A Cursed Kiss (Myths of Airren Book 1)

by Jenny Hickman

  “You and Rían missed my birthday last month,” she sniffed, brushing a careless hand down the feathers on her cape. Black eyes met mine, and a slow smile spread across her lips. “But I suppose the pretty present you brought me makes up for it. Come out here, girl. Let me get a look at you.”

  Tadhg’s shoulders stiffened.

  I had no plan to comply, but something cold slithered up my legs. Black roots wrapped around my ankles, my calves, my knees, pulling me forward.

  “I’ll pay twice next time,” Tadhg snapped, his hands flexing at his sides. Magic leaked out of him like glittering shadows.

  “That’s not the way this works, Tadhg,” the Queen crooned, urging her mount forward to meet me. “Such a pretty little thing you are. My dear nephew knows better than to try and smuggle humans into Tearmann.”

  Tadhg’s magic swirled around his legs, fluttering his overcoat.

  The Queen’s cold hand caught my chin, forcing me to look at her. Webs of black veins spread beneath her paper-thin, wrinkled skin. “Do you know the penalty for being caught crossing the Black Forest without my permission, girl?”

  My voice was gone, so I shook my head.

  “One life.” The Queen’s eyes flashed as she withdrew a dagger from beneath her feathered cloak. Bloodred raindrops rolled down the gleaming silver blade.

  Tadhg appeared beside me, knocking the Queen’s dagger to the ground.

  Her eyes narrowed into slits. “You arrogant little—”

  “Oh, be quiet, you old crow.” Tadhg turned his back on her, took my hand, and brought my knuckles to his cursed mouth.

  The blackness had been there all along, yet seeing it crawling along his lips made me want to pull away.

  As if he’d heard my thoughts, Tadhg winced. Instead of kissing them, he gave my fingers a squeeze and let go. “It’s been a pleasure being your husband,” he whispered, face still shifting and lips lifting into a sad smile.

  Before I could respond, he let me go and turned toward the Queen. “Make it quick. She’s in a bit of a hurry.”

  The Queen’s mouth twisted into a deranged smile. She shifted the dagger back into her hand, bent forward to whisper something into Tadhg’s ear . . . and plunged the dagger into his heart.

  “No!” I lunged, catching Tadhg’s body before he fell; his dead weight pulled us both down into the writhing dirt. The shifting stopped, and all that was left was Tadhg. The life in his green eyes faded to black. Hot, sticky blood gushed from the wound in his chest, staining my hands. My dress. My soul.

  The Queen inhaled a hissing breath through her teeth. The wrinkles on her forehead smoothed, and the hard lines around her mouth softened.

  Tadhg was immortal.

  He would be back.

  But would it be in time to save me?

  “Again,” the Queen cackled, motioning toward me.

  One of the soldiers jabbed his sword into the ground, summoning a well of black tar from beneath the surface. He climbed off his horse and strode toward me with purpose.

  “No.” A whisper. A plea. One life. That was the penalty. She’d said one life. “No . . . Please . . .”

  The soldier leaned forward, dagger in hand.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for a quick death. The weight of Tadhg against me vanished. The guard had him by the ankle, tugging him toward the river. He stopped, knelt, raised the dagger over his head, and let it fall. Over and over and over.

  A terrible cackle shuddered through the bare black branches. “That bastard’s harder to kill than I am,” the Queen said between harsh inhales.

  Tears tumbled down my cheeks as the guard replaced his bloody dagger in its sheath and resumed dragging Tadhg to the river. Tadhg’s head bounced across the black ground, arms akimbo, flailing over the roots and stones and bones.

  When the guard reached the river, he kicked Tadhg’s body into the water.

  The Queen smiled at me, the face of a young, beautiful woman where the old crone had been only moments ago, and said, “Welcome to Tearmann.”

  30

  Tadhg is coming back.

  Tadhg is coming back.

  Those four words clanged through my mind over and over and over as the icy water from the black river slapped my torso. I floated Tadhg’s body to the opposite shore. The rain stopped the moment I reached the silty sand.

