Awakened (Cursed Magic Series

by Casey Odell

  “Hardly,” he scoffed. He turned his head and pointed to one of his ears with his dagger. “These are just to show that I have completed Lursoo— my rite of passage into manhood.”

  “Rite of passage?”

  “Of course, every Salí male has to do it when they reach the age of fifteen. If they want to be considered a true man and have any chance in joining the Usalí.”

  “What do you have to do?”

  “Survive alone out in the desert for twenty days while hunting the Caz Polloi, the great spotted cat.”

  She gasped. “A Roain?” A shudder ran through her just at the thought of it. Surviving alone in the wilderness was tough, but she couldn’t imagine doing it while having to hunt such a beast.

  Razi chuckled. “No, no. A beast much smaller than that, though just as fierce.” He looked down at her and sheathed his dagger. “Not everyone survives, you know. And I had to do all this before I learned of my powers.”

  “I’m impressed,” she admitted, stroking his ego even more. “Your mark didn’t show up then?”

  “No, the task was hard, but it was not anything we were not used to. Our whole life is about surviving out there. And by then I was already a great hunter.”

  She fought not to roll her eyes at the last part. “Well, then, congratulations for becoming a man. May fortune and women rain down upon you.”

  “They already have, me chaqana.” His grin grew wider.

  Claire did roll her eyes then. It really was a shame he and the elf didn’t get along. Though she wouldn’t want to be around if they did.

  “So, this is where you’re staying?” Claire asked as she slowly circled a dimly lit room.

  A wood carved bed sat in the middle with a small table next to it, supporting an ornate oil lamp. Multiple paintings of battles hung on the walls, the same variety found throughout the palace, making for a much more gruesome decorating scheme than she had expected. A few swords and daggers hung on display between paintings and sat on shelves. Although smaller than her own accommodations, and less lavishly decorated, it seemed to suit him well.

  Farron stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame casually with arms crossed, and dressed refreshingly in white and brown. He watched her carefully, curiously, as if he were afraid of what she may think.

  “For now,” Farron replied. “I’m surprised they kept it. I must admit, I thought my new room would have been below the palace if I ever returned here.”

  “And I must say, I’m surprised there are not more weapons on display.” Given his affinity for the things. She crossed to a small balcony, the doors open to let in the waning light of the day. A vast view of the crop fields and far off mountains greeted her. Reds and yellows washed over the sky. She turned to face Farron, who was still in the doorway across the room. “Why did you bring me here?”

  Although appreciative, she wondered what his motives truly were. She’d just gotten done with another practice session and was on her way to the baths when he’d snatched her away, sweat drenched, dagger and all, and led her through a maze of hallways to the rear of the palace, with nary a hint of what or where he was leading her to.

  “You said you were curious about my past.” He shrugged and kicked the door closed behind him. “Besides, how else was I supposed to get you alone in my room?”

  Her back straightened up as a line of nervousness crept down her back. What exactly was he planning to do?

  An evil grin crept over his mouth as he stalked over to her and leaned down close, but then he stopped, hovering right above her mouth. Waiting. Her pulse quickened as she realized for what. Slowly, she slid her eyes closed and her hands over his shoulders, and gave him what he wanted. Though she’d be lying if she didn’t want the same thing. She kissed him, sweet and light and just a tad bit tentative.

  After a few moments, he drew back and said, “Perfect.”

  “What is?”

  “This— you not running away from me anymore. Or yet, I should say.” He straightened up.

  “Should I be?”

  He took her hands in his, lacing his fingers through hers, and held them up to the side, turning her. “I wouldn’t like it if you did.” His smile faltered as he started to push her back gently.

  It wasn’t until the back of her legs brushed up against the side of the bed that she realized just where he was leading her. “Fare, wait—” she managed to say just before he pushed her back onto the crimson covers.

  Half a second later, he was beside her on the bed, his mouth already tracing a line down her neck, hand sliding up her side. “I don’t think you know how long I’ve been waiting for this, Claire.” His lips brushed against her ear, making it harder for her to concentrate already. How was it that he had this effect on her again?

  “I thought,” she whispered. “I thought you were going to take it slow?”

  “You still have your clothes on, don’t you?”

  “That’s not…” Teeth nipped lightly along her neck, replacing her words with sighs. She dug her fingers into his shoulder. “That’s not… I thought you brought me here to share some more of your past.”

  “Then you’d surely run for the hills, my lady.” Amusement laced his soft voice. “There’s not a whole lot that I really want to share with you.”

  What in the world was that supposed to mean? She could feel the stirrings of anger deep down in the lowest parts of her stomach. She was starting to think that there was only one reason he’d brought her here.

  “Why do you still try so hard to hide it?” She pushed him back until he was able to look at her, even if it was a look of confusion, and maybe a pinch of annoyance as well. “Your past?”

  He took a deep breath, his expression growing serious. “What do you want to know? That I’ve destroyed families? That I’ve caused conflicts? Food shortages? Broken marriages? That I’ve killed men? I don’t want to share that part of my life with you.”

  “You’ve… killed?”

