Downfall of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  She turned to Eamon, hardly knowing what to think or how to feel.

  “It’s over,” she said shakily.

  He nodded, reaching a hand toward her. She fell into his arms, resting her head against his chest for a moment, listening as the frantic rhythm of his heart slowed to a more normal pace.

  “Please don’t kiss again,” Matheus said, sounding nauseated. “I don’t think I can take it on top of everything else.”

  Lucy pulled free of Eamon’s arms with a shaky laugh, punching her brother lightly on his uninjured shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  She looked at Eamon, and saw that he was watching Rasad’s body, a strange expression on his face. “I’m sorry I never got the chance to fight him myself. I wanted to make him pay for what he did to you.”

  “What, proposing?” Lucy asked lightly.

  Eamon almost smiled. “No, manipulating you, tying you up, almost certainly planning to kill you eventually.” He paused. “But yes, if I’m honest, also the proposing thing.”

  Lucy chuckled, running a shaking hand down her face.

  “I need to find Joss,” said Eamon tightly, and Lucy’s desire to joke fled completely.

  “And Cody,” she said, with a terse nod.

  The three of them squelched their way toward the splintered gate. The hush of the battlefield outside the city was mirrored within its walls, which Lucy took to be a good sign. She couldn’t hear the clang of metal anywhere, and the flames seemed to have been extinguished by the downpour.

  Somehow, without talking about it, they found themselves heading toward the castle. The steady increase in people seemed to support their guess as to where the action had been centered. Everywhere Lucy looked, she saw dazed Thoranian soldiers, wandering idly or huddled in groups. From what she could see, they still outnumbered the Balenan troops significantly, but there was no more sign of fighting, and they were clearly unsure what to do next.

  The castle courtyard was a bustle of activity, with people buzzing around in spite of the rain, tending to the wounded and patching up the damage caused by the dragons. It didn’t seem as though the castle itself had sustained any serious attack, for which Lucy was glad. The Balenan monarchy didn’t need any more impediments.

  “Joss!” At Eamon’s cry of relief, Lucy’s head whipped around, her eyes picking out her friend in the chaos. Eamon raced forward, and Lucy and Matheus followed close behind.

  Lucy realized when she reached Jocelyn just how exhausted the princess looked. She was pale, and she swayed slightly on her feet as she stepped forward to meet her brother. Kincaid had an arm around her waist, supporting his wife with a slightly anxious look on his face.

  “Are you all right?” Lucy asked, alarmed at Jocelyn’s weakness.

  The other girl smiled at her. “Of course I am. I’ve just tired myself out, that’s all. I’ll be fine once I’ve had a good rest.”

  “It was incredible,” said a new voice, and Lucy turned to see Lord Yosef at her elbow. Other than a long scratch along his jaw, he seemed to be uninjured. “I’ve never seen anything like it. That colorful dragon flew low over the fighters, carrying her like some kind of standard, and it was like there was an invisible ripple following them. Everyone got confused, and most of the soldiers stopped fighting altogether. I think they’re still trying to figure out what hit them.”

  Lucy glanced back at the former combatants, Balenan and Thoranian alike, who were still milling around looking lost. She shook her head slowly. No wonder Jocelyn was exhausted, if she’d used her magic on that many people all at once. It was still a little unnerving just how powerful her best friend could be.

  Eamon was gripping Jocelyn’s shoulder now, seeking further reassurance that she was unharmed. Lucy turned away from them, scanning the crowd anxiously.

  “They’re over there,” Lord Yosef said helpfully, an understanding smile in his voice.

  A huge burden lifted from Lucy’s shoulders as she followed the direction of his pointing finger and saw Cody, standing on the other side of the courtyard with Lady Yasmin. The two of them were deep in conversation with King Giles, all three clearly having escaped any serious injury.

  Lucy and Matheus hurried across the drenched flagstones, reaching the group in time to hear King Giles say, “I will allow your men to tend to their wounded, but the army must cross the border before nightfall tomorrow. I intend to close our border to all other traffic until this mess is straightened out.”

