Alara's Curse

by S. L. Perrine

  “Does he live?” Landon asked this of the driver every month he showed without his father in tow.

  The driver nodded and extended his hand out to the prince.

  “When he does not, you will come to fetch me?”

  “Yes, young prince. Your father, the king, has decreed it of me. It will be my final task under his employ.” The man lowered his head, his eyes held to the rubble of the road. “But you know you must stay in hiding until your brother’s coronation?”

  “Yes, I know.” Landon hated the idea of being at his father’s funeral in hiding, but it was their agreement. “Bring the food to the house, if you please.” The prince remembered his manners. His father spent fifteen years teaching him to be polite. He did well to remember that. Lest he forget, the sisters would surely remind him. The younger sisters were not the only ones who felt the sting of Grella’s slap.

  “Yes, Your Highness.” The man whipped the ox again. The tip of the leather hit home between the shoulders of the massive beast.

  Landon stood still, contemplating the letter the man handed him as he drove off. Finally, needing to see what was inside, he tore it open. The wax seal of his father’s crown fell to the stones at his feet, and he read:

  My Son,

  I hope this letter finds you well. I am saddened that I may not accompany your gifts this year. Unfortunately, your mother’s poison has done its job well.

  She appears happy enough to be the mother of the king. Not that she realizes it, but I have my spies around the palace who tell me she is quietly planning my funeral alongside your brother’s coronation. I suppose I got it right all along.

  Soon the wagon will come back for you. I suspect within the week. Prepare yourself for your return to your brother’s side. He will need you during this time. You will need each other.

  Your gift is not in the wagon. My gift this year is truth. I am speaking with your brother this evening about you. He will know to expect you when I am gone. I just hope keeping you both separated for all these years will not prevent you from being as close as I had once hoped you’d be.

  Be safe, my son. My prince.

  Your father and king, Tomas Basile

  Landon read it twice before he made it back to the house. He’d gotten his father’s meaning. He was dying. He didn’t expect to last the week. So, he told his brother where he was. The search could be put to an end. Finally, he’d be able to go home.

  The cost was high, but he knew it would come to this. Just as the king knew. They’d spoken of it only the once and vowed never to bring it up again. It’d been too long since he’d wondered when he’d be able to return, if only to keep from thinking of his father’s death.

  A PIN could have dropped in the corridor to the tower, and everyone would have heard it, even with the doors to the room closed. The balcony entrance was shut tight, as well as the drapes, to block the sun from the room.

  “The light will hurt her eyes.” Cedric moved to keep Gretchen from pulling them open.

  “So, will our voices hurt her ears?” she asked sarcastically.

  The questions roamed around the room between the three of them for two hours, then they sat in silence. The only sign the queen had, in fact, opened her eyes and screamed was the slight moves she made every now and then in her sleep. Real sleep.

  Gretchen moved to her right side. The prince stayed on the left. He hadn’t moved since her head hit back down on the pillow.

  He sent Cedric to inform his father; to have him hold on. To stay with them, for he may get to say goodbye. He was tempted to have Cedric carry him to her room and set him in the bed beside her, then he thought better of it. She might be the love of the king’s life, but she hadn’t seen what time and illness had done to his body. He was hardly recognizable anymore. She needed an explanation before she saw him.

  Instead, Declan stayed by her side so she might think she saw his father when she woke. It might help her to know she still resided in the palace. He would be sure to make her understand who he was once he could determine her state of mind.

  The sheets rustled under her once more, and Gretchen jumped. She closed her eyes, her hand going to her chest as if she tried to slow the rapid beating of her heart. “This is so hard. How do we know the curse is broken? What if this is just her new state?”

  Declan didn’t take his eyes off the queen as he spoke. “It’s not.”

  “We know because she opened her eyes. Because she moves in her sleep. She’s never done that before,” Cedric pointed out.

  Declan could see he’d grown to care for Alara over the years. It was his job, ingrained into him from the start, by the king himself to protect her. Now he was more eager to have her wake more than anyone, Gretchen as well. They had been a two-man crew, caring for the queen since before Declan’s birth.

  “There,” Declan said, pointing to Alara. Her arms raised to her face. “Shush, you two. She’s waking.”

  When she opened her eyes for the second time that day, Declan felt as though his heart had stopped.

  She remembered what was said of the boys and their features; how he must be feeling seeing the green of her eyes. Much like his own, as green as emerald. So, he now knew the truth of the rumors. The boys were both born with her eyes. Neither of them had Talia’s brown eyes or the king’s blue. Both were the color of Alara’s, just as his father had told him.

  “Declan?” Her voice was scratchy, and she could barely get out the one word, but she did.

  “Gretchen, water for the queen,” he said with pride. “Yes, Your Majesty.” Declan moved from the bed. “You know of me?”

  To this, she could only nod and blink her eyes closed. Declan wanted to yell at her to keep them open. To never close them again, but he refrained. The injured hand laid across her midsection. She raised her index finger to inspect it, then looked at Declan, since he was the only one in her field of vision. The look of astonishment showed across her face at the hole in her finger where the wood had been.

