Downfall of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  But finally, in spite of all the silent turbulence swirling through the throne room, the ceremony was complete, and King Giles was officially crowned. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief, as much that her mother’s cousin had survived long enough to properly take the crown as that she could finally get away from the formalities. It hadn’t escaped her notice that this second near-fatal incident made the first accident all the more suspicious.

  Once the ceremony was over, the visitors withdrew to their own part of the castle, instead of milling around like most of the attendees. Lucy supposed they would have to re-emerge soon for the formal luncheon, but a break would do them all good. She saw one of Eamon’s guards hurrying to find the physician, and was glad that the stubborn prince was going to be looked at again. Perhaps the physician would be able to convince him to sit the rest of the formalities out.

  Before Eamon disappeared into his chamber, Lucy gathered her courage to approach him. She still wasn’t entirely sure what she thought about Jocelyn’s outburst, but one omission had been troubling her throughout the whole ceremony, and she wanted to get it off her chest while she had the chance.

  “Eamon?”

  The prince turned to her immediately, looking surprised at her greeting. She saw, to her shame, that he also looked apprehensive. She really had been unkind to him over the last few months.

  “I just wanted to say…” Her voice faltered, and she cleared her throat, trying again. “I wanted to say I’m sorry I spoke so harshly to you before. I’m glad you’re all right. I’m grateful for what you did in there, and…” She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t…that I failed to…”

  “It’s all right, Lucy,” said Eamon, and the softness of his voice almost brought tears to her eyes. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. No one expects you to be a bodyguard.”

  Lucy nodded, still not able to meet his eyes. It was kind of him to reassure her, but she knew that Eamon wasn’t being entirely truthful. In that moment, back in the antechamber, he had expected her to act on the attack she had seen coming, and he had been confused by her hesitation.

  Not wishing to prolong the discussion, she turned away, heading for her own suite. But she wasn’t destined to reach the sanctuary of her chamber. She had almost reached the door when Cody pulled her up short. He had been hovering close enough that she was fairly sure he had heard every word of her interaction with Eamon, and his gaze was far too shrewd as he interrupted her progress.

  “A word, Lucy?”

  She barely restrained a groan. Was there anyone in the group who didn’t want to pull her aside this morning? She hoped Cody wasn’t going to chew her out for once again finding herself in danger, because her emotions were so close to the surface, she would probably end up either pulling a blade on him or sobbing on his chest, depending which way he prodded her.

  However, she recognized the look of determination in the older man’s face, and she made no effort to resist as he tugged her into an unoccupied parlor in the same wing as their guest suites.

  “What really happened, Lucy?” Cody said without preamble, the moment they were alone.

  “What do you mean?” Lucy asked unconvincingly. “We already told you. Eamon’s guard went rogue and threw a dagger at the king. Eamon pushed him out of the way, and took the blade in his arm.”

  “Lucy.” Cody was clearly unimpressed. “Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re hiding something? What was all that Prince Eamon was just saying about you not being a bodyguard?”

  Lucy wrapped her arms around herself, uncomfortable. She debated trying to make something up, but Cody wasn’t likely to be easily deterred. “I hesitated. I hesitated, and Eamon saw it.”

  “Hesitated?” Cody prompted when she didn’t elaborate.

  Lucy sighed. “I was the one who realized what was happening, not Eamon. I went for my weapon, and Eamon saw me do it. But I stopped myself. I couldn’t bring myself to use it in front of King Giles and his guards. Not to mention Eamon.” She buried her face in her hands, her emotions suddenly getting the better of her. “And Eamon was almost killed because of it. And if he hadn’t been so quick to react, the guard would have killed the king, and we would probably be at war with Balenol right now.”

  She didn’t look up, but she could hear Cody’s frown in his voice. “I don’t understand, Lucy. Why didn’t you want to use your weapon? When the stakes were so high, why would you hesitate?”

