Legacy of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  But the chaos never came. They were very close now, and they could hear the startled gasps and the cries of astonishment rising up on all sides. Everywhere Jocelyn looked, she saw faces full of shock, and quite a few showing terror as well. But no one was running, no one was hiding. People certainly drew nervously away from the creature, but when Elddreki halted a stone’s throw from the market and sat back on his haunches, clearly intending to watch from there, people started to move again. Jocelyn had the distinct impression that there was no longer much trading happening, excited conversation and furtive glances having taken its place.

  Kincaid had clearly noticed the restrained reaction as well, because he was looking about them with his eyebrows raised.

  “We really are in the east,” he muttered to himself as they dismounted, tying their horses to a wooden bar set up for the purpose, right next to a watering trough.

  For a little while they just wandered through the market, enjoying the break from the saddle. It was nice, Jocelyn reflected, stealing a glance up at Kincaid walking beside her. It was pleasant to be natural and unassuming, no fanfare and no titles. Just strolling along with this man she had somehow come to trust as implicitly as she trusted her own family, looking to any onlookers like a normal young couple here to explore the market.

  Kincaid seemed to feel her gaze, and he looked down at her suddenly, smiling in a friendly way.

  “It feels a bit different from the North Wilds, doesn’t it?”

  Jocelyn laughed. “Just a bit.” It was an understatement. She felt no fear in this marketplace. The difference in tone from the towns in the North Wilds could not have been greater.

  “A beautiful young woman like you could probably even wander around without having her hair stolen right off her head.”

  Kincaid spoke jokingly, but Jocelyn felt her cheeks flushing, and she looked down at the ground, trying to hide her pleasure.

  “Why do you get that look whenever I say you’re beautiful?” Kincaid asked. Jocelyn felt her color deepen, but there was no self-consciousness in Kincaid’s voice. “You look surprised, but surely you can’t be. You must know you’re beautiful. I mean,” he glanced around and lowered his voice, “you’re a princess. It’s not likely you’d go unnoticed. Surely people say you’re beautiful all the time.”

  Jocelyn laughed awkwardly but didn’t answer, embarrassed at being asked to admit such a thing.

  “Well?” Kincaid pressed, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t they?”

  She rubbed self-consciously at the back of her neck. “Yes,” she acknowledged at last. “People do say I’m beautiful. But…”

  “But what?” Kincaid persisted when she trailed off.

  Jocelyn laughed again at the ridiculous conversation. “But ‘but’,” she said. “It’s not, ‘the princess is beautiful’. It’s, ‘the princess is beautiful, but’. But she’s sullen, but she’s always sulking, but she has nothing to say for herself, but there’s nothing in that pretty head.”

  Kincaid had stopped walking, his eyes narrowed, and Jocelyn came to a halt as well, looking at him questioningly.

  “The Kyonan court sounds like it collectively needs a good hard slap,” he said shortly. He glared at her for a moment, and she stared back, unsure how to respond to his irritation.

  Then all of a sudden his expression softened, and he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Jocelyn’s heart seemed to sputter, then it picked up at double speed when he reached up and placed his thumb gently on her cheek, his hand curling around the back of her head.

  “Let me correct the mistake,” he said, his voice much too intense for the public setting. “You are not beautiful but—you’re beautiful and. Beautiful and intelligent, beautiful and kind, beautiful and selfless, beautiful and witty.”

  Jocelyn swallowed, unable to find a single word. No one had ever looked at her the way Kincaid was looking at her now. She had not thought it possible that anyone would look at her that way if they knew her secret. But Kincaid knew, and it had never even bothered him.

  “A gift for your pretty sweetheart?”

  The merchant’s wheedling voice cut in on their moment, reminding Jocelyn of their surroundings. She stepped back quickly, giving a nervous chuckle. Kincaid dropped his hand, looking with disfavor at the man, and the vibrant green scarf he was holding out winningly.

  “That’s all wrong for her,” he said irritably. “It’s much too strong a color.” He turned to see Jocelyn raising an amused eyebrow at him. “What?”