  “I understand, Your Majesty,” said Lady Yasmin quickly. “I will convey your message to King Abner, and I fully expect that he will offer reparations for this regrettable incident.”

  The Balenan king gave the noblewoman a long hard look before responding. “I will not hesitate to respond strongly to any further hint of aggression from Thorania,” he said at last. “But,” his face softened slightly, “you may tell your king that I have no more desire for war than I did before all this began.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing around and noticing the newcomers for the first time. “I’ve seen enough this last day to be willing to consider the possibility that a power beyond King Abner’s authority was responsible for the attack on my kingdom.”

  “You are most gracious, Your Majesty,” said Lady Yasmin, inclining her head deeply. “And I can only beg you once again to believe me when I say that neither my king nor the majority of my countrymen were party to Rasad’s schemes.”

  “I’m pretty sure his guards were,” Lucy chimed in.

  Cody turned quickly at the sound of her voice, his body losing some of its stiffness as his eyes passed over the two siblings. He gave Lucy a weary smile, which she returned. There was no need for words.

  “I got a good look at most of Rasad’s guards,” Lucy continued. “If they can be rounded up, I can help identify them. I imagine King Abner will want to detain them, at the very least.”

  “He may have to borrow your dungeons though, Your Majesty,” cut in Kincaid’s cheerful voice.

  King Giles turned to the Valorian prince, who along with the Kyonan royal siblings, had just joined the group. The king raised a questioning eyebrow, and Jocelyn’s face twisted into an expression that was half grin, half grimace.

  “Elddreki was a little…overenthusiastic in breaking us out of the dungeons at the Thoranian palace. It will be a little while before King Abner can lock anyone else up there, I’m afraid.”

  Lucy shook her head. “It must have been quite the excitement for the people of Thirl, having dragons descend out of nowhere.”

  Kincaid and Jocelyn exchanged a look. “It was pretty eventful, yes,” the prince agreed.

  “So what now?” Lucy asked, sensing rather than seeing that Eamon had drawn up alongside her. Too weary to worry about appearances, she leaned into him gratefully, letting his shoulder take her weight.

  “Now, there’s a great deal of cleaning up to do,” said King Giles grimly. His eyes softened as they passed over the group. “But I owe all of you a great debt of thanks. It seems Kyona is an ally worth having, and I don’t think anyone in my court will dispute that now we’ve seen your dragon allies for ourselves.”

  “We can thank Lucy for their intervention,” said Eamon, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “She’s getting a head start on the duties of a crown princess, showing the other kingdoms how strong we are.”

  Jocelyn raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly between her brother and her best friend. Lucy felt her face heating, but she couldn’t quite restrain a grin as she met her friend’s eye. Jocelyn’s weariness seemed to be forgotten as her whole face glowed. She gave Lucy a piercing look that promised a full inquisition at a later opportunity.

  King Giles’s attention was quickly claimed by someone else. Lady Yasmin and Lord Yosef bent their heads together, clearly discussing the logistics of returning the army to Thorania. Cody’s attention seemed to be fixed on the noblewoman, but when Lucy started to move away, he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “You all right?” he asked soft
ly.

  She nodded, smiling wearily up at him. “You?”

  “Of course,” he said dismissively. His eyes searched her face. “Rasad is dead, yes?”

  Lucy nodded.

  “Your doing?”

  She shook her head. “The dragons, actually. But I handed him to them.”

  Cody nodded, his gaze shrewd. “You didn’t hold back, Lucy. I’m proud of you.”

  Lucy smiled. “You should be. You taught me everything I know.”

  Cody shook his head, the tiniest of smiles on his face as his eyes drifted back toward the Thoranian siblings. “Not everything. You taught me a couple of things.”

  “What are you going to do?” Lucy asked quietly.

