Legacy of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  “Neither have I,” said the other noblewoman. “If you ask me, he doesn’t even like her. My father says this marriage alliance might be the biggest mistake Valoria has ever made. Poor Prince Germain.” Her voice turned caressing as she said the name, and Sarai’s hands clenched involuntarily on the windowsill. “He must regret it as much as we do.” The girl sniggered unpleasantly. “Maybe when she’s next off questing for mythical creatures, she’ll fall off that precious Kyonan mare of hers and get trampled, and Prince Germain will be free.”

  Sarai’s gaze was still locked on Germain, who had just bested his adversary. She was surprised to feel tears standing in her eyes. She wouldn’t have thought such paltry attacks had the power to wound her.

  Her husband shook hands with the defeated guard, then wiped his face with a cloth. Before he could recommence his training, a page ran up to him. He leaned toward the boy, inclining his head, then gave a curt nod and handed his weapon off to a nearby squire.

  “It looks like the prince is being called away,” sighed one of the gossiping noblewomen. “No point tarrying to watch any longer.”

  Sarai remained rooted to the spot as their voices faded away. Once they had left, she leaned her head against the windowsill, trying to calm her breathing. She had known how the court whispered about her, but it was somehow much more painful to hear it with her own ears. She wished fleetingly that Parmida was there to pour out her troubles to. Her younger sister would have her back no matter what happened. She would tell her to ignore the petty noble girls who were just sour about not snagging the crown prince themselves.

  Then she remembered afresh that Parmida was dead, murdered. A stab of pain shot through her, and she reminded herself dully that there was no one to listen to her troubles. She was all alone.

  And yet, her gaze lingered on Prince Germain as he re-donned his tunic in Valoria’s royal purple. She didn’t move from the window until he was out of sight, and her eyes followed him all the way out of the training yard.

  She was so disheartened by the overheard conversation, that for the first time since arriving in Valoria, she contemplated feigning illness in order to avoid the evening meal. But she told herself sternly that whether or not she felt lonely and miserable, she was still a princess, with all a princess’s duties.

  And when she arrived for the meal, her heart lifted. It seemed her discipline was to be rewarded, and she would not have to face the two girls, and the countless other nobles who whispered about her behind their hands. There was no formal court spread. Prince Germain’s sister, some five years older than him, had that moment arrived with her family from her husband’s estate in the countryside. It seemed the royal family was to indulge in the rare comfort of an intimate family meal.

  Not that Sarai felt much intimacy with anyone present, of course. Germain’s other sister, also older than him, had recently married a noble who spent most of his time in Bryford. But regular meals together had done nothing to form any understanding between Sarai and either the husband or the wife. Perhaps she was too sensitive, but she felt disapproval behind their cold politeness every time they spoke to her. And Germain’s younger brother spoke to her as little as possible.

  Still, it was infinitely better than another evening meal under the malicious scrutiny of the court. And in fact, the royal family seemed more relaxed and pleasant this evening than she had ever seen them. The visiting sister was obviously a favorite with everyone, and she had brought her two young children. Sarai had never seen Valoria’s stately queen look so warm—the softness in her eyes as they rested on her grandchildren was startling. In the absence of anyone but the family and the servants, the children romped and played with astonishing freedom, and even the austere king didn’t check them.

  Germain was detained by something—Sarai had no more idea what it might be than anyone else present—and he was the last to arrive. He greeted his wife with respectful punctiliousness, kissing the back of her hand and inquiring after her health in the accepted mode. She found it strangely hard to meet his eyes after her clandestine observation of him earlier that day. Her gaze was drawn to his chest, and although it was now covered in formal garb, she could imagine the way his muscles rippled underneath.

  He seemed to sense her hesitation, and she thought there was curiosity in his eyes when she finally met them. But she greeted him calmly, and after another moment he turned away to welcome his sister, embracing her warmly and exclaiming over how long it had been since her last visit. Sarai watched in amusement, and some surprise, as “Uncle Germain” was mobbed by the children, receiving their raptures with smiling good humor.

  The evening was unseasonably chilly, and after the meal a fire was lit in the large fireplace. Sarai had expected the children would be sent to bed with their nursemaid immediately following the meal, if not before it, so she was amazed to see them clamoring for Germain’s attention, demanding a story. She was even more amazed when he gave in readily, allowing himself to be pulled closer to the fire.

  Sarai tried to attend to the conversation around her, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the scene by the fireplace. She was fascinated by the sight of her reserved husband, his normally inexpressive face alight as he told the children a fable about a mountain-dwelling goatherd who tamed a wild wolf, only to discover the wolf was an enchanted king. Germain looked so different, allowing one of the children to ride on his back as he pretended to be the wolf, growling and chuckling by turns.

  It was a pleasant picture, and one she had certainly never seen before. Sarai found herself wondering if he was like this whenever his niece and nephew were present. Would he tell stories like that, and play so freely, with their children one day?

