Legacy of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  Sarai’s head was reeling. She gripped a nearby chair back for support, unable to grasp the magnitude of the catastrophe that had befallen her, that had befallen her family, her kingdom.

  “Sarai,” said Germain, again taking a step toward her.

  She looked up at him numbly, and was startled to see tears standing in his eyes. She never would have imagined her serious, impenetrable husband capable of crying. She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. She was a princess of Kyona, and it was for that reason Germain had married her. She had her pride, and she would—she must—show him that she was as strong as a princess was expected to be. Even if it was a facade.

  “I wish to be alone, please,” she said, her voice coming out surprisingly even.

  “Sarai, are…are you sure?” He sounded distressed, but she didn’t dare to meet his eyes. The storm was coming, she could feel it moments away, and this grief was much too intimate to allow anyone to witness it.

  “I am sure,” she said, still not looking at him.

  Germain hesitated for a long moment, but when she remained unmoving, he let go of her hands and stepped back. “I will of course respect your wishes,” he said, with a formal bow. His voice softened. “But should you wish for company, for anything at all, I will be here.”

  She nodded tightly, averting her face as he walked from the room, shutting the door carefully behind him. She made herself count to one hundred before she moved, giving him time to pass out of hearing range. Then she collapsed onto the floor, her face pressed into the cold unfeeling stone as she sobbed long and hysterically, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

  She was utterly alone.

  “Sarai?”

  “Oh, Germain, were you speaking to me?” Sarai turned to her husband, distracted.

  Had she just been remembering that terrible day in the tower room? Why was she thinking of that now? It had been months. She felt confused, and it took her a moment to identify her current surroundings. She was in the castle courtyard, her hand on her mare, ready to mount and commence her ride.

  She stroked the beautiful bay’s mane as she looked up at Germain. She was more glad than ever that she had been allowed to bring her own horse with her from Kyona when they married. The beast would be her only friend from home ever to join her in Bryford.

  “I was just asking…” Germain hesitated. “Are you sure you wish to go so soon after returning from your last trip? This Dragoncave place sounds far away. It will take you days to get there.”

  “I’m sure,” she said firmly. She paused, casting her eyes down. “You are good to release me. I know some do not approve of my search, and I don’t wish to cause you—”

  “It’s not that,” Germain interrupted. He hesitated again, then reached out a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ears. Sarai stilled in surprise at the unexpected touch. “It’s just that I will miss you,” he said. “And your grief is still so fresh, Sarai. I cannot help but wonder if it’s wise for you to be alone so much.”

  “I won’t be alone,” she said hastily, hoping he wouldn’t notice she hadn’t said she would miss him too. For a moment she wondered if he really would miss her, but she couldn’t imagine why he would. They spent little enough time together even when she was in Bryford. “There’s a whole delegation with me.”

  “I know, but—” Germain looked uncharacteristically conscious. “I don’t mean literally alone. I suppose I mean…not with me.”

  “Oh.” Sarai couldn’t think of any further response.

  “I could…” Germain looked down, then back up at her face. “I could come with you, if you would like it.”

  “But what of your duties?” asked Sarai, surprised. “Aren’t you expected with the Thoranian ambassador this afternoon, and the delegate from the eastern district tomorrow?”

  It was Germain’s turn to look surprised. “You know my schedule better than I do, it seems,” he said with a touch of humor.

  “Of course.” Sarai spoke with dignity. “I am your wife, and it’s my responsibility to ensure nothing hinders you in your royal functions. I have calculated the time I will be absent. It will be no more than a week, and I don’t believe I will be needed in any of your duties during that time.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about,” said Germain softly. “I’m concerned for you.”

  “You are kind,” said Sarai colorlessly, “and you have made your wishes clear as to my safety. You have my word I will not attempt to cross into Kyona. Surely you don’t doubt it.”