  Cody brought his gaze back to her, making no pretense of not understanding her meaning. “I don’t know. We’ll all have to see how things unfold here in the next days and weeks. But when you all sail back to Kyona, I think I’ll return to Thorania, at least for a while.” He gave a rueful smile. “If she’ll let me, that is.”

  Lucy tried to hide her dismay at the thought of losing Cody, but she wasn’t able to entirely mask her surprise. He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere just yet, so don’t think you can get out of training for the rest of the trip.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to get out of training. If you’re going to abandon us for Thorania, I need to get every ounce of knowledge I possibly can out of you before you disappear.”

  Cody chuckled. “Abandoning you, am I?” His expression softened as he searched her face. “I won’t leave until you’re actually on the ship, I promise. You won’t need me during the voyage.” His gaze passed to something over her shoulder. “You’ll have plenty to occupy you, I’m sure.”

  Lucy glanced behind her to see Eamon hovering patiently. The others seemed to have wandered into the castle, probably hoping for a meal and somewhere to rest.

  Lucy smiled up at the prince. His answering smile was more intimate than words. In spite of all the tension and drama of the last few days, that smile still made her heart jump as erratically as it had when she was fourteen.

  “You waited for me.”

  “Of course,” Eamon said. “Always, as long as it takes.”

  Lucy stepped forward, not caring in the least about the curious looks of passersby as she placed her hands on Eamon’s chest.

  “We will have to wait a while, you know,” she said, her tone turning serious. “They’re going to say eighteen is too young for a crown prince to get married. And,” she grimaced, “I’m not even quite eighteen yet. I’m pretty sure my father at least is going to insist we wait until I am before anything is formalized.” She gave a dry chuckle. “He’s going to be less than impressed that I’m coming back engaged after all, when his parting words to me were to forbid anything of the kind.”

  “Firstly,” said Eamon, his eyes dancing with humor as they looked down into hers, “we’ve been friends since before you could walk. Do you really think I don’t know when your birthday is, and exactly how old you are? Secondly, I’m pretty sure I can bring your father around, since I want you to live in Kynton with me, not on the other side of an ocean. And lastly,” his expression warmed, “I already told you, I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

  Lucy smiled up at him, but there was still a hint of anxiety in her voice. “It’s not going to be easy, though, is it? A lot of the court won’t like it.”

  Eamon scoffed. “You think I care about the complaints of a bunch of hen-witted noble girls who are just jealous they’re not half as beautiful, intelligent, or capable as you are?”

  Lucy couldn’t help smirking a little as she thought of Sonia and Vanessa. Let them try swooning over Eamon now, see how that turned out. But she shook her head. “I didn’t mean that, although of course all the girls our age won’t like it.” She sobered as she met his eyes. “I meant the people with real influence in the court. It’s not going to win anyone’s favor that I’m half-Balenan. Or that I’m, you know…” She gestured down at herself, in her mud-splattered, form-fitting training gear, lethal blade hanging at her side.

  “Perfect?” Eamon suggested. She shot him a look, and he became serious again. “I know what you mean, and it won’t be altogether easy. But,” he looked around pointedly, “we’ve handled worse, haven’t we? I have no doubt we can face whatever gets thrown at us, as long as we face it together.” He tangled one of his hands through her hair. “I would fight much more formidable enemies than stuffy courtiers in order to be with you, Lucy.”

  “Yes.” Lucy ducked her head to hide her smile. “You’ve proved that, I think.”

  “And I’ll keep proving it,” said Eamon, touching her chin gently so she looked back up at him. “Don’t worry about the influence of the critics, Lucy. No one has more influence in the Kyonan court than my parents, and I know they’ll be completely behind us, so we’re sure to win in the end. Besides,” he grinned roguishly, “I’m not above using my power to win over the more fastidious if necessary.”

  Lucy laughed, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “Then I don’t see how we can lose.”

