Alara's Curse

by S. L. Perrine

  Scarlett walked towards them. She swung her blade back and forth in front of her like a propeller. With each swing of her arm, the metal glowed.

  First, it was just close to the hilt, then it spread bright and true, all the way to the tip. It was curved in the middle, wide at the bend with etchings of words and a picture of a wolf in the metal near the handle.

  Her eyes glowed yellow as she swiped her blade at one of the men. Slicing his abdomen open, his entrails spilled onto the ground before the man fell.

  Alara flinched. She forgot herself until Cedric reached down for her. He tucked her under one arm while his sword stabbed at the flesh of another man who’d tried to reach her.

  Landon stood on the other side of her, also brandishing a sword; long and sleek.

  The hilt was completely black, and a single red, teardrop-shaped ruby rested in the handle. At rest, the metal remained dark as coal, but when Landon swung it, the blade pulsed red.

  It was a sword Alara remembered from her stolen life.

  Alara regained herself for a moment. Placing two fingers in her mouth, she blew hard. The whistle did the job. Turning the horses around to a halt, she shrugged Cedric off her and drew her own weapon; a family heirloom passed down from generation to generation.

  She’d found it hanging in her room when she’d woken. Someone had taken special care to make sure the metal didn’t tarnish. It looked as good as when her father handed it to her on her wedding day.

  The hilt was made with a particular metal, forged in the fires of Ikrith by the eldest sorcerer in the land; Iren. Four emeralds had been cut into squares and placed together, forming a king’s cross. Diamonds lined the hilt where it met blade. The etchings ran down, much like Scarlett’s, but there was no wolf. Just flame.

  When she brandished the blade in front of her attackers, she thought she saw them hesitate. “You know who I am?” She watched as the three of them nodded.

  The largest one stepped forward. “I’d care a little more about it if I thought you knew how to use that thing, little girl.”

  “Well, then I guess it’s time I remembered my lessons.” She held it with two hands, still not sure of her strength. The men laughed at her and lunged.

  She sidestepped the first one as he came forward, using his weight and height as a weapon alone. Alara swung the blade up with both hands. She missed, and the weight of the sword sent her to the ground.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Declan asked while fighting off two of the men. His sword lay on the ground several feet away.

  The man barreled past Alara when she bent with the weight of her weapon. She picked it up and turned on her heel.

  The other two were content to stop fighting so they could laugh at her. She let the tip of the blade rest on the ground, holding it with one hand.

  “Come on, little girl. Pick up your bat,” the man goaded her, his voice thick and gnarled.

  She raised her shoulders, squared her feet, remembering what her father told her. When he lunged for her again, she lifted her blade from the ground and swung with all the strength she had in her.

  The sword flamed red like her hair and sliced his head from his shoulders. She spun around, and the hem of her dress lifted with the cold air engulfing her as she moved. Her blade still aflame, she swung at the two behind her. They were so stunned, she relieved them of their heads before they attempted to move.

  Alara placed her other hand on the hilt and swung the blade to the left; the right, twisting the flame in front of her into a figure eight.

  Declan, sword back in hand, moved his back to Alara’s. She looked back at him, and he gave her a nod. Landon made his way to them, a broad grin plastered on his face.

  “Great work. Think you can do it again?” He pushed his shoulder against hers.

  “I believe I just might,” she said, looking at Cedric, who’d snapped a man’s neck and gave her a wink.

  Scarlett stalked toward the horses, her blue blade glowing as she sliced into a man who jumped from a tree. She severed his body before he made it to the ground. Blood covered her cloak, blending into the color of the fabric.

  “To the horses!” Declan yelled before their aggressors recovered themselves to attack again.

  The four of them turned and followed Scarlett, who held the horses by their reins. Cedric jumped on Queenie and pulled Alara in front of him. Scarlett rode behind Declan, and Landon rode on his own.

  Alara looked over Cedric’s arm to Landon. He had a gash across his face. Declan had several scrapes and a spear-sized puncture wound in his shoulder.

