Downfall of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  Lucy didn’t know what to expect from the court—much like the dining hall, Balenol seemed a strange mix of welcome and intimidation. They had been treated graciously on all counts, but there was an ever-present, hard-to-define tension that made Lucy wonder if danger lurked nearby. Perhaps it was an inevitable result of the unspoken history of oppression between the kingdoms. Well…unspoken until you threw Cody into the mix, Lucy thought with an internal grimace.

  But in spite of all of it, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a chance she might feel at home here. Perhaps, if she could make a good enough impression, the people of Balenol might accept her in a way the people of Kyona seemed unlikely to ever fully do.

  From all she knew of Balenol, she hardly knew whether to hope for that acceptance or dread it.

  Chapter Five

  “There you are, Lucy! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Enjoying the view from up here again? Surely you’re not missing home already. You only just got here.”

  “You’ve been looking for me?” Lucy tried not to look too delighted. “Is Joss trying to find me? Did she ask you to look?”

  “Joss?” repeated Eamon. He joined Lucy on the ramparts, his forehead furrowing in the way she found adorable. “No. I think she’s having a riding lesson.”

  “Oh.” Lucy looked at her lap, still trying not to grin like the lovesick fool she was. “Why were you looking for me, then?”

  “Because…I don’t know.” Eamon looked awkward. “I wondered if you wanted to…”

  “To what?” Lucy looked at him hopefully.

  “To train with me,” said Eamon suddenly, sounding pleased with himself, as if he had come up with something brilliant.

  “Ooh, yes!” Lucy was on her feet in a heartbeat. “Will you teach me that move you used yesterday, on the visiting knight?”

  “You were watching that?” Was it Lucy’s imagination, or were Eamon’s cheeks slightly pink?

  “Of course,” she said as casually as she could. “Jocelyn and I often watch the training.” She flashed him a wicked grin. “I wanted to join in, but Jocelyn was too embarrassed.”

  Eamon chuckled. “You should have. No one would have seen you coming.” He smiled at her with all the superiority of a fifteen-year-old talking down to a fourteen-year-old. “Except me, of course. I could try to teach it to you, but I’m not sure your flimsy little sword could pull it off.”

  His grin only broadened at Lucy’s gasp of outrage. “I’ll make you take that back, Prince Eamon,” she promised. “My sword can do anything yours can.”

  Eamon laughed lightly. “Talk is cheap, Luciana. Prove it!”

  Lucy narrowed her eyes at him, then turned on her heel and hurried toward the steps, her feet almost flying in her eagerness to get her weapon and take him on. She heard Eamon approaching behind her and quickened her pace, grinning ahead when she heard his answering laugh.

  But the next moment her breath seemed stolen from her throat when she felt his hand grasp hers as he passed her.

  “Come on then,” he challenged, as he pulled her along, the two of them running now through the corridors. “Time to see if you can fight as well as you talk!”

  Lucy’s heart thumped unevenly, and it was all she could do to keep from grinning like an idiot as they raced through the castle, disregarding the titters of servants and the scandalized disapproval of passing courtiers. Eamon had the light of adventure in his eyes, as if he was a carefree child instead of the almost-grown crown prince.

  Except that he still clasped her hand in his, something he had never done before. And Lucy—her pulse racing, and her mind aflame with hopeful excitement—had never felt less like a child.

  Lucy woke with a groan, wondering why she felt so uncomfortable. The bed was soft and warm, but her leg ached. She rolled over, and winced as she identified the culprit. How had she come to fall asleep with her dagger strapped to her leg? She frowned as she sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Had she forgotten it, or had she intentionally left it on? She wasn’t in the habit of wearing it while she slept, but she was still a little off balance from being in a new place.

  She dressed quickly for the day, trying not to dwell on her dream about Eamon. She had woken from many similar dreams in the months since she had made it clear to him she no longer wanted a future together. She might spend her days rankling over the nightmare of Eamon’s betrayal, but at night, her mind seemed determined to bombard her with bittersweet memories of the past.