  She chuckled, shaking her head as she turned away. “I must meet this sister of yours.”

  “I would like you to.”

  Kincaid spoke lightly enough, but Jocelyn resolutely avoided looking at him as they struck back off into the markets. It was straying into dangerous waters to talk about the future with Kincaid. It was well and truly time to turn the conversation to less personal matters.

  “I see your dress is torn, miss. Can I interest you in a lovely new gown?”

  Jocelyn turned to look at the speaker, taking in the deep blue dress he was fanning out suggestively.

  “No thank you,” she said politely. To her relief, her power was barely a trickle.

  “It’s an unusual design, isn’t it?” interjected Kincaid doubtfully. Jocelyn wondered if he was being diplomatic or was just out of his depth. In her opinion, the dress was hideously ugly.

  “It may not be common in Bryford,” said the merchant quickly, “but this fashion is very popular in Kyona. It’s what all the girls wear in Kynton.”

  Kincaid shot a humorous look at Jocelyn.

  “I’m from Kynton,” she said, amused. “And that isn’t.”

  “You’re Kyonan?” the man asked, looking at her carefully.

  “That’s right. What of it?” Kincaid frowned as he spoke, obviously not impressed with the man’s tone. But the merchant ignored him, his eyes still trained on Jocelyn.

  “Are you a real Kyonan, or one of these freedmen?” He said the last word with a slight sneer, and Jocelyn’s mouth fell open.

  “I beg your pardon?” Her tone was dangerous, and she felt her power swirl inside her.

  “I think you heard me,” the man said coldly.

  Kincaid took a half step forward, but Jocelyn stopped him with a hand, her eyes narrowed as they rested on the merchant.

  “I don’t know how to answer your question, sir,” it was her turn to sneer, “because I don’t know the difference between those two types of Kyonans.”

  She felt the power thrumming in her words, and the man’s forehead creased slightly in confusion. She didn’t wait for more, pushing back into the crowd. She could feel Kincaid close behind her, but she didn’t look at him. She was breathing hard, her mind ablaze with indignation. So the prejudice really had spread to Valoria. She knew it had been irresponsible to use her power, but she found herself hoping savagely that the man spent the rest of the afternoon confused and disoriented.

  When Kincaid caught up with her he looked like he wanted to speak, but she indicated with a shrug of her shoulder that she didn’t wish to discuss the incident. She had been enjoying the cheerful atmosphere of the market, and she didn’t want to taint the day with depressing talk. Obliging as always, Kincaid refrained from bringing it up.

  Jocelyn had wondered hopefully if Elddreki’s presence would make the locals inclined to give them a good deal, but it seemed that a merchant was a merchant, no matter what mythical impossibilities might be occurring. Any sensible trader would be able to tell they were travelers coming from some distance, and in sore need of the goods they were bargaining for.

  It quickly became evident they wouldn’t get as much food as Kincaid had hoped for the items they had to barter, and traveling cloaks were no longer a realistic option. Jocelyn frowned. This was absurd. Kincaid was too stubborn for his own good. They needed food, that much wasn’t optional. And traveling cloaks would make the journey so much more comfortable. Kincaid had more or less said it himself—she wasn�
��t just a pretty face, to be pandered to.

  She became impatient with standing around waiting while Kincaid argued with a shrewd-faced man about the worth of the water skin. She wandered away, looking appraisingly at the various goods for sale.

  “Kincaid,” she said, wandering back over to him. “I think I saw some traveling cloaks further down. I’m going to go have a look.”

  “All right,” he said vaguely, his attention still on his debate with the merchant. He was still distracted when she returned, and he failed to notice the bundle in her arms or the flush of triumph on her face.

  “Come on,” he grumbled, shooting a disgruntled look at the merchant. “That’s as much as we’ll get, so we may as well be on our way.”

  “Fine with me,” Jocelyn agreed amicably. She shoved her burden into the saddlebags strapped onto her mare, giving Kincaid a bright smile as he held out his hands, ready to help throw her into the saddle.