  “Of course I don’t,” said Germain quickly. “I just meant—”

  “Then you know I will be safe, Germain,” Sarai interrupted. “I’m grateful for the offer, but there’s no need for you to abandon your responsibilities in order to accompany me.”

  He frowned. “You are my responsibility.”

  “I know,” said Sarai, looking up. “And after this trip, I will try not to be such a burdensome one.”

  He was still frowning, and for a moment he didn’t speak. “Five days,” he said at last, his voice curt. “I want you to return within five days.”

  “Very well,” she agreed, turning to mount her horse at last. She looked down at him, her expression softening for a moment. “And thank you.”

  Jocelyn woke with a start, her mind racing frantically rather than groggy with sleep as it should have been. For a moment her eyes darted around erratically, trying to reclaim awareness. She felt confused, overwhelmed by emotions that were not her own, and yet were far too familiar for comfort. She half expected to see Germain standing nearby, and she spoke firmly to her overstimulated mind, reminding herself that she wasn’t Sarai, she was Jocelyn.

  Jocelyn, Jocelyn, Jocelyn.

  All of a sudden she became aware of her own body, and it was all she could do not to scramble to her feet. She remembered now—she had fallen asleep irresponsibly, scandalously close to Kincaid, her arm pressed against his side, reassured by his presence and his confident certainty that they were safe.

  That had been most improper.

  But it was nothing to how she found herself now. Kincaid was right where he had been, but she had obviously shifted in her sleep, turning onto her side. Her head was cushioned on his shoulder, and she was—she winced as she thought it, but there was really no other word for it—snuggled up against him.

  She sat up quickly, fervently grateful that he was still fast asleep, and not able to witness her humiliatingly loose behavior. Just as she had known but tried to deny the night before, she now had to look him in the face in the light of day.

  The light of day!

  “Kincaid!” she cried, forgetting her embarrassment in the sudden surge of excitement. “Look!”

  “What? What is it?”

  Kincaid passed from deep slumber to alert wakefulness in an impressively short space of time. Jocelyn had already leaped to her feet, and he followed her, his sword drawn in the same fluid motion that had propelled him from the cavern floor.

  “It’s light!” she said gleefully, gesturing around. “We can see!”

  “So we can,” he said, a smile growing on his face. He looked up at the cavern ceiling. “That’s incredible.”

  Following his gaze, Jocelyn had to agree. She had thought that at best the morning might bring a dim glow from the direction of the fissure through which they had entered. Instead, sunlight slanted in from the roof of the cave, high above them, not in one or two places, but in dozens. It seemed there were lots of long narrow slits occurring in the cavern roof, angled almost horizontally, and the whole space was illuminated with the soft light of morning.

  It looked huge and intriguing, but no longer sinister. Stalactites and stalagmites sprouted everywhere, and Jocelyn could even see one or two pretty looking pools gathered in spots where the moisture dripped down from the ceiling above.

  “Those fissures are all facing east,” said Kincaid after a moment. “They would hardly let any light in during the afternoon or ev
ening.” He grinned at her. “Good thing we didn’t oversleep.”

  “You were right,” said Jocelyn, looking around in amazement. “We should definitely have waited until morning to explore.”

  “No.” She glanced at Kincaid in surprise as he spoke the word, but looked away again quickly at the intensity in his gaze. “I’m glad we didn’t.”

  He rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly.

  “What is it?” Jocelyn asked quickly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” said Kincaid, sounding surprised at her tone. “Just a bit stiff is all.” He rubbed one shoulder in particular, as if it was sore. From his look of confusion, Jocelyn could tell he was trying to figure out why that one spot was so much more uncomfortable than everywhere else. She turned away, her cheeks flaming.

  “So.” The intensity was gone, Kincaid’s voice now bright and natural. “Since it’s so light, do you want to explore more after all?”

  “Definitely not,” said Jocelyn quickly. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He grinned. “Worried about snakes?”