  Lucy lowered her hands at last. “I didn’t want to be exposed for what I really am,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Again.”

  “What does that even mean?” Cody asked, clearly impatient but trying to speak gently.

  “I know you don’t understand, Cody,” said Lucy dully. “But I don’t want people to see me as a deadly fighter.”

  “But you are a deadly fighter,” said Cody blankly. “It’s one of your most impressive characteristics.”

  Lucy made a noise of frustration. “Impressive to you, maybe, but do you think the court in Kynton will admire me for that? Do you think the court in Nohl will admire me for that?”

  “Who cares if they admire you?” Cody said impatiently, but Lucy cut him off.

  “I do! I care! I’ve worked hard to get people to see me the way they see my mother, and I don’t want to be shown up for the fraud I am. Not again!”

  Cody stared at her for a moment, his expression confused. “What do you mean again?” he asked at last. “What aren’t you telling me, Lucy?”

  Lucy turned away slightly, a strange suffocating feeling rising up in her chest. For a moment she kept her mouth clamped firmly shut. But all at once she realized how much she wanted to tell Cody, to get it out in the open.

  “My father didn’t kill Scanlon,” she said abruptly. “I did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She took a deep breath. “It was me who threw the knife that killed him. Father just stepped in front of me to make it look like he did it. But everyone who was right there saw what really happened. Eamon, Jocelyn, Kincaid, Lord Henrik. My family. They all know.”

  For a moment there was silence. She snuck a glance at Cody, and saw him looking at her with a strange expression.

  “You saved Benjy’s life.”

  She shrugged. “I killed someone.”

  “In order to save your little brother’s life.”

  Lucy just shrugged again, trying to keep her emotions in check.

  “Why would you be ashamed of that, Lucy?” Cody’s voice was incredulous. “Why would you regret using your skills in that situation?”

  She sighed. “I don’t regret it, exactly. Of course I’m glad that Benjy didn’t die. But I wish it didn’t have to be me. I wish it had been Father, and he obviously wishes that, too.”

  “Why do you assume that?”

  “Why else did he take the blame?” Lucy asked dryly. “If he didn’t think what I did was shameful?”

  Cody was silent for a moment. “I don’t think that’s why he took the blame,” he said at last. “But I can see why you would misunderstand. I imagine he was trying to protect you. Emotionally. I’m sure he wasn’t ashamed of you.” He furrowed his brow as he watched her. “Why didn’t you tell me before now? You must have known I wouldn’t be shocked. Far from it. I’m glad all our countless hours of extra training were put to such good use!”

  Lucy raised a helpless shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s not that I thought you’d disapprove, of course not. I just didn’t want to talk about it, I guess.”

  Cody frowned. “You’ve talked about it with someone, though, surely? Your mother?”

  Lucy nodded. “Yes. She insisted on having a heart to heart conversation about it.” She made a face. “That just made it worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that she was full of sympathy and understanding. She agreed with you that I should be proud of having saved Benjy, not ashamed of having killed someone. But she said that she un
derstood what I was feeling perfectly. She said that she had blood on her hands way too young, and she knows far too well the impact it has. The guilt, the darkness it brings into your heart. She said she never wanted that for me.”

  “And why did that make it worse?” asked Cody cautiously.

  “Because!” Lucy raised her arms in a gesture of frustration. “She doesn’t know what I really am! Even she would be disgusted if she knew what’s in my heart. I wish I had felt guilty and horrified by what I’d done when I killed Scanlon. She told me about the first time she took someone’s life, and how it ripped her apart. She seemed to think it must have been the hardest thing I’d ever done. And in some ways it was. But in another way it was easy. Way too easy. And I wasn’t horrified because I felt guilty for killing him. I was horrified because I felt exposed! Because everyone saw how deadly I really am.”

  She paused, breathing hard, but Cody said nothing. He was watching her with confusion, clearly trying to make sense of her rambling thoughts.