  “You’re in a good mood,” he observed, eyebrows raised.

  She shrugged, a smile still tugging at her lips. “It’s a beautiful day.”

  They rode for a few more hours, Elddreki finally giving up on examining Jocelyn and resuming his position in the sky. Kincaid’s mood lifted as they rode away from the uncooperative marketplace, and he taught her a Valorian folk song, about a goatherd who dreamed of being king.

  “Should we look for a place to stop?” Jocelyn asked, as the first streaks of orange began to appear in the sky. She didn’t want to admit how weary she was, but she was surprised they were still riding. Kincaid usually suggested making camp much earlier, and the horses were clearly weary as well, after climbing the steadily ascending ground all day.

  “Let’s go just a bit further,” her companion said. “I think we’re almost there.”

  “Almost whe—oh!”

  They had reached the crest of a small slope, and Jocelyn’s eyes widened at the sight before her. The water was dark, almost black in the failing light, but it still sparkled invitingly, looking impossibly still and peaceful.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s called Loch Arine,” said Kincaid eagerly. “It’s just like people describe it. I’ve never been here before, but I’ve always wanted to see it.”

  “Is it a lake?”

  “Not exactly,” he explained. “It looks like a lake, but it’s actually an inlet. It’s connected to the sea by an underground chasm.” He pointed to the other side of the body of water, and Jocelyn saw a small town perched on the far bank. “The chasm runs under that town, there. Arinton.” He grinned at Jocelyn. “Arinton is the heart of the eastern district. This is where you’ll find your wyvern-believers.”

  “It’s beautiful,” said Jocelyn. As they descended the small slope and their vantage point changed, the water began to reflect the colorful streaks appearing in the sky.

  “It is,” Kincaid agreed cheerfully. “And even better, it means we’re almost at the coast.”

  Jocelyn raised her eyebrows at him. “Since when are you in such a rush to get there? I thought you weren’t expecting to find any truth to the wyvern legends.”

  “It’s not that I’m in a rush to get there.” Kincaid was silent for a moment, not quite meeting her eye. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about what you said. About me being irresponsible.”

  “Kincaid—”

  “No, don’t apologize,” he interrupted quickly. “There was truth in it. I didn’t give enough thought to my family, or my responsibility to them, when I left Bryford. I’ve already been away too long.”

  Jocelyn lowered her gaze, wishing she wasn’t suddenly finding it so hard to breathe at the thought of Kincaid leaving. But of course he had a home, a family, a life back in Bryford, completely unconnected to their surreal and unsustainable wanderings across the countryside. The thought made her feel unutterably lonely.

  “I’m not about to abandon you,” he hastened to add, perhaps picking up on her mood. “I want to see the quest through. But I guess I’m thinking it’s a good thing to be finally getting somewhere.”

  She nodded curtly, not trusting her voice. It was awful to think it had been her, in a moment of selfish anger, who had planted the seed in Kincaid’s mind that would make him realize he should walk away.

  “It’s quite amazing, really,” Kincaid was musing, his eyes unfocused, “how deeply your words took root. Even knowing the impact came from your power, I can’t shake the thought.”

  Jocelyn shrugged miserably. “Change is like that, I think. It’s powerful, and its ripples are not always predictable. You can’t just undo it. I told you how powerful—and how dangerous—my words can be. But I don’t think you ever really believed me.”

  Kincaid looked over at her, his expression surprised. “I don’t mean it as a bad thing, Jocelyn. Was it a bad thing if you changed that merchant’s mind about his prejudice against the freedmen? What you said about me was the same. It wasn’t exactly comfortable to have you point it out, but it was something I needed to hear. It was a change that needed to happen inside me. I’m not sorry it did.”

  Jocelyn stared at him in amazement.

  “What?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I wish I could embrace change as well as you do.”

  “You can,” said Kincaid encouragingly. “You just need some practice.” He gestured around. “For example, living in Valoria wouldn’t be such a bad change, would it? I know you love Kyona, but that doesn’t mean you can’t like it here, too.”