  Her cheeks flushed at the thought, and at that moment Germain seemed to become suddenly aware of her eyes on him. He looked up quickly, and their gazes locked. Sarai could feel that her cheeks were still warm, but she didn’t look away. Germain had a questioning look on his face, and she gave him the smallest of smiles. She thought his expression softened slightly, but a second later his attention was forcefully claimed by his nephew, and the moment passed.

  When the children were finally shooed out of the room by their nursemaid, Germain came over to Sarai.

  “How was my performance as the wolf?”

  Sarai looked up in surprise at the uncharacteristic note of humor in his voice. The smile was still in Germain’s eyes, and it softened his normally serious face. She cast her eyes down, smiling faintly herself.

  “I was surprised to hear you telling that story. It was my favorite fable as a child.”

  “It was mine, as well,” said Germain, sounding surprised himself. He sat down beside her, his body angled toward her and his air more relaxed than she had ever seen it.

  “Truly?” asked Sarai, feeling strangely pleased. “I didn’t know it was even told in Valoria.”

  “Oh yes,” said Germain. “The mountains may be Kyona’s, but we feel their fascination as well. We have many stories about the mountains.”

  Sarai smiled, but the gesture didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. The mention of her homeland had sent her thoughts spinning in a familiar, and heart-wrenching, direction.

  The silence stretched out for a moment, then Germain spoke, his tone tentative. “Would you like to stroll through the gardens with me?”

  Sarai looked up, surprised yet again.

  “I have been wanting to speak with you about something,” Germain added quickly, as if an explanation was needed for why he wanted to enjoy a relaxed walk with his wife. Which, by Sarai’s experience of marriage so far, it was.

  “Very well,” she agreed, rising from her seat.

  Germain offered her his arm, and she took it almost shyly. As they walked toward the gardens, their steps unhurried, her thoughts circled back to that afternoon, how she had been struck by how handsome he was. His arm was strong under her hand, and she thought suddenly of the way his muscles had bunched as he fought the guard in the training yar
d. He had looked so powerful, dangerous even. But with those same arms he had wrestled his nephew playfully, and embraced his sister with the warmth of real affection.

  Sarai wondered what it would be like if he were to greet her with such genuine gladness after they had been apart. She thought about how she had felt when she watched him by the fire, telling the old tale to his young listeners with unashamed enthusiasm. She thought of the softness on his face when their eyes had locked, and her own inevitable reflections that they might share just such a scene one day, but with their own children.

  She felt a curious emotion, so out of place in her life these last months that it took a long moment to identify it. Happiness. It was a flicker of happiness, if not for the present, at least imagined for the future. The thought made her mind whirl confusingly. Could it be possible to actually be happy in her life here, with Germain?

  No. She shook the idea off. Unthinkable to be happy in Valoria, when she was forever barred from her own beloved kingdom. Unthinkable to be happy anywhere or with anyone after what had happened to her family. She felt guilty for even considering putting aside her grief.

  “What did you want to speak to me about?”

  They had reached the gardens, lit by many bright lanterns, and had been walking through them in silence. The perfume of late-blooming flowers drifted through the air.

  Germain hesitated for a moment too long, and Sarai began to feel nervous. She remembered the words of the women that afternoon. Was Germain going to reproach her for the unprofitable alliance their marriage had turned out to be? He behaved always with respectful restraint, but after all these months, could he no longer hold his peace? Was he going to admit he regretted their marriage?

  “I wished to speak to you about your search,” he said at last, his voice even. “Your search for dragons.”

  Sarai stilled, turning to look up at him with hard eyes. “What of it, Sire?”

  Germain sighed, looking frustrated at the form of address, but he didn’t correct her. Other people were enjoying the gardens, chatter and the occasional laugh reaching out to the royal couple through the still night air, and Germain spoke quietly.

  “I do not begrudge you your search, Sarai, but I am not comfortable to have you away from Bryford so often. And I did not fully understand before you left on your last journey just how close the cave was to the border.”

  “I apologize, Sire,” said Sarai colorlessly. Of course he disapproved. Of course he didn’t understand. She had never expected him to. “It was not my intention to deceive you.”

  “I know it wasn’t,” said Germain calmly. “And you have returned safely, for which I am very glad. But I would like you to stop these trips. I want you to stay here, where you’re safe, and where the court can see you growing into your role as my wife, and their future queen.”

  Sarai withdrew her hand from his arm and stepped back. The implication was clear, and even in her irritation she felt a prickle of shame at the realization that he didn’t think she was adequately fulfilling her duties.

  “I will of course do as you wish,” she said, her tone more emotionless than ever. “You need not have mentioned it, because I did not intend any further trips. There are no more locations to visit. There is no more reason to hope.”

  Her voice caught ever so slightly on the last word, and Germain stepped forward, his voice growing softer.

  “Sarai—”

  “I will certainly stay in Bryford,” she continued. “And I can only express my regret that I have been remiss in my duties. I will endeavor not to give you cause for complaint again.”

  “I did not mean to complain, Sarai,” said Germain, sounding frustrated. “And I didn’t say you have been remiss in your duties. I wish only to support you as you settle into your life here.”

  “You are good, Sire,” Sarai said, inclining her head formally. “I find that the night is colder than I anticipated, and I am tired. I think I will withdraw.”