  It was some time before Lucy found herself alone in a guest suite. She’d finally eaten a solid meal, and she was more than ready for sleep. But she was still so filthy, she couldn’t rest without washing first. It was as she began to undress that she discovered Haydn’s journal. She’d forgotten all about it, but she vaguely remembered putting it in her pocket before answering the door to the overly observant serving girl, back in her suite at Rasad’s Bastion.

  She clutched the slim book for a moment, surprised by the rush of emotion it brought on. None of her other belongings had made it back to Balenol with her, but it seemed fitting that this journal had returned to its origin, somehow.

  She didn’t intend to read through it, she just flicked the pages idly as she went to put it down. But a short paragraph caught her eye, alone toward the back of the journal, several blank pages separating it from what she had believed to be the last entry. She peered at the page in confusion, sure the handwriting looked different from the rest of the records.

  This is the journal of my ancestor, handed down in my family as a precious treasure.

  His history is my history, not least because it’s thanks to him that even after generations, everyone in our nomad community learns from childhood how to read and write.

  It comforts me to know that, as hard as this life is, even as nomads we build our successes on the backs of those who came before. We are his legacy, and I hope he would be proud.

  - Raldo

  Lucy’s breath caught in her throat at the name, so familiar to her although she had never met the owner in person. Haydn was Raldo’s ancestor? It made sense—why else would the journal have been in Raldo’s section of the base tree?

  She pressed the book to her heart, doubly glad it had survived. It would be precious to her mother, she knew, as well as to many others in Raldon.

  She read again what the former rebel had said about his ancestor’s legacy. Thinking of Isidore’s choices—the way she’d abandoned herself to her bitterness where Haydn had chosen to move forward—she could only grieve for the legacy the noblewoman had left. The evil in Rasad’s heart had grown from seeds planted a long time ago, and innocent lives had been lost today as a result.

  Surely Haydn would have been proud of a descendant like Raldo. Lucy hoped Raldo himself would be proud of his own legacy, the strong and vibrant community that now bore his name.

  Lucy could only be more grateful than ever that she hadn’t gone any further down Isidore’s path herself. Her own lapse in judgment in her dealings with Eamon was more than worth it, because it had showed her the hypocrisy of her bitterness toward him.

  Haydn had forgiven much worse crimes than Lucy had ever suffered, and she vowed to let his example keep her accountable. Like her, he was a product of both Kyona and Balenol, their good and their bad.

  Lucy looked out the window at the rai
n still falling steadily on the harsh gray stone of the city. She’d helped to save this kingdom from annihilation today, and she was glad. It was part of who she was, brutal history and all, and she no longer had any desire to disown it.

  After all, knowing who she was, and embracing it, was something she couldn’t put a price on. It was something the exalted position she was about to assume could neither give her nor take away from her.

  And she would never let herself forget it.

  Epilogue

  Lucy took a deep breath, running her hands over her skirts one last time.

  “You do know your dress is just as perfectly smooth as it was when you did that two minutes ago, don’t you?” Eamon asked humorously.

  “As a matter of fact,” she said wryly, “I do.”

  He grinned. “Are you ready?”

  Lucy drew another deep breath. “Absolutely, and not at all.”

  Eamon chuckled, leaning close. Lucy’s hair was elaborately styled, but she couldn’t bring herself to remind him of that as he laid his head against hers. “You’re perfect, Lucy, and you’re more than ready for this.”

  She raised her face to his. Glancing quickly around to make sure they were still alone in the antechamber—except for his ever-present guards, of course—Eamon pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

  “You don’t seem nervous,” Lucy said ruefully, and Eamon chuckled again.

  “Why would I be nervous? I finally get to formalize my betrothal to the woman of my dreams. I can stop worrying someone else is going to cut me out.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Because you’ve been so nervous about that.”

  Eamon smiled down at her. “Not nervous, exactly,” he admitted. “But it has been the longest six months of my life.” He cocked his head to the side. “Actually, the months before it, when you hated me, felt pretty long.”