  “Yes, definitely,” she said with a shudder. “Always.” She looked around. The air still tingled with power, and the cave retained a measure of eeriness even in the daylight. “But it’s not just that. I slept…restlessly.”

  “You did?” Kincaid sounded surprised. “I slept surprisingly solidly. I didn’t hear or feel you stir.”

  Jocelyn’s cheeks had cooled, but she felt heat rising back up them at this casual reference to their sleeping arrangement. “I don’t mean that I woke up,” she said hastily. “I had…strange dreams.”

  “Strange how?” Kincaid looked wary, and Jocelyn felt her curiosity flare as she wondered what was in his mind. But she didn’t ask.

  “Princess Sarai’s stories, or memories, or whatever they are,” she said instead. “I dreamed about them. It was like I was reviewing her memories, but all in a jumble, one rushing into the other. I saw her wedding day, then the day she found out about what happened to her family.”

  She paused, a shiver passing through her as she remembered the agony that had ripped Sarai apart as she wept all alone on the floor of the tower room. For a moment Jocelyn was distracted, thinking how she would feel if her own family were murdered. She shook the thought off resolutely.

  “Then I saw her saying goodbye to her husband to come here, to look for Dragoncave. There was no more. I guess at the time she was here, when she left her stories behind, there was nothing further to add.”

  “It’s a strange phenomenon,” said Kincaid, frowning at Jocelyn. “I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it.”

  “Neither am I,” said Jocelyn with feeling. She saw Kincaid’s frown of concern, and continued pleadingly, “But I can’t help it. I’m not trying to be weird and magical.”

  “Of course you’re not,” said Kincaid with a laugh. He examined her face, and a crease appeared between his eyebrows. “I didn’t mean I’m unnerved by you, Joss. It just strikes me that you have enough grief, and loneliness, and…well…confusion in your life already. I don’t like the idea of you being forced to experience someone else’s as well.”

  Jocelyn glanced at his expression and turned away quickly. It wasn’t the first time Kincaid had shown concern for her. But after their strange and intimate interactions the night before, there was a new warmth in his eyes as they rested on her face, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

  Scratch that. She knew exactly how she felt about it, but she wasn’t at all sure what to do with the information. As she had promised herself the night before, with the advent of morning, she had remembered in full force who she was and why she had come to Valoria in the first place.

  She gave a tight smile. “I can handle it.”

  “I’m sure you can.”

  As they readied themselves to leave, Jocelyn glanced back toward the wall of dragon runes. They looked even more impressive in the daylight, stretching further up the wall than she’d realized. She hoped they had copied all of them on Kincaid’s parchment. Her eyes were attracted by something on the cavern floor, and she smiled. The broken jar, still lying in a patch of slick oil, looked so innocent and unimportant now. It was strange to think what a panic it had thrown her into the night before.

  Still, despite the extra light, Jocelyn felt immensely relieved when they located the opening without difficulty.

  “This time, I insist,” she said, scrambling up the slope ahead of Kincaid. “Ladies first. You’re not leaving me alone in here with the snakes and the magical memories.”

  Kincaid didn’t argue, his soft chuckle wafting through the air behind her. But he kept pace with her, and stopped her before she could begin crawling through the hole.

  “Jocelyn.” He hesitated, and Jocelyn tilted her head inquiringly.

  “What is it?”

  Kincaid was looking at the fissure, but not as if he really saw it. “Before we leave the cave, I just…I just wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me for what?” asked Jocelyn, bewildered.

  “For trusting me.” Kincaid still wasn’t looking her in the eye, and at first Jocelyn thought he was talking about the way they had arranged themselves for sleep. Before she could get too self-conscious, however, he looked up at last, and his steady gaze captured her.

  “When it was dark, you were afraid,” he said, and she made no attempt to disagree. “I told you we would be safe, and you trusted me. It felt—” He looked down again. “I was glad I could help you in that way.”