  Germain met her eyes for a moment, his expression hard and searching. Then he stepped back, kissing her hand in a formal gesture of release.

  Sarai retreated quickly, but she didn’t withdraw to her suite. She wandered the gardens aimlessly, breathing in the scent of the flowers and trying to calm the torrent of emotion roiling inside her. Germain’s politely phrased reproach, and the disappointment in her that surely lay behind it, stung all the more bitterly because of the warmth that had preceded it. For a moment Sarai had almost dared to hope that she would not always be lonely and disliked.

  She found a bench, partially concealed behind an arbor laden with blooms. She had been sitting there only a few minutes when she was startled by a greeting.

  “Sarai. May I join you?”

  She looked up in surprise to see Germain’s visiting sister.

  “Please,” Sarai invited, gesturing toward the bench. She would have preferred to be alone, but she could hardly say as much.

  “I am sorry I have not had the opportunity to get to know you better,” said Sarai’s sister-in-law, settling herself on the bench. “It must be lonely for you here in Bryford, so far from your former home.”

  Sarai’s eyes pricked with unexpected tears. It was such a simple thing, but it touched her more than she could say to have someone acknowledge her crippling loneliness, instead of expecting her to occupy herself happily with Bryford’s court life.

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  Before her companion could reply, both ladies’ attention was caught by a musical voice issuing from the next row of flowers.

  “Your Highness! What an unexpected pleasure to meet you here. Is it not a delight to stroll among these beautiful blooms?”

  Germain’s answering voice was more moderated, and Sarai couldn’t make out his words. Her heart thumped strangely—she hadn’t realized he was still walking in the garden, and had certainly not been aware he was so close by.

  As the young woman continued to simper, Sarai realized suddenly that she recognized the voice. It was the noblewoman who had expressed the hope that afternoon that the Kyonan princess might be trampled by her horse. Except now that she was talking to the prince instead of about him, her voice sounded much more pleasant and much less snide.

  Sarai shifted slightly to the side so she could see the pair, although they would be unlikely to see her, hidden by the arbor as she was. She noted with a curious pang that the woman was beautiful. Her fair hair and angelic face made Sarai feel dark and dull in comparison.

  “She, for example, has probably not been making a great effort to make you feel welcome.”

  Germain’s sister spoke as though their conversation hadn’t been interrupted, gesturing toward her brother and his companion with her head.

  Sarai answered only with a grim smile.

  “Lady Marietta,” said her companion, speaking softly. “She is the oldest daughter of one of our best families, and unless I’m much mistaken, she’s been determined to catch Germain since she was about fourteen.”

  Sarai said nothing, still watching the other conversation. Germain spoke quietly, his smile polite, but Lady Marietta gushed sycophantically, her voice much too loud. She was laughing unnaturally often, casting her gaze downward only to look up demurely at the prince through her lashes. Sarai narrowed her own eyes at the display.

  “Be on your guard with her,” Germain’s sister cautioned. “I truly think she’d do you a mischief if she could.” She glanced over and seemed to take in Sarai’s expression. “Not that Germain would let anyone do you a mischief, I’m sure,” she added quickly.

  “No, he is very good in his concern for my safety,” agreed Sarai. She was thinking of his command that she go on no more searches, and her face and voice were expressionless.

  “Of course he is. You’re his wife. He will protect you and care for you for the rest of his life.”

  “I don’t think Lady Marietta is quite so convinced of that,” said Sarai dryly, her eyes on the fair-haired beauty who was still flirting s
hamelessly with the prince. As she watched, Lady Marietta laid a playful hand on Germain’s arm, just where Sarai’s hand had rested a short time before.

  A spark of intense emotion flared up inside Sarai, overwhelming her with its potency. That was her husband Lady Marietta was trying to captivate. Hers! Not even the fact that Germain withdrew his arm as soon as he could politely do so appeased her. She shook her head to clear it, knowing she was being foolish. Germain was an honorable man, however warm and engaging Lady Marietta might be able to make herself. And Sarai had no justification for feeling jealous if Germain didn’t have her heart.

  But justification or not, heat seemed to rush through her body as the pair continued to converse. Germain said something in his deep steady voice, the words indistinguishable. Lady Marietta laughed, a tinkling, musical sound, and Germain smiled in response, his features once again softened by the pleasant expression.

  Sarai glanced sideways to see that her sister-in-law was also watching the duo, a slight frown on her face.

  “Shall we join them?” the Valorian princess suggested. “I daresay Germain would be pleased to escort you inside if you are ready to leave the gardens. And I think Lady Marietta at least would benefit from a reminder of your—”

  Existence? Sarai thought.

  “—presence,” the older princess finished. She looked expectantly at Sarai.

  But the Kyonan shook her head. “Certainly not,” she said with dignity. “There is no occasion for me to interfere. It would be very wrong of me to expect to dictate to my husband how he should conduct himself.”

  Germain’s sister was silent, but her forehead was creased, as though Sarai’s answer troubled her. But Sarai had no intention of inserting herself into the situation like a jealous shrew. She might have lost her home and her family, but she still had her pride.