  I didn’t know how long it would take, but I knew he’d come back, because there was no way he’d sacrifice himself for me if he couldn’t. I slipped my arms beneath Tadhg’s and managed to drag him through the sand to a patch of glowing grass before collapsing.

  He is coming back.

  No matter how many times I said it, the tears kept falling, burning my eyes. Although his face no longer shifted, the black curse on his mouth remained. I touched a finger to his lips. The blackness tried to climb onto my skin, but the green aura of the ring fought to keep it at bay.

  My stomach lurched at the thought of where his mouth had touched my body. I grabbed the sopping hem of my dress and scrubbed the last of the kohl from my eyes. It was Tadhg lying beside me. Just Tadhg. My husband—

  Wait.

  I twisted the emerald from my finger. The black band was gone. Not my husband. Not anymore.

  What was left of my heart turned to dust. I should have been happy to have my freedom back, but I was bloody miserable. It wasn’t until this moment, with him lying dead in my arms and our vows broken, that I realized how much I wanted to stay married to Tadhg.

  “What the hell have you done to my brother?”

  I whirled to find a man with short-cropped mahogany hair looming above me, bracing his hands on his slim hips. His dark eyebrows slashed angrily above stunning blue eyes. The cravat at his throat was perfectly tied, and his black waistcoat threaded with silver stood out in contrast to his pristine white shirt.

  Brother.

  This must be Rían.

  And he thought I’d killed Tadhg.

  Stumbling to my feet, I shoved my hair back from my sticky cheeks. Rían’s gaze dropped to the bloodstains across my chest, then returned to my face.

  “I didn’t kill him,” I said, my voice trembling and stomach twisting. “I swear, it wasn’t me.”

  Rían’s eyebrows flicked up, and his eyes narrowed. “I’m not talking about killing him,” he grumbled. “What I meant was you turning the poor man into a simpering eejit who’s forgotten his duty is to his people and not some foolish human girl with chronic bad luck.”

  Chronic bad luck.

  My life was plagued by more than bad luck. Ever since Aveen had kissed the Gancanagh, death and danger had become my shadows, refusing to let me have one day of peace.

  “I didn’t turn Tadhg into anything.”

  Rían’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Yes, you did. And since he’s been neglecting his duties to play the doting courtier, they’ve all fallen on my shoulders. And I do not appreciate it one bit.”

  “That sounds like something you need to discuss with Tadhg,” I clipped, glancing down at his body. His face still held no color; his eyes were still black.

  Rían’s teeth flashed when he grinned. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. There was something about him that set me on edge.

  “When is Tadhg coming back?” I rushed.

  Rían squatted next to his brother to check the wounds littered across his chest. They were still red and angry but beginning to close at the edges. “Feckin’ hell. How many times did she stab you?” he muttered to Tadhg’s body.

  Rían withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket to clean the dirt from his hand. His nose wrinkled at the blood and dirt stains on the previously white fabric. Instead of returning it to his pocket, he tucked it into Tadhg’s. “He should be back in an hour or so, depending on how much of his magic was left.”

  What was it about him that made me want to run in the opposite direction?

  Using a twig he found on the ground, he opened Tadhg’s shirt to check the wounds again. Some of the redness had subsi
ded, and his skin was almost fully closed. “You’d think he’d know better than to antagonize her. But he just can’t keep his gob shut.” He tossed the stick over his shoulder. “Can you grab his arm there?” Rían gestured toward Tadhg’s twisted limb. “I don’t really feel like getting blood and grime all over my new shirt.”

  I took Tadhg’s cold hand, and together, we hauled him farther into the grass, to the forest of healthy trees. Rían’s boot caught on a stone, and he fell onto his backside in the dirt. A torrent of profanity flew from his mouth as he scrubbed at the stains on his fine black breeches. When he kicked Tadhg’s slumped body, I shoved him into a tree. “Don’t touch him!”

  “Look what he did!” Rían swore again as he twisted to show me his backside. “These are from the feckin’ continent.”

  “This isn’t Tadhg’s fault. He’s dead, remember?”