  “It was my job.” He studied her for a second, and then a sad look crossed over his face. “Already you pull away, just at the mere mention of some of the things I have done. Don’t ever think I would raise a blade against you, Claire. I have not harmed women or children, and I do not aim to start with you. The men I killed, their hands were redder than mine, maybe not directly, but bloodied none the less. Their lives were not taken so thoughtlessly.” He brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Don’t be afraid of me.”

  She didn’t know what he saw on her face, but she knew it wasn’t anything happy. If those were only some of the things he’d done, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the rest. But still, she found herself oddly curious.

  “I’m not that person anymore, I haven’t been for a while now. And I’d like to keep it that way. In the end, I hide my past for the same reason you hide yours.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do.” He settled onto his elbow, eyebrow raised. “You’re just more selective about it.”

  She turned her head away from him, cheek brushing along the silky quilt. “I don’t know what—”

  “I know you still try to hide your sadness.” His hand touched her jaw and turned her face towards his again. “The nights you cry, I can tell. Even now. How it gets puffy, ever so slightly, here.” His fingers traced lightly under her right eye. “I know you are still trying to mend this.” His fingers traced down to her chest, just above her heart. “After what that man, or should I say men, did to you. You still won’t even tell me what he did to you. I know that in here—” his fingers found their way to the side of her head, digging into her hair “— is the real reason why you don’t want to leave this place. In some ways, you are more closed off than I, my lady.”

  Yet again, everything landed too close to the truth. She was starting to think that she really was easy to read. So, she did what she did best in situations like these, changed the subject. “Why did you leave this place?”

  “I told you that already. I had to,” he st
ated matter-of-factly.

  “You don’t sound too sad about that, about losing your home.”

  “I didn’t lose my home, Claire. Yours may have been torn away from you, but I walked away from mine willingly.” A sly grin slid over his lips. “As long as we are digging around each other’s pasts, why don’t you tell me about this little fiancé of yours?”

  “Why?”

  “Because, I would like to hunt him down and thank him, for not marrying you.”

  “So, you’re not really curious after all, are you?” she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder to push him away.

  “I am,” he said, sobering up. “I’m dying to know what it takes to get in here.” His hand returned to her chest, his finger traced circles above her heart. “But I’m also terrified that I will never get in, no matter how hard I try.”

  “A girl has to protect her heart,” she teased. “Especially after… well, you know…”

  His face hardened slightly. “Did he do this to you himself?” He touched her arm, his fingers tracing along her scar.

  Claire felt a sharp wave of fear spread through her as the memory threatened to surface. She’d tried to keep it buried. Tried not to think about it. Sometimes it would creep up on her in a dream, and it would seem so real, the way he pressed her body down across the table, the feeling of helplessness, physically and emotionally, the blade as it sliced through her skin, but then she’d immediately try and suppress it again when she awoke. A shiver ran down her body. She never really had told him what had happened.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice soft as a whisper. “Two guards helped him hold me down as he did it…” He didn’t say anything, but she could see the anger, the clenched jaw, the coldness in his eyes. She pinched him on the arm playfully to break him of his reverie. “But I’m fine now, right? Thanks to you.”

  “Yes,” he said, his face taking on a sort of wistful quality. “Just think, you could have been happily married, living a peaceful life somewhere, but here you are, stuck in a palace with me.”

  “A terrible fate indeed.” She smiled, but it quickly vanished as a question surfaced. One that she kept buried deep, always wondering, but always afraid to ask for fear of the answer. “Be honest with me, Farron. Does it bother you? Me being a tavern maid?”

  “I think you are much more than that, Claire.” His fingers encircled her right wrist and lifted it up. “Even without this. In fact, I’d much prefer you without it. I fear for the day when you finally take up my offer to let you beat me up.”

  Trying her best to ignore the last part of his answer, she placed her hands on either side of his face and drew him down for an unexpected, but well-deserved kiss.

  “And I think,” she said her voice barely above a whisper. “If you keep saying things like that, you just may be able to get in.” She was still afraid to admit that he already had. Just a little bit.

  “My lady, if that was all it took, I would have started a long time ago.” His famous grin took over his face, so sure and full of himself.

  Better make that just a tiny bit.

  Farron stayed. Five days and counting, and he’d spent almost every one of those nights in her room in the Ghost Tower. Much to her delight and her dismay. Although the nightmares subsided when he was near, she was still left exhausted the next day, being kept awake by other activities. Just because she was taking it slowly didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy other aspects of their relationship.

  It was still early in the afternoon, and she’d just gotten done with a long soak in the bath when she felt the need for a walk. Deciding to skip practice again, she donned the simple white wrap around gown and a pair of slippers and went exploring. The palace was quiet as usual; the servants didn’t scurry about, Lianna didn't pop out of anywhere. It was nice and peaceful.

  She’d wandered over to the east wing, where the King and Lianna were rumored to have rooms. It looked mostly the same: dark hallways, paintings and delicate porcelain on display. Still cold and uninviting with white marble covering almost every surface. What did everyone do all day? She barely saw anyone usually. Surely someone had to work or wander the halls at some point.