  She shook the thought off. She didn’t have time for such things now. She wanted her mind to be focused on where she was, and on the evening’s gala where she and the other visitors would be formally presented to the Balenan court.

  Her brother was waiting outside their rooms, looking better rested than she felt. It took Lucy a moment to realize why the castle felt so different as she and Matheus made their way through the corridors, toward breakfast. Then, all of a sudden, it hit her—sometime during the night, the rain had finally stopped. The castle felt quiet and peaceful, as if the very walls were relieved to have respite from the downpour.

  Breakfast passed uneventfully. The clearer conditions made it possible for the visitors to be shown around the city after the meal, something that had been impractical the day before. As she was led through the Balenan capital, Lucy tried to picture her mother here, walking these drab gray streets, mingling with the locals, who seemed more often than not to carry stern expressions. It was hard to imagine. The city of Nohl seemed in every way so unlike the casual forest community where Lucy had grown up.

  She noted with interest that the castle courtyard, a spot she knew had been a focal point of slave punishment, was now nothing more than an empty expanse of stone. Many people hurried across it, intent on their business, and apparently they held market days there sometimes. But the whipping post where her parents had met, and the execution blade that had almost claimed her father’s life, were no longer present.

  Cody gave a low whistle when he observed this change.

  “I guess the king was serious about trying to change people’s thinking, after all.” He shook his head. “The courtyard looks so strange without the blade.” Cody gave a smirk. “The Overseer would turn over in his grave if he could see what the city has become.”

  Matheus chuckled along with Cody, apparently feeling no discomfort at the reflection on their grandfather, but Lucy remained silent. She rubbed her arm, which was still sore from the previous day’s misadventure, and waited for the conversation to turn away from her mother’s father. She always felt unnerved at the mention of her grandfather, and even more so since her eventful introduction to her uncle. She adored her mother, and aspired to be like her in most things, but it wasn’t pleasant to think of the tainted bloodline she had come from.

  Lucy tried to shake off such thoughts as she prepared for the gala that evening. She had a feeling that spurning her Balenan heritage was not the best way to endear herself to the local dignitaries.

  Their tour of the city had finished before lunch, allowing plenty of time in the afternoon for the guests to get ready for the evening’s event. Still, Lucy felt far from prepared as she and her brother again traveled the halls together on their way to the gala.

  “What’s up with you, Lucy?”

  “What do you mean?” Lucy turned to her brother, the question coming out more curtly than she had intended. They were waiting outside the castle’s ballroom, and Lucy’s nerves were growing by the minute. Apparently they had to be announced like royalty, despite their common status.

  Matheus raised his eyebrows at her tone. “You’re fidgeting worse than you did the time you thought Father had found out we were the ones to steal his throwing knives.”

  Lucy made a shushing motion with her hand, glancing anxiously at the doors in front of them. Mercifully, they were still closed. “What is it with my family’s obsession with talking about weapons at public functions?” she muttered.

  “Are you talking to yourself
, now?” Matheus asked incredulously.

  “I’m just a little nervous,” Lucy admitted. “We don’t know what to expect, after all.”

  Matheus snorted. “They’re not going to eat you, Lucy.”

  “We’ll see,” said Lucy grimly, smoothing a ruffle out of her voluminous skirts. Her dress was an elaborate creation, with layer upon layer of sheer green material.

  She knew that she looked glorious in it. Lucy didn’t think that she was vain—she tried not to value her appearance above its worth. But there was no point pretending she was unaware of her own beauty. It was hard to see how she possibly could be, having been complimented on it as long as she could remember.

  And it would be equally foolish to pretend that she didn’t want the people on the other side of that door to admire the way she looked. It was part of making a good impression, after all. But it wasn’t enough by itself. She had learned that from her mother. Being admired in such a way was not the same as being respected.