  “Oh, my dear Keelynn, you’ll soon come to find that everything is Tadhg’s fault.” Rían tugged on the ends of his waistcoat and smoothed a hand to fix his perfect hair. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to get this irritating bastard to the castle.” Rían’s nose wrinkled when he laced their fingers together, and then they both vanished.

  I scrubbed a hand down my sodden skirts in a useless attempt to rid myself of sand and grime, then squeezed out the excess moisture making them cling to my freezing legs. I didn’t know what I had expected from Tadhg’s brother, but it certainly hadn’t been that.

  “Here.” Rían was back with an armful of women’s clothes. “Put these on. The last thing I need is to be seen with a human in such a horrendous state.” He said it like I didn’t already know how terrible I looked.

  “Turn around and give me some privacy,” I snapped, wishing he weren’t Tadhg’s brother and my only guide so I could slap the smug smile off his face.

  Rían snorted and sauntered toward a big tree. Once he was hidden from view, I peeled myself out of the dress, stay, and shift, and changed into the soft gray gown. Instead of putting my cloak back on, I balled up the rest of my garments inside.

  “Are you finished yet?” Rían whined.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He appeared from around the trunk, took the bundle from me, and flicked his wrist, sending it heaven-knows-where. “Let’s get a move on. I don’t have all feckin’ day.”

  I followed Rían through a forest that looked like it was in the height of spring instead of the start of autumn, with colorful buds and bees buzzing to and fro. Plump, vibrant birds flew overhead, singing happy tunes. The forest ended at the edge of a green field dotted with tiny cottages. Each cottage had a wooden fence, a small garden, and at least one fruit tree growing in the yard.

  A wrinkled grogoch knelt in one of the gardens, his hairy hands covered in dark soil as he pulled carrots from the ground. When he noticed us, his beady eyes widened. He continued watching until we passed.

  A few cottages down the road, a gorgeous woman with flowing orange hair balanced a baby on her hip while hanging laundry on a clothesline. She gave us the same odd look. Rían grumbled and kept walking.

  The fields gave way to steep cliffs, with waves battering against the high stone walls in a never-ending battle. In the distance rose a magnificent castle, the same shade of gray as the craggy boulders at its base, like it had grown from the rock itself.

  Never in my life had I seen a place as breathtaking or as imposing. This was where Tadhg had grown up? This beautiful place full of sunlight and serenity? Why would anyone ever want to venture into Airren when they could live here?

  I had only ever been in one castle, and it had been damp and dank, and smelled of mildew and age and decay from disuse. But the Gancanagh’s castle was a timeless testament to its architect and its owner, a towering fortress with slits for windows and guard-topped turrets.

  The barbican jutted out on either side of the gates, creating a narrow passageway to the keep’s main entrance. An aged black portcullis had been left open, lulling unsuspecting visitors into a sense of ease. Ease that quickly dissipated with one glance at the five murder holes carved into the ceiling. Sunlight, not boiling oil, fell through, crowning Rían’s mahogany hair when he passed beneath them, a reminder that he was also a prince here.

  A strange sensation came over me, like I was walking through cobwebs.

  I scrubbed at my face and arms, but there was nothing there.

  “It’s the wards,” Rían explained in an exasperated voice.

  Wards to keep out unwanted intruders. If I had tried to enter without an escort, would I have been able to? I’d have to ask Tadhg later, because I sure as hell wasn’t asking Rían.

  The area between the outer wall and main castle bustled with Danú. Two grogoch pushed wheelbarrows of unnaturally large red apples. A pooka lounging on a bench had one arm wrapped around the barrel at his side and the other around a human-sized faerie.

  A sharp-toothed merrow sunned herself on the edge of a wide fountain, her beautiful sea-colored face upturned toward the sun. The green scales starting below her navel glistened. I could have stood there all day studying her ethereal beauty.

  Rían didn’t bother acknowledging any of the Danú we passed on our way to the castle’s arched green door. The moment his foot hit the first step, the door swung open, and a hairy red head popped out.

  “Good to see yer back, Prince Rían,” the grogoch said, his voice little more than a wheeze. “There’s quite a line today.”