  “You don’t understand, Cody,” Lucy said wearily. “My mother thinks I’m like her—everyone does. And I’ve tried hard to live up to that. I look like her on the outside, and I want to be like her on the inside, too, I really do. She’s strong and capable as well as beautiful. She knows how to defend herself, but she’s not deadly like I am. I admire her for being willing to start the resistance, even when no one else in Nohl cared about the slaves. But she’s a gentle spirit inside, you know she is. She’s told me, lots of times, how much she hated the fighting, the bloodshed, the violence. She hated being put in the position of having to fight.”

  Lucy turned appealing eyes on Cody. “I’m not like that, Cody, not truly. Well, you know that better than anyone. Why do you think I want to keep our training secret from even my family? I don’t want them to know what’s really in my heart. I don’t want them to know how much I love fighting. I love the feeling of power that comes with being deadly with a weapon, being stronger and faster than other people.” She spread her arms wide. “What does that say about me? All my life I’ve wanted to be like my mother, but I’m not!” She shuddered. “From everything I’ve heard, I think I’m more like her father. More like her brother.”

  Cody listened to her tirade with a furrowed brow. When he spoke, he did so in his usual matter-of-fact way, no heat to his words.

  “You haven’t got the slightest clue what you’re talking about.”

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “It was already obvious to me that you’re at war with yourself over your particular abilities,” said Cody, as if she hadn’t spoken. “I mean, it was nothing but self-conscious foolishness to insist we keep our extra training secret. But I didn’t see any harm in it. I figured you’d grow out of being embarrassed, and I thought it was more important to hone your natural talent than to argue with you about the strange form your vanity was taking. But I had no idea how deep the problem went.” He sighed. “You’re being ridiculous, but I suppose it won’t fix anything for me to say so.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I’ll have to show you.”

  “What does that mean?” Lucy asked shortly. From anyone else, she would have been offended at such an unflattering dismissal of her deepest, darkest insecurities. But from Cody it was strangely reassuring. He had always had a way of making every catastrophe seem manageable.

  “It means we’re training tomorrow, and I’m not taking no for an answer,” he said simply. “Meet me in the castle courtyard just after dawn.” He ran his eyes up and down her slim form, his expression clearly disapproving as he took in her immaculately fitted gown. “And don’t come dressed like that.”

  “But Cody—”

  He cut her off with a raised hand. “Just after dawn, Lucy. Don’t be late.”

  And without giving her a chance to respond, he strode briskly from the room.

  Chapter Ten

  Lucy tapped her fingernails against the hilt of her dagger impatiently. The shadows blanketing the courtyard were only just beginning to soften with the gray light of dawn. She had given in to what she knew Cody wanted and had dressed in the leggings and tunic that were often worn by women in the forest community of Raldon. It was absurd to train in a gown, and she had a feeling Cody wouldn’t go easy on her today. But she wasn’t exactly eager for any of her new Balenan admirers—or critics—to see her dressed this way, and she was anxious to be gone from this very public meeting place.

  “Don’t be late, Lucy,” she muttered in a disgruntled way.

  She took a deep breath, trying to dispel her grouchiness before Cody joined her. It wasn’t really his fault she was so on edge. In all honesty, she was grateful to him for pushing her so hard. The truth was that it had been years since she had gone this long without training, and she was itching for the release of a good sparring session.

  But she hadn’t slept well, and her patience was consequently low. She had dreamed about Eamon again. This time her mind hadn’t been assaulting her with happy memories of the past—she only wished it had. Instead the dream had been a tangled mess of memory and fiction. She had again watched the dagger plunge into the prince, only to realize with horror—and an even more horrifying twinge of vengeful satisfaction—that it had been her own hand that had thrown it.

  The sight of him lying on the ground, blood pooling around a fatal wound, was nothing but the fabrication of an overwrought mind. But the look in his eyes, the regret, the betrayal, the heartbreak, had been straight out of her memory. She had seen that look on his face a dozen times, most potently on the day he ordered the attack on Raldon.

