble against the dresser. Her hand brushed against the mirror, knocking it off the edge. An instant later, the mirror shattered into a hundred pieces against the marble floor.
“Oh no!” cried Amelliea, relieved that it had looked very much like a genuine accident. “What have I done? The mirror is ruined! How will I speak with my father now?”
“It was my fault,” said Galvan. “I should not have entered so boldly.
“I’m so sorry! I don’t know how it happened. I really didn’t mean to—” Amelliea apologized repeatedly, allowing the feelings tearing her apart inside to show a little. The girl understood that if she failed to put on a convincing act, she might quickly find herself in danger. She needed to buy herself some time. Several days would suffice, for by then Bloom would return and they would manage to escape together. “I feel terrible,” Amelliea cried, real tears forming in her brown eyes. Looking at the Prince she felt utterly betrayed by him and she let herself cry from the crushing pain of this reality, allowing the stupid mirror to take all the blame.
“Its alright,” consoled the Prince, using the moment to instigate intimacy. He put his arms around her and held her close. “Your father will be back before you know it.” His voice was tender. Amelliea observed with surprise that the closeness still gave her a rush, and that even now, knowing Galvan was manipulating her she was still not immune to his charm.
“I will try to fix it,” she promised.
“Do not worry about the mirror,” he said, tempting her with a kiss. “You may break a million more if you wish.”
“They say it is bad luck,”
whispered Amelliea.
“Superstitious nonsense,” smiled Galvan.
Amelliea felt her heart flutter, and tried not to stare at his perfect lips for too long. She remembered suddenly of his involvement with the other girl and turned away. This was a mistake.
“What is it?” he asked, sensing a change.
Amelliea’s mind raced to invent a reason, every second of calculating silence betraying her intention to lie. “It’s nothing significant,” she said vaguely, unable to deceive him even now. She pulled away and sat down on the cushioned stool before the golden harp. Galvan came to stand beside her. Amelliea’s fingers plucked the cords of her favorite song. She felt her emotions saturating the music as never before. The enchanting tune emanating from the strings of the harp ebbed and flowed, and as the melody developed the girl began to softly sing.
“Oh yonder doth the sparrow fly,
Tis brown of wing and black of eye.
On wings as silent as the night,
It’s beating heart demanding height.
The height of mountains in the mist,
Up to the sky she longed to kiss.
Through swell of wind and rise of sun,
She soared until each day was done.
She sang of love unto the sky,
Until the day that she did die.
And though the sparrow never knew,
The sky itself did love her true.”
The song ended, but Amelliea played the cords on the harp for yet another round, looking at the Prince in a blunt, meaningful kind of way. Her mix of feelings was impossible to dissect, and she did not try to figure them out. He caught her hand on the strings, abruptly ending the music in an off-key interrupted cord, and pulled Amelliea to standing. Without warning he kissed her, and she helplessly kissed him back, wanting his love even though her illusions were shattered.
“Come with me,” he whispered, cutting short the kiss. “There is something I want to show you.” He took her hand and led her through the trap door up the spiraling stairway. Amelliea followed him, perplexed by the utter insanity of the evening. Up and up they went until they reached the top of the tower. Here, the narrow stairwell opened up into a circular greenhouse built atop a stone platform. The walls were made entirely of glass, and the damp air was sweetened with the sent of flowers. A fountain gurgled in the center of the glass dome, and lit candles in the shape of lotus flowers floated in the water, their flames wavering as they drifted slowly in a circle. The walls were lined with ceramic vessels that all contained the same trailing plant. The climbing vines bloomed profusely with identical red flowers and hung down like living curtains. Galvan led Amelliea to a stone bench beside the fountain. Amelliea seated herself beside the Prince, feeling the cold of the stone even through her clothes.
The Curse (The Windore Series Book 2) Page 24