  Her mother was the perfect model of what it took to not only impress people, but make them warm to you. And her beauty was only one part of it—it was as much her sweet nature, her intelligence, her capability, the quiet elegance she wore unconsciously at all times and in all company. Lucy would give a great deal for people to see those same things when they looked at her.

  “Luciana and Matheus of Raldon, Kyona, of the Wrendal line.”

  Even through the heavy door, the clear voice cut through the noise of the ballroom beyond. Lucy and Matheus had only a moment to exchange a startled look before the doors swung wide, and they found themselves confronted with a sea of curious faces, all pointed eagerly in their direction.

  Lucy swallowed her nerves, raising her head proudly and reminding herself that she was representing her family and her kingdom. She refused to let herself be rattled by the unexpected introduction as a Wrendal—a name with no positive associations for her.

  She swept into the room, Matheus walking beside her with all the awkwardness of a fifteen-year-old appearing for the first time at such a function. Unlike Lucy, her brothers had never been interested to attend the balls and parties that they were regularly invited to at the castle at Kynton. Lucy tried to project confidence as much for Matheus as for herself as she scanned the room.

  Her first impression was the clothes. The men were dressed in somber hues, and Matheus’s Kyonan garb didn’t look too out of place, although its fabric was not as stiff or as heavy as the locals’ clothes. But the women wore much brighter, more vibrant colors than their counterparts in Kyona. The room seemed filled with a swirling rainbow of skirts, and as Lucy had heard her mother describe, the dresses were sheer compared to those worn in the court at Kynton, most leaving the shoulders and arms bare. A glance to the side showed Matheus blinking rapidly, looking awkward, and unsure where to direct his eyes.

  But Lucy was mesmerized. The dresses were beautiful, and she suddenly wished her mother hadn’t been so conservative in insisting that Lucy wear something a little more covering than the prevailing fashion in Balenol. She liked the idea of the freedom that would surely come with such a garment, and not just because of the stifling heat that still pervaded the air, even at nighttime.

  From the clothes, her gaze moved to the faces. She knew a moment of anxiety, wondering if her foreign clothes would make her look ridiculous and prudish to these people. But she needn’t have worried. For every face that showed thinly veiled suspicion—and there were quite a few—two others showed blatant admiration. She could see from the widened eyes of courtiers who were surely too old to be impressed by her beauty that her similarity to her mother had been noticed by more than just King Giles.

  Before she could stop herself, she found her eyes doing what they had always done, at every ball she had ever attended. She could tell herself she didn’t care, but it was no use. She just couldn’t seem to help seeking out Eamon’s lithe, golden-haired figure, looking for his reaction to her arrival.

  And she wasn’t disappointed. A small part of her—the part that didn’t seem to have gotten the message that she didn’t care—had wondered whether he would think she looked tame and unattractive next to all these local women, flaunting a scandalous amount of skin in their form-hugging dresses. But if Eamon had been gawking at the unfamiliar dresses before, it was apparently all out of his system. Because Lucy knew the moment her eyes alighted on him, as she had known at every other ball they had attended together, that he only had eyes for her.

  And there was no denying that his reaction to her appearance in her gown was everything her vanity could desire. Lucy had learned from a young age to recognize the look in a man’s eye when he was taken with her. She could remember, with perfect clarity, the first time Eamon had looked at her like that, when she was fifteen, and he was sixteen. It had been one of her favorite memories.

  The thing was, half the men in the room were looking at her like that at this moment, and that fact was clearly not lost on Eamon, either. She turned her gaze away as his eyes swept the sea of faces, his expression now tinged with anxiety. She was here to make an impression on the Balenans, not to worry about what Eamon was thinking or feeling.

  Once she had formally greeted her royal hosts, she moved toward Jocelyn and Kincaid, seeking the security of their company. She had picked Cody out of the crowd soon after her entrance. He hadn’t merited a formal announcement, and she wondered if that had always been the plan, or if it was the result of his outburst during the welcome luncheon the day before.