  “Yes. It seems the one thing that kept you asleep these twenty years was a splinter from the spindle you pricked it on.” He glanced at Cedric. “Please, Cedric, bring my father here. Tell no one. Least of all my mother.”

  Cedric clapped his heels together and bowed. “Yes, Highness.” He walked past the prince and stopped for a moment to look back at Alara, Declan thought, so he could see the green of her eyes as well. He sighed, in what seemed like relief, and bowed. “Your Majesty, it’s great to have you back with us.” She answered him with a smile that reached all the way to her eyes.

  “Here, Majesty. Some water for you.” Gretchen tried to hand the water to Alara, but Declan quickly realized one thing never occurred to them. She would be weak for some time since her muscles had not been in use. So, as she tried to lift her arm, it only moved enough to graze her thigh.

  Declan stood, placing a hand behind her head as Gretchen brought the glass to the queen’s lips. She drank the glass down in one gulp. “More. Please,” she managed.

  “Of course, Majesty.” Gretchen smiled and curtsied before running off for more water.

  “Landon?” Alara asked Declan once they were alone, her throat scratchy, and her voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

  “Not yet, Majesty.” Declan let his head drop. He felt it was his responsibility to bring his brother home, and he failed. “How…?”

  “Do I know?” She finished his question, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

  Her throat burned, but she needed to hear her words if only to convince herself she had awakened.

  So, she fought to speak, squeaking when her dry throat complained. She explained what she had endured. She told him of the things she felt from the people who had visited her room; about the darkness and the sunlight, the voices, the hate, and animosity. As well as the love and regret. “It is not your fault he was taken. You and he were babies. Now, we can find him together.”

  “I may be able to help with that,” Tomas said while be
ing wheeled into her room. “Alara, my love. You haven’t aged a day.” His eyes widened in surprise as if he thought upon waking, the rest of her would catch up.

  “Oh, how I’ve missed that face,” she moved her head to look to her side as he was pushed closer.

  “This face? No, this was never the face you saw. This is the face of an ashamed old man on his deathbed.” His breath waned, and he broke out into a fit of coughs, then he held up a hand. “I’m fine. I need to tell you before this body gives out on me. I never said before because I was ashamed.” He wheezed, and Cedric leaned down to help him sip on a glass of water.

  “Tomas?” Alara asked, her voice raspy.

  “No, Alara. I must tell you. She had him taken. Had him kidnapped. Taken to Vlora.” Tomas fought for breath.

  “Father? Vlora? We’ve never searched there. You said it was nothing but rubble.” Declan regarded his father, anger building in him.

  “I did it to keep you all safe. Including Landon. She’d have killed us all. Don’t you get it, son?” He sipped from the glass again. “She only wants power. That is the only thing that means anything to her. Through you, she will have that power.” Alara saw the tears building in old eyes. The bright blue of the ocean still filled them. He was still the man she loved, but now she would lose him all over again. She felt her breath catch in her throat.

  “No, don’t cry for me.” He heaved in a breath. “I did this. If I weren’t so desperate to get you back”—another heave of his chest— “to have you and Landon back, she wouldn’t be in our lives.”

  “Yes, but you wouldn’t have Declan. I don’t believe this is all your fault.” Alara looked at Gretchen and Cedric for help. “Sit me up, please.”

  Declan moved to one side of the queen and helped Cedric hoist her up against the headboard. “How’s that, Majesty?”

  “It’s fine, Cedric. Thank you.” She took a few breaths and went back to addressing her husband. “She is the one who cursed me. I heard her say so. All of this happened because of her, not you.” She considered the words she spoke, and who she said it in front of. “I’m sorry, young prince. I really am. To be speaking ill of your mother in front of you. However, she’s taken far too much from me already. If I have but a few moments with your father, he needs to leave us knowing this was not his doing.”

  Tomas gazed up at Alara. The tears he’d been holding back flowed down his face.

  “You also need to know; his fate is her doing. She’s been poisoning him since your brother’s disappearance.”

  “She’s done what?” Declan asked, bewildered. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and his father.

  Alara fought her body to move her hand. “Take joy in knowing your father cares for you more than life itself.” She said with a hand holding his cheek. “I care for you as well.”

  Declan found he could not speak. His breath hitched, and a sob caught in his throat. He stood and moved from the bed, turning his back to them.

  Alara glanced between Tomas and his son. Declan was the spitting image of the man she had married. Except for the eyes. Over the years, the many times he had visited her and spoke with his father in her presence, she had gotten to know him for who he was. So, what she told him then was very sincere. She did care for him as if he were her very own son.

  “I don’t want to say goodbye to you. Not again.” Tomas fumbled forward to grab her hand.

  “At least this time we get to say goodbye.” She caressed his face with the other. “I love you. I never stopped. I heard every word. All of it. Everything you ever said to me. Thank you for seeing our son born. For being here for him. Now that we know where he is, we can go get him. The four of us will be together.”

  Declan didn’t move. He only asked, “The four?”