  Jocelyn grinned. “If you’re trying to trick me into saying—what was it?—‘Valoria is a wonderful kingdom’, you’ll have to try a bit harder than that.”

  Kincaid chuckled. “I’ll convince you yet.”

  “We’ll see.”

  They made camp alongside the water, Elddreki landing softly beside them.

  “I’m sorry the fare isn’t better,” said Kincaid regretfully, laying out some less-than-appetizing food. He grimaced. “And it’s going to be cold tonight without cloaks.”

  “Well, perhaps I can help with that,” said Jocelyn brightly, pulling the bundle from her saddlebags with a mischievous grin. She unrolled it onto the grass next to Kincaid, revealing a substantial array of food, a water skin to replace the one Kincaid had bartered, and two hardy cloaks.

  “How did you—?” Kincaid’s startled exclamation quickly gave way to a growl. He reached out with lightning speed to grip her arm, yanking the sleeve up to reveal her unadorned wrist. “Jocelyn, you didn’t!” he cried, sounding genuinely distressed. “Why?”

  “Because we needed the supplies,” she said sternly. “And because you were being ridiculous.” She considered the point. “And,” she added, “because I wanted to win a round for once.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Kincaid scolded. “It was totally unnecessary.”

  “No,” Jocelyn corrected. “It was totally unnecessary for you to pay for everything.”

  “Jocelyn…” Kincaid hesitated, then grimaced. “I didn’t want to say it, because it’s not very becoming of me to boast about it, but my family is quite wealthy. It’s really no problem for me to supply us with a bit of food.”

  Jocelyn gave him a look. “Yes, I’d figured that much out, thank you Kincaid. I’m not a complete imbecile. But your family’s wealth is back in Bryford, and we needed food and traveling cloaks here, now.”

  Kincaid was silent for a moment, still frowning unhappily at her. “I wanted you to keep it.”

  “Why does it matter so much to you?” Jocelyn insisted. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “I don’t know, I just…I didn’t want you to have to give it up. You’re always trying to make a sacrifice of yourself.”

  Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “It was a bracelet, Kincaid. Are you going to keep complaining, or are you going to eat the food?”

  “Well.” Kincaid’s smile was already creeping back as he eyed some dried meat. “If those are my only options…”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

 
Jocelyn’s first thought on waking was that she was very glad to have purchased the traveling cloaks. Even with hers wrapped tightly around her, the chill of the morning air seemed to have seeped into her bones.

  She sat up slowly, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. She couldn’t remember anything distinct, but she was certain she had been dreaming of Princess Sarai. She sighed. She had enough troubles of her own, without borrowing any from the long-dead royal.

  She glanced over at Kincaid, still deeply asleep on the other side of the circle created by Elddreki’s body. He looked peaceful, but there was something about his posture, perhaps the way his hand rested on his sword next to him, that suggested that he would be ready to spring into action the moment he was roused.

  His auburn hair had flopped over his forehead, partially covering one eye, and she resisted the temptation to smooth it back. He lay on top of his traveling cloak, one corner of it folded up over his legs, his lean but muscular arms exposed to the cold and, she admitted to herself, to her clandestine scrutiny. She turned away from him with a sigh. He was as devastatingly attractive—and as off limits to her—as ever.

  Her gaze traveled out over Loch Arine, and she pushed up onto her knees, captivated by the beautiful sight. The water was a steely gray in the early morning, still and flat and impossibly deep. She hadn’t noticed it the night before, but dense clumps of bushes grew close to the water in many places, laden with flowers of a deep yellow. The pleasant color stood out strongly against the slate of the water.

  The loch was an elongated shape, stretching west to east. They were at its northwestern tip, and it was no great distance to the southern bank. But she thought it would take an hour or two to ride the length of the inlet to reach Arinton on the eastern tip.

  And then, the sea.

  She smiled at the thought. She had been to Kyona’s coast on a number of occasions, including visiting the seaside towns where each of her parents had grown up. But she had a feeling the coastline in this cold and rugged eastern region would be wilder, more impressive.