  He was looking around him as though the ballroom was a den of vipers. When his eyes rested on Lucy, they contained none of the admiration but all of the worry that Eamon’s gaze had held. Lucy sent him a look that was her public equivalent of rolling her eyes, intentionally directing her steps away from him. She had a feeling that given half the chance, Cody would spend the evening glaring down any young man who tried to approach her. Which would defeat the purpose of coming on this trip without her father in tow.

  Eamon would probably love nothing more than to do the same thing, she acknowledged to herself. But at least the reason he didn’t want other men to dance with her was because he wanted to dance with her himself—something that no one could accuse Cody of wanting to do.

  In any event, their suspicious expressions were enough to make Lucy avoid them both, because she had every intention of dancing and being admired, regardless of either man’s opinion about it.

  And in fact, she didn’t even make it to Jocelyn and her husband before she was approached by an eager young local, several more following in his wake. Matheus continued past her and her new group, looking slightly disgusted at the way the men were falling all over themselves to compliment his sister.

  Lucy tried not to show it, but there was undeniable tension in her shoulders as she surreptitiously watched her brother walking alone through the group of Balenan strangers. It took a supreme effort of will to suppress the instinct to rest her hand on her concealed weapon, and she didn’t let herself relax until she saw Matheus join Cody.

  But she knew her brother would be safe with the older Kyonan man, and she allowed her full attention to return to the men in front of her. She hoped desperately that no one had noticed her suspicion or her combative stance as she had scanned the room for threats to her brother. She pictured the way her mother held herself at such events, graceful and calm, with a smile and a kind word for everyone. Lucy tried to emulate that manner, smiling graciously and accepting the Balenans’ introductions and offers of refreshments with a serene expression.

  It was exhausting, but it was an act with which she was familiar. She had been playing a similar part at the court in Kynton for some time now. And the return for her efforts was satisfying. Every one of the men in front of her was clearly very impressed with what they saw. There was no denying that being admired was a welcome boost to her confidence, but as her eyes flicked involuntarily to Eamon, who looked like he was liable to shatter the wine glass in his hand as he wa
tched the group unblinkingly, she tasted a bitter edge to her success. It was impossible not to wonder if this facade of demure elegance, made so much more convincing by her beautiful face, was what had always brought that same look of admiration to Eamon’s eye.

  All the more reason to be glad things were at an end between them, she told herself firmly. Her mother had been delighted to escape a formal court life here in Nohl, and Jocelyn had often chafed against the restrictions of her royal position. Perhaps Lucy had been mad to think that she would enjoy the role of princess by Eamon’s side.

  Before Lucy could get too caught up in these thoughts, dancing was announced, and she was mobbed by eager invitations. Her spirits lifted at the promise of activity. She had always enjoyed dancing, and she was starting to chafe at standing around. She accepted someone’s hand at random, and was soon swept into motion. She was relieved to discover that her mother had been right that the dances were similar to those favored in Kyona. Still, the extra lessons her mother had given her were sure to come in useful.

  Lucy’s partner was not especially stimulating company, but he was a competent dancer, so Lucy was satisfied. She pasted a polite smile on her face and tuned him out, focusing on the release of swirling across the stone floor. Her eyes scanned the crowd as she moved, taking note of the location of the rest of her party. She was not surprised to see both Matheus and Cody standing out of the dancing, looking well pleased with their escape.

  It seemed that the Balenan king and queen were not going to dance, both sitting in state at one end of the large room. But Lucy noted that Prince Astor, the king’s brother, had taken Jocelyn’s hand for the first dance. It made sense—as a princess of both Kyona and Valoria, Jocelyn held by far the highest status of any of the visiting women. And Eamon had evidently been primed on his duty before the gala, because he was dancing with Prince Astor’s wife. Kincaid, who was below Eamon in status, not being a crown prince, was dancing with Prince Roland’s wife. She looked much more jolly than the other Balenan princess, and the Valorian prince actually appeared to be enjoying the dance, if you could ignore the way his eyes regularly strayed to his wife.