  “Ready to go?”

  The soft voice made her jump, but she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Cody had always been known for his ability to sneak around undetected. It had been his most valuable skill in his rebel days, and was one of the many areas he had trained her in.

  “I’ve been ready since dawn, as instructed,” she said waspishly. “What took you so long, old man?”

  Cody just grinned, heaving something further up his shoulder. Lucy raised her eyebrows as she took in his burden.

  “Bow and arrows? And did you bring me a sword?”

  “We’re going to cover a few bases today,” Cody said placidly. “I assume you brought your dagger?”

  “Would I be wearing this scandalous get up if I wasn’t armed?” Lucy asked with a long-suffering sigh.

  Cody snorted. “It covers much more of you than the Balenans’ dresses.”

  “Ah yes, but it’s not just about how much skin you can see,” said Lucy sagely. “It’s about the power of suggestion.”

  “Whatever,” said Cody, starting across the courtyard. “That’s more your area, so I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Ah!” Lucy teased, as she followed close behind him. “So the master admits he needs training from the apprentice.”

  “I didn’t admit any such thing. I’m interested in learning useful things.”

  “One day, Cody,” said Lucy severely, “you’ll meet a woman who you want to impress. And then you’ll wish you’d paid more attention to these useless skills.”

  “Maybe,” shrugged Cody, unconcerned. “But if I haven’t been caught by now, it seems like I probably never will be. And,” he added, his voice provocatively superior, “if I did meet someone I liked, I wouldn’t come to a child like you for advice.”

  Lucy ignored the insult, well aware he was trying to rile her. It was actually quite a novelty for Cody to engage with her at all on such a frivolous topic. He wasn’t wrong that this was more her area. Yet another way in which she couldn’t measure up to her mother. The older woman’s legendary beauty had turned her off anything that felt like flattery, making her disgusted by all the vanity and shallowness of court life. It was a well-known joke in the family that she hated being told she was beautiful.

  But if Lucy was honest, she loved being complimented in such a way, just as she loved the excitement of appearing at a ball in a beautiful gown, knowing s
he would be almost universally admired. And she had been quite enticed by the idea of a position in court, the type of position her mother had been born to but had rejected. It wasn’t that she had learned nothing from her warm-hearted mother—she had always made an effort not to play with anyone’s heart. But that hadn’t been difficult to resist, really. Not when she had been in love with one, and only one, admirer since she was about fourteen.

  And she was back at Eamon. She redirected her thoughts resolutely to the conversation with Cody. She couldn’t help but be amused by the total lack of emotion on the older man’s face as he spoke about romance.

  “If you haven’t been ‘caught’?” Lucy giggled, nudging Cody with an elbow as they walked. “You make it sound like slavery.”

  He grunted. “I know it isn’t always like that,” he acknowledged. “It’s worked out well for your parents, for example. But Jonan did better than most, to land a wife like your mother. Someone who’s more interested in adventure than in the cut of her dress. I mean, half the resistance were in love with her, after all.” He grimaced. “Half the court were as well, but for all the wrong reasons.”

  Lucy gave Cody a long sideways look, a hint of anxiety surfacing in her mind as she surveyed his impassive countenance.

  “Were you ever in love with my mother, Cody?” she asked, trying to make the question sound casual. She had wondered before now, but never had the nerve to ask.

  Cody shot her a look of unaffected astonishment. “Me? In love with Scar?” He made an incredulous noise in his throat. “Of course not. I was still a child when she was running the resistance. Looking back now, I realize just how young and vulnerable she was, but to me she seemed like the most capable of adults. She was a legend to us—almost invincible. And in any event, by the time I was old enough to think about such things, she and Jonan were well and truly married.” He grinned at her. “With a troublesome little nuisance on the way, probably.”