  Jocelyn blinked. It was a strange thing to thank her for, but she thought she understood. She felt it too. Things would be different once they exited this unnaturally isolated place, and Kincaid evidently wanted to acknowledge the shift that had happened in their relationship. But she couldn’t afford to acknowledge it. Not now the inhibition-destroying darkness had fled, and all the consequences were once again staring her in the face.

  “You don’t need to thank me for anything, Kincaid,” she said lightly, and she didn’t miss the shadow of disappointment that crossed his face. “If you want to say something of that nature, you could say sorry for dropping the oil in the first place.”

  She had spoken jestingly, but Kincaid didn’t match her tone.

  “I could,” he agreed quietly. “But it wouldn’t be very honest, because I’m not sorry it happened.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jocelyn’s chest tightened at the look Kincaid was giving her. Unable to think of a reply, she turned quickly to the fissure and dropped onto her knees. Kincaid’s words seemed to chase her through the narrow space, and it was with relief that she greeted the burst of fresh air that met her as soon as her head emerged into the daylight.

  She wriggled all the way out and leaped to her feet. She spun in a slow circle, her heart lifting at the sight of the open country, the river with the mountain range behind it, even the unwelcoming town of Thalia not far away.

  A soft breeze tugged at her braid, the strands starting to come adrift after her various adventures. She pulled her hair fully free, combing her fingers through it, and laughed with delight at the feeling of freedom.

  “Greetings, Jocelyn.” Elddreki’s voice sounded indulgent, and Jocelyn looked up to see him still on top of the mound, watching her twirl. She wondered if he’d been there all night. “You seem happy this morning.”

  “Greetings, Elddreki. I’m very happy to make it out of that cave in one piece,” agreed Jocelyn with a grin.

  “Was there something dangerous in there after all, then?” asked Elddreki, descending the slope in an unhurried way.

  “Nothing more dangerous than my clumsiness.” Kincaid’s voice made Jocelyn turn—she hadn’t realized he was so close behind her. His head had emerged from the fissure, but the rest of him was still inside.

  She reflected to herself that his appeal was much more dangerous than his clumsiness, but she pushed the thought away, refusing to brood in the sparkling light of this glorious summer morning.


  She stepped away from Elddreki, who was now on the ground beside her, and tripped back over to the Valorian, laughing at how absurd he looked. He was trying to wriggle free, but due to his size it wasn’t as easy for him as it had been for her.

  “Let me help,” she offered, holding out her hands. He eyed them dubiously, and she grinned. “Trying to decide between whether to have the assistance or whether to have your dignity?” she guessed.

  “Something like that.” His voice was rueful.

  “Well, your dignity is not very intact either way,” she assured him with a laugh. “So you may as well let me tug you through.” She seized his hands and did so, with more enthusiasm than skill. When he fully emerged and stood up, he was so covered in dirt that she had to step back, coughing, as he brushed himself off.

  He gave her a pointed look when she continued to snicker. “Mock me all you like, but have you looked at your own clothes lately, Your Highness?”

  She glanced quickly down at herself and grimaced at the state of her costly dress. It was ruined beyond repair, no doubt about it. So much dirt clung to it that it was hard to tell what its original color had been, and the fabric had been ripped in numerous places by her shuffle into and around the cave.

  “Ready to thank me for buying you new clothes after all?” asked Kincaid, much too smug.

  “Never,” said Jocelyn impudently, even as she held out a hand. Kincaid grinned as he fished around in his pack before producing the simple garment he had purchased in Thalia the day before.

  Jocelyn walked all the way around Dragoncave before changing, positioning herself on the very opposite side of the mound from her companions. She stripped off the old dress quickly, looking longingly at the sparkling water of the Great River as she did so. It would be glorious to bathe, even in cold river water, but she wasn’t going to risk being interrupted in the process. Plus, the water was flowing very quickly here, and she wasn’t sure it would be safe.