  Rían groaned and turned to glare at me over his shoulder. “This is your fault, you know.”

  “My fault?” How could anything be my fault? I had only just arrived.

  Instead of explaining, Rían thanked the grogoch and waved me inside. The grogoch bowed his head as we passed.

  The ancient scent inside the castle reminded me of the cathedral in Gaul. Instead of echoing, our footsteps soaked into the stones, becoming forever etched into the unforgiving gray. We passed a wide, round oak table decorated with a crystal vase of stunning blue flowers. Tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes from the stories Tadhg had told to the faeries.

  The one with banshees circling the gray sky above a corpse-strewn battlefield was by far the most gruesome. I recognized the Phantom Queen, wearing black armor and her beak-like crown, eyes closed, and beautifully terrifying face upturned as if in the throes of passion. Her chin dripped with blood as she cradled two severed heads.

  “I’ve told him to burn these rags time and again, but Tadhg always refuses,” Rían said, stopping outside a set of wide double doors. It sounded like a large group of people waited on the other side. Rían raked a hand through his short hair and swore. “I don’t want you snooping around the place, so I’m going to let you come inside. But don’t say a word.” Unnerving blue eyes bore into mine. Again, that prickle of unease tickled against my stomach. Rían quickly looked away.

  Go in. Keep silent. I could do that.

  Rían shoved open the doors, and I held my breath. Danú of all kinds milled about a great hall with thick wooden beams across the vaulted ceiling. When they heard the doors open, they all turned to face us.

  I kept my head down and followed Rían to a raised dais with a large wooden throne and a smaller chair to its right. “Stand over there,” he said, gesturing to a spot next to the smaller chair. I waited and watched as the crowd formed an orderly line. At the front stood a plump woman with pointed ears and a bulbous nose.

  “Where’s Prince Tadhg?” she asked, her deep-set brown eyes narrowing on Rían.

  “He’s indisposed at the moment,” Rían said, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Ye promised Tadhg would be here.” The woman planted her fists on her wide hips and stomped up a step. “I’ve been tryin’ to meet with ‘im fer two feckin’ weeks.”

  “And it looks as though you’ll have to wait a little while longer, now doesn’t it?” Rían said through his teeth. “Unless there is something I can do for you.”
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  “I wouldn’t trust ye with my feckin’ laundry, let alone my land.”

  “So you’ve a border dispute?”

  She lifted her chin and turned for the door. A handful of other people glared toward the dais before following her out.

  “If anyone else takes issue with speaking to me in my brother’s stead, you may as well leave now and save us all some time.” Rían’s announcement cut the crowd in half. The ones who left grumbled on their way out the door.

  No wonder Rían didn’t like me.

  Tadhg was the rightful ruler of Tearmann, and if it weren’t for me, he would be here doing his job instead of being held up in the underworld.

  The next person in line had a chicken beneath his skinny brown arm. “Was hopin’ to see yer brother, but since I came all this way, I may as well give it to ye.” He held the chicken toward Rían. “Nettie here is my best hen. She’s worth twice as much as I owe in taxes this year.”

  Rían’s nose wrinkled, and he shirked away from the offering. “Oscar!” he shouted. The grogoch from the door hurried in, collected the chicken, thanked the man, and brought the offering out into the hallway.

  Next in line were three small faeries, all of them with varying shades of blue hair. They flew forward, landing on the bottom step of the dais.

  “You’re going to have to come closer than that,” Rían said, rolling his eyes. “I cannot hear you from down there.”

  “Apologies for being late,” a familiar voice echoed through the hall. My breath caught in my throat when Tadhg strolled in, looking resplendent in a black waistcoat and breeches with a dark green cravat draped around his open collar like a scarf. “I was unfortunately detained for longer than expected.”

  “Oh, thank heavens,” Rían muttered under his breath, flicking his wrist and appearing in the smaller chair.

  Tadhg’s long legs made short work of the distance, and he took the steps two at a time. He gave me a wink and a crooked grin that left my stomach fluttering, then twisted and sank onto the throne. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? Muire, Lena, Sorcha, what seems to be the problem?”