  She couldn’t properly look at Cedric to see if he was hurt— or Scarlett for that matter— but for the most part, they all seemed fine, and for that, she was grateful.

  TOMAS sent Alara and Declan away, knowing he may never see them again. He told his guards not to let Talia step foot back into the castle. He’d regained some strength. Sleep hadn’t overpowered him since Talia fled the palace. The only thing plaguing him was the thought of her getting to Landon and doing who knew what to him.

  Tomas knew she could have killed him, thinking he was Alara’s son. Had she known the truth; she would have just gone after Declan all those years ago. Instead, she’d raised him as her own. Not that she had a big hand in doing the raising. Tomas made sure of that.

  Her harsh ideologies about punishments for her child was barbaric. How could he not have known what she was? A pretty face, a charade amongst the masses, all vying for the hand of the king, but only she paid no particular attention to it.

  Perhaps that was why he’d found her amiable. She was seemingly unaffected by the idea of being the queen consort. He fell for it.

  “Hook, line, and sinker.” Talia stepped into his chamber.

  He sat up straighter as she moved closer to his bedside.

  “Guards!” he yelled to the hall.

  “Oh, don’t worry, my darling husband. My guards are out there, so you’re perfectly safe.” She moved to the side of the bed to take his hand. “How are you feeling? I’m told you haven’t taken your medicine in some days.”

  “You mean the vile poison you’ve been feeding me for years? No, and I won’t.” He gave her a stern look. “How did you get inside the palace? There were orders to capture you.”

  “Captured? Your queen? Whatever for?” She feigned innocence.

  “You know what for. You tried to kill me. You failed, by the way. You also failed in killing your own son, too. You went to find him, didn’t you? Landon?” The king shook as he spoke.

  “Landon. My son?” Her eyes went wide. The brown of her irises seemed to glow gold. Her forehead wrinkled in thought. She spun around to look out the window. “What do you mean?”

  “What did you do, Talia? Where is our son?” he growled.

  “Landon is perfectly fine. I left him to meet his brother.” She laughed at Tomas, standing in front of the windowed balcony doors. Her profile reminded him of the beautiful young woman he’d married.

  The sun lowered in the sky, and her black hair shadowed her face, blending in with the black of her dress as it spiraled down her backside. She played with a pearl button at the wrist of her sleeve with her long, thin fingers, toying with it. The curl of her lips told Tomas she was up to something, and he wouldn’t like whatever it was.

  “You’re never going to see them together. You’re aware of that, aren’t you?” she turned to face him. The look in her eye had gone from strange to sinister.

  “I’m aware of that. More now that you’ve returned and apparently turned my guards against me. Are you going to kill them as well?” Tomas made a move to get out of bed, but Talia moved quickly to his side and tucked his blankets.

  “Now, now. You’re ill. No need to get all worked up. The boys will be home in a few days, I’m sure. Your precious Alara… well, you’ll see her soon enough in the afterlife.” She produced her hands. A ring she’d always worn sat on the index finger of her right hand. With a pointed nail, she popped open the t
op of the ring, dipped her nail into the contents, and smiled at the king. “Long live the queen,” she said, thrusting her nail into his bare chest.

  The skin around the nail petrified. Necrosis spread from the puncture, trailing across Tomas’ breast as if his chest were glass hit by a stone, then stopped. “There, that should help you feel more like yourself. Or not,” she drew up his chin and gave him a kiss on his open mouth. “Good night, my sweet.”

  Talia flipped the lid on her ring shut and left the room, laughing all the way down the hall.

  Tomas, stiff as a corpse, fell back against his pillows. As his eyes slid shut, he thought of his sons and his Alara.

  Gliding through the palace, Talia laughed. The king’s guard was replaced by the queen’s, all loyal and hand-picked by her.