  “We are a family, Declan. I care for you as much as I care for your brother. Surely, that is how it should be after all.” Alara tried to make him see.

  “But, my mother… What she’s done.” He sounded on the verge of tears.

  “Children can’t be blamed for their parents’ wrongdoing.” She tried to grab his hand but fell short of the mark. Her hand landed with a thump against the bed.

  “Majesties.” Cedric moved forward. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to get Her Majesty out of the palace.”

  “No. I won’t cower away from Talia,” Alara protested.

  “Darling, you must. If she’s gone to such lengths to get rid of me, there is no stopping her. It’s a wonder she didn’t kill you the first time. She won’t use a curse the next time,” Tomas pleaded, but Alara was convinced she would not run.

  She would get her son and see him sit on the throne in his father’s absence.

  Before she could tell him as much, Declan spoke, “Landon is the true heir. He will have the throne. She will not.” All eyes were on him. “Her Majesty will not hide. She will be protected by her guards and her people. My brother will ascend to the throne, and I will help him in any way that I can.”

  Then a sound of confusion erupted from outside the palace walls. Horses ran loose through the grounds. Stable hands tried to get to them. The commotion reached into the village beyond the palace grounds.

  Declan pulled at the drapes and opened the balcony doors. “What’s going on out there?”

  A young stablehand, no more than fifteen, stopped running after a mare. He bowed and turned up his face, using a hand to block the sun from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. Your mother took a horse from the stable. She left the barn doors open, sire. All of the other stalls were propped open as well.”

  Declan looked back into the room. “Mother’s fled the palace.”

  “Declan, come help me up.” Alara pulled at the bottom of her blue gown.

  “Wait, Majesty, is this a good idea?” Cedric grabbed her arm to support her as she tried to push her legs.

  “Yes, now.” She insisted, still trying to move her legs to the side of the bed.

  “Darling, surely this can wait.” Tomas worried for her health, put his own ills out of his mind, and stood with her.

  “Tomas, I have to do this. Now, you can help me or sit back down.” She used all her strength to hold onto the prince and her guard. “Bring me to the balcony.” She told them when she had her bearings.

  Alara grabbed the door and held on as the king positioned himself next to her. Cedric held the king on his feet. Declan did the same for the queen, although she was much better on her feet than any of them expected. Cedric kept Tomas from exiting onto the balcony but his eyes never left his wife even from within the room.

  “You, boy!” Alara yelled down to the stable boy.

  The boy blocked his eyes again and fell to his knees. He shouted at those nearby. “She’s awoken!”

  “Boy, what way did the queen consort go?” Alara asked him.

  “Sorry, Your Majesty.” He bowed his head. “She went that way.” The boy pointed north.

  Alara turned to the king, lowering her voice so no one below could hear her. “Tomas. She’s going after Landon. She must have heard us.”

  If Talia had gone north, then she would ride for the ruins of Vlora.

  THERE was nothing she could do. No way for her to get to her son before Talia did. So, Alara spent what time she needed strengthening her body and sitting with Tomas.

  He became worse by the day. Having realized too late that poison was the reason, the damage had already been done. Without the healers of the kingdom freely available, he had nothing to do but wait.

  Alara noted the number of visits Declan made to see his father each day. She could see the admiration he held for the king. She could also see the sadness and fear nestled in his eyes. As death drew nearer, the seat on the throne did as well.

  She found him in the throne room one evening. He stood so far from the dais that she had to wonder if he thought about being on the throne himself or remembering something of his father.

  Since he had only known her for such a short time, she opted to leave
him with his thoughts. Not wanting to intrude, she turned from the open door and continued down the hall.

  “This is where I stand,” he called to her.

  “I’m sorry?” She circled back to the open door.

  The prince leaned his shoulder against a pillar just inside the room, his back to her. He stood on one foot and crossed the ankle of the other in front of it.

  His casual look made her feel stiff. She loosened her shoulders some before entering the throne room behind him.

  “When I was a kid. Before, my father let me stand beside him. This is where I stood.”

  She looked sidelong at him.

  His hands crossed against his chest. With his shoulders slumped and staring at the ground before him, he could have passed for a commoner taking a snooze outside of the local pub.

  “He said he would never make his children stand up there, as his father made him. You must have shown interest for him to bring you in here at all.” She recalled the memory of such a conversation; one Tomas had insisted on having after an argument ensued between him and his late father.

  Tomas had spent many days traveling to the local villages to see to the people, just so he didn’t have to spend hours standing by his father’s side, listening to the tiring complaints of the same people. He wanted to see the troubles firsthand.

  “Our children will not be subjected to listening to old men complain about who did what on whose property,” he had yelled in their private chambers, afterward.

  Alara moved her hand to her heart as she recalled the way he’d come to terms with what his father had made him endure.

  “Yes, he said as much,” Declan confirmed. “Still, I wanted to be up there with him. It made me feel like an integral part of it all.” He smiled briefly, then remembering himself, he pulled away from the pillar and straightened his jacket. He bowed to the queen and clapped his heels together. “Your Majesty, I think I will go sit with him for a while before I turn in.”