  She was on the third floor, halfway down another dark hallway when she heard a familiar voice. He was saying something in that pretty language he used every now and then, in almost a singsong manner. She followed the voice to an open doorway. Bright light from the outside poured into the hall. Claire peered around the corner. A small courtyard covered in green greeted her. Flowers lined the walls and the sound of babbling water floated on the fresh air. The space was lively and colorful, though still not as lovely as Lianna’s.

  And in the middle of it all stood Farron, holding a boy of about three or four, bouncing him up and down as he repeated the words in that foreign language. The boy smiled gleefully, grabbing at Farron’s silver hair, just like his own. Small pointed ears peeked out from under a mop of platinum blonde on the little boy’s head.

  Claire’s stomach sank, her heart beating its way up into her throat. She stepped out from behind the wall and leaned against the open door, her knees weak from shock. Did she stumble upon yet another of the elf’s secrets? If so, she definitely wasn’t ready for one of this caliber.

  Farron stopped speaking when he saw her, but his smile didn’t disappear.

  “Is that one yours?” She crossed her arms, trying her best to look nonchalant.

  He raised an eyebrow, his smile growing broader. “I’d like you to meet Aiden, the future King of Derenan.” He stepped closer to her, adjusting the boy so he could see her, but the boy just hid his face in Farron’s shoulder. Farron chuckled. “Hopefully he’ll grow out of that.”

  She just looked up at him, waiting for the answer to her earlier question. As usual, he was dragging things out on purpose, surely enjoying her torture.

  “He is also my nephew,” he revealed casually.

  Without caring how she looked, Claire collapsed back against the door, a hand going up to her forehead. Relief washed over her. If he had been hiding something like that from her, she’d make him sorry he’d ever met her. But was she really that worried that he might have had a son? More than she would like to admit.

  “The King has a son? With whom?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  “The Duchess of Salgir,” he said. “Queen Meiriona.”

  “But isn’t Li—” She stopped before she could complete her name. He hadn’t told her much about Lianna since that one night, perhaps it was still a sore subject. Though, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know all the details. Just some of them…

  Farron smiled a little solemnly. He probably knew what she was going to say. “My brother has many mistresses––” He placed a hand over the boy’s ear. “Not all of them women, if I may add.”

  Her eyebrows shot up and she could feel her jaw loosen.

  “When you are the King, you are allowed to get away with many things.”

  “The King, likes men?” The palace was getting more and more scandalous by the second.

  “I think he likes anything that walks.” He grinned. “Though I have yet to see a sheep emerge from his bedchamber.”

  A short snort of laughter escaped from her lips. The idea just seemed too absurd. She just hoped that it didn’t run in the family.

  How could the King lead such a debauched life when he had a child? Did he even care for the mother? But perhaps Farron was right— he was the king, he could do whatever he wanted. He could have his queen, his playthings on the side, and have an heir to the throne. But, at the rate he was going, he’d have more heirs than he’d know what to do with.

  Reality hit her then, smacking her in the head so hard it nearly floored her. Of course, how could she have been so stupid? She’d been so caught up in her emotions and everything else, she’d completely forgotten about the other by-product of their late night rendezvous. Worry already started to churn her insides. She probably shouldn’t have had that second serving at lunch.

 
Farron came closer, a smirk already in place.

  “What?” she asked. She probably looked as anguished as she sounded. And a bit green as well…

  “I wouldn’t worry so much over that.”

  “Over what?”

  “Let’s just say the Council made sure there wouldn’t be any more contenders for the throne.” He patted his side where his tattoo sat. “It’s a good luck charm, after all.”

  “So, you can’t ever have children?” she asked, out of basic curiosity. Just the idea was horrifying and sad. And potentially very lonely.

  “Not if I want to keep my head.” His face held a hint of sadness. “I rather like it where it is. So you may rest in peace, Claire. And keep your lunch.” He bent and placed a light as a feather kiss on her lips. “Although, if it were with you, I wouldn’t mind,” he whispered, his mouth just above hers.

  With that, he straightened up and walked down the dark hallway, continuing the chant in his pretty language to the little boy, bouncing him up and down slightly.

  Stunned, Claire slid down the door to the ground, her legs finally giving out. Now there was an idea that was truly frightening.

  “I want to try something different,” Razi said as he stepped closer to Claire.

  They stood in the middle of Lianna’s magnificent garden, having gotten prior permission, of course. Dressed and ready for training, they each had their hair pulled back, and daggers at their waists. She was ready to sweat and get a good work out, but his demeanor told her that may not be what was on the agenda.

  It was late in the afternoon, the sun on its waning journey towards the horizon and a slight chill in the air. Winter was coming, and with that came shorter days, colder temperatures, and gray skies. Soon, even Lianna’s garden would wilt along with everything else to blend in with the surrounding coldness of the palace.

  Razi raised his hand up between them. “May I?”

  She looked up at him, eyebrow raised in question as she searched his face. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him—well, not entirely anyway. She just wasn’t sure what he was asking for.