  The power on all of Ikrith could not have beaten hers. She’d made sure of that. When the old sorcerer, Iren, refused to allow Talia to use her power to obtain more standing, she had to take matters into her own hands. After all, if she wanted to be queen of all the land, she had to get into the royal house first.

  Ensuring she could marry the king and bear his child was the easiest part. Since Alara had woken, things had become a bit more precarious.

  Her hourglass form, laden in black silk, felt like heaven under her touch. Never again would she experience the beaten down life of a commoner. As soon as she rid herself of Alara, Talia’s position would be secured.

  Unfortunately, Talia hadn’t anticipated the eldest fae’s survival. She should have stayed behind to make sure the red-headed fairy perished before Alara found the dilapidated house.

  “Well, I’ll have a few words with my son when he arrives.” She spoke to the empty halls as she made her way to the throne room.

  Both chairs sat on top of the dais, but not for long. She’d ordered her guards to rid the chamber of the queen’s chair since the prince would only require one seat.

  If he’d been successful in his mission, he and his brother would be arriving at the palace in two days’ time. If not, then he’d arrive alone. Either way, with the king dead and everyone believing Alara’s son to be Landon, he’d ascend to the throne. Whether Declan came with him made no difference to her.

  The queen consort laid a hand on the back of the king’s chair, thinking fondly of the memories she’d shared with him; the parties and seduction. Then the lavish lifestyle he threw at her to assure her he didn’t care for the sleeping queen more than his consort queen; the one who enabled his son to be born.

  Had Tomas not been so desperate to ensure he had an heir… well, she wouldn’t think of that. It all went as well as Talia expected from the moment she left Iren, trapping him and every other healer to that dreadful island.

  “It was brilliant.” She slid her hand across the back of the chair and down the arm.

  A seductive woman from the very beginning, she slithered her fingertips until they touched the arm, then moved them free of the wood. A splinter caught in her finger. She removed it with her sharp nails, placing her finger to her lips to catch the drop blood, and closed her eyes as she took in the taste of herself.

  “Excuse me, Majesty.” The smile on her face faded slowly as she turned to face the guards.

  “Yes?” Her eyes were glossed over, the faintest curl of her lips lingering as she spoke.

  “The men are here to remove the throne. Where would you like them to put it?” the man asked uneasily.

  “In the burn pile. We won’t be needing it,” she said, moving out of the way.

  “Certainly.” The man bowed, and she caught him by the chin with her long nails.

  “You may come to my chambers later. I feel threatened and require personal protection.” She gave him a wink and let her fingers flick away from his chin. A small line of red appeared along his jaw. “Oh, dear. Look what I’ve done.” She leaned into his ear and whispered so only he could hear her. “If you’re a good protector, I might go easy on the rest of your body.” The heat of her breath sent a shiver down the man’s spine.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” He bowed again and barked orders to remove the chair. Before leaving the room, the guard turned to face Talia, giving her a wink and a smile. She raised her brows at him, and he went, leaving her in the solace of quiet.

  “Yes, indeed,” she said, looking at the throne. “Long. Live. The Queen.”

  “WHAT in the world were you thinking?” Declan waited until they were clear of harm and rested before he shot questions of sanity at Alara. “You could have gotten yourself killed!” he screamed again, louder than the last time.

  “I don’t care,” she sighed, speaking so low he thought he’d heard her wrong.

  “What?” he asked.

  Alara stood, stared him in the face, and shouted so everyone could hear her. “I don’t care!” She gawked wide-eyed at the boy of sixteen who should have been her son. “I’ve slept my life away. To wake up finding out everyone I’ve ever cared for has been killed or is dying, I. Don’t. Care,” she dropped back to the ground. “You and your brother should not be out here, risking your life for me.” Her gentle tone returned.

  “You’re acting like a child,” Declan shot back.

  All eyes turned toward the two of them.

  “News flash, I am a child,” Alara looked back at the boy. Tears stung her eyes. Her vision blurred, but she saw the red cloak of Scarlett come closer.

  “Leave her alone. Who do you think you are? You cannot speak to her that way.” Scarlett crouched next to Alara, draping her arm and cloak around her.

  “From where I’m standing,” Declan stated, “I have every right. I was raised to be the head of a kingdom; to lead an army. She is irresponsible and impulsive. So yes, I have that right when it looks as if she’s going to get herself killed.” Declan ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

  “That doesn’t mean you get to speak to her like that.” Landon moved closer to Alara. “She’s lost a lot. She’s dealing with a lot.” He stood between the women and his brother.

  “Oh, and we haven’t? You lost your childhood,” Declan retorted.

  “And she lost yours!” Cedric yelled from behind the prince. Declan turned to face the man dressed like a king’s guard, even though he’d come to terms with the fact he had no experience to hold the honor. “You said it yourself, pretending she was your mother was better than the reality. Well, now you know the truth. Why else do you think your father asked you to keep her company? So, you could become close.”

  “We are strangers,” he pointed out. “I only know what I’ve been told. She knows nothing of me.”

  “I don’t think that’s entirely accurate,” Cedric said, reminding him of the words Alara had spoken to him when she woke.

  Declan turned to face her. The sight of a young girl, crying in the arms of another, was all he could see. He looked beyond her outward appearance. “Everyone always talked of the just and fair queen. That her love of the people kept the king fair and just as well. Everyone was in love with the Red Queen. Even me.” He spoke only to her, not caring that the others were there. “I’d visit you every day. Sometimes, when Talia made me so mad, I could barely contain my anger, I’d sit with you all day; talk to you as if you were holding my hand, listening while I complained.”

  She glanced up at him, his own eyes staring back at him. “I did listen. I may not remember every conversation, but I listened. I grieved when I couldn’t put my arms around you and hold you when you were sad. I laughed at all your jokes and smiled whenever your accomplishments made you so hyper you couldn’t sit still. I knew you by the smell of your hair. Every time you walked into the room; my mood would lift. You may look at me as a stranger, but I know as much about you as any mother could know about her son.”

  Scarlett stood, and Declan knelt in front of Alara. He took her hands in his. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled and that I’ve been distant since Landon told us the truth, but the thought of you dying after everything… It just can’t happen. I just don’t
know, after all this time, how to look at you as my mother. I’m sorry for that too.”

  Alara shook her head. “You don’t have to be sorry for that. I’m having just as hard a time as you are with all of this. And you’re right.” She wiped her face quickly and jumped to her feet. Giving Declan’s hand a pat, she let it go before she pulled her sword from its sheath. “You don’t know my family or me, except for the things your father knew.” She moved away from him and sparred in front of them. “I was pretty good with a blade by the time I was your age. Your grandfather told me even a woman should know how to protect herself,” she said with a wink to Scarlett. “You showed them a thing or two back there,” she said to the red-cloaked girl.

  “You weren’t too bad yourself, Majesty.” Scarlett bowed her head slightly and smiled.

  “Okay, let's curb the ‘Majesty.’ It’s Alara. We are just a group of friends traveling together. I haven’t been the queen for many years. I don’t think I want it anymore. What I do know is my muscles are still weak from not being used.” She swiped her blade through the air, and it came alive. “Who wants to spar with a weakling?”

  Landon stepped forward in a flash. “I’d hardly call you weak. I’ll give it a go. I was only able to go ‘round with Father when he visited. The sisters were useless with weapons.” He moved forward, pulling his dark blade from his belt.

  “That is an interesting weapon, Landon. May I ask where you got it?” Cedric moved closer to Alara as he spoke, using his protective stance to place himself between the two of them.

  Alara hadn’t got a good look at it during the fight, nor had he pulled it free of his cloak since they’d departed his childhood home, though she thought it sparked a hint of familiarity.

  Landon smiled a bit and then looked wary at the four in front of him.

  Declan’s eyes came together in a scowl.

  “I didn’t think you’d recognize it,” Landon said.