Ellenessia's Curse Book 1: The Shadow's Seer

by Fran Jacobs

  "Oh." I stared down at the floor between his black, leather boots, not sure what to think about any of this. I had seen someone in the room. I knew that I had. Those black eyes and that wild hair was imprinted in my mind. I didn't know why Kal would say that there had been no one there, but he seemed fairly insistent that there hadn't been and he had no reason to lie to me. "I'm sorry," I said. "My mistake."

  "It's all right, Candale. I'm not angry with you. Just a little disappointed that you would try to lie."

  "Not lie," I said. "I was just mistaken."

  "All right," he said easily. "Then let us forget this."

  "Yes," I said, "All right."

  "Would you like some wine?"

  "Seeing as it's mine, yes, thank you."

  Kal grinned at me, set his glass down on the low wooden table in front of the couch, then went to pour me a glass of wine. "Just a little," he told me. "You're still unwell."

  "I know," I said. "I don't need reminding." I took the wine from him with a grateful smile and sipped it. "Do I still look skeletal?" I asked.

  "A little."

  I scratched my chin. "I'm sick of this beard as well."

  "Not that you can call it that. It's just wispy youthful facial fluff, Dale."

  "Thanks," I said dryly.

  Kal studied me for a moment and then disappeared into my bedroom, taking the bowl of water with him, without a word as to why. He returned a few minutes later carrying my razor, hand-mirror and the bowl, which was now filled with clean water. He set the bowl down on the low table, which he dragged closer, carefully trying not to spill anything, and then held up my heavy, silver, hand-mirror in front of me.

  "Can you manage?" he asked.

  "The water's cold," I told him.

  "Yes. It was brought up with your breakfast in a jug. I found it on your bedside table. It will do, Candale."

  "Yes, I suppose so."

  I started off slowly, determined to shave myself. Only my hands shook so badly that, after nicking myself twice in as many seconds, Kal set the mirror down and took the razor from my hands. "Let me," he said, gently.

  "Thank you," I muttered. "It's harder than I thought it would be."

  "It'll just take time, Candale, that's all." Kal moved closer to me and shaved my face and throat carefully. I tried not to look at him, just stared past his shoulder, and when he was done he put the razor down and lifted the mirror so that I could look at myself. "The beard hid some of the mess that your illness made of you," he said. "But it looked terrible. I'd rather see a wasted and ill-looking Candale, than a wasted and ill-looking Candale with a patchy beard."

  "Me, too," I said. I still looked thin and skeletal in the mirror, but the shadows had faded somewhat and my eyes were no longer as dark and haunted. I was pale and ghostly, but I looked more like myself again, not the shrivelled, wasted stranger I had seen staring back at myself the last time I had looked into the mirror.

  It wasn't much later when Aylara finally arrived. She embraced me, hard, and I was left reeling, my senses filled with the scent of her perfume. A servant had come up with her, carrying a tray of food, which we all sat around to eat once the servant had bowed and left us in peace. There were soft pastries filled with fruit, mashed turnips and parsnips, slices of chicken covered in a rich garlic sauce, and bread, fresh baked and still warm from the oven. It felt so good to eat proper food again and they were all my favourites, too. Rich and spicy food that was, probably, really bad for my stomach, which had had nothing but broth and bland food inside it for so long, but I didn't care.

  I ate so much I thought I would burst, and settled down afterwards feeling full and content. I fell asleep by the fire, listening to Kal and Lara teasing each other.

  A sudden flash of pain in my head, as the castle healer prodded and poked my new bump, woke me. I yelped and wrenched away from her.

  "I thought that might wake you," Anyia told me. She studied me with hard grey eyes. "How are you feeling, Prince Candale?"

  "Tired."

  "Dizzy?"

  "No."

  "Good." She stared into my eyes for a moment and then moved back. "Hmm. I think that you're all right."

  "I am," I told her. "I just have a slight headache."

  "Well, I can do something about that. I'll mix you up a potion that will take the pain away, then I think it's back to bed for you. You've been very ill. I'm glad to see that you felt well enough to leave your bed, but you mustn't overdo things."

  "Yes," I said wearily. "I know."

  "If you know then why do you have a large bump on your head?" I didn't answer and Anyia gave me a disapproving look as she turned away to make up the potion she had threatened me with. It was a bitter tasting grey concoction, that made my mouth twist with distaste and, after I'd drunk it, Kal carried me back to bed. I fell asleep again almost as soon as my head touched the pillow, dreaming pleasant dreams of sitting in front of the fire and talking with my friends.

  ***

  In the morning I faced further disapproval, this time in the form of a lecture from Silnia. She scolded me for my foolishness, how I should have known better, but I could see that her heart wasn't really in it. Before long she was telling me about the new variety of roses in her garden and my foolishness was forgotten.

  After lunch my father came to see me. He didn't mention the bump on my head, no doubt believing that Silnia's lecture had been more than enough to straighten me out. Instead he helped me to walk into my sitting room where I found my chess set had been laid out, ready for a game.

  "Feel up to it?" he asked me.

  "Yes," I said. "Oh, yes." I sat down in a chair, more collapsed than sat really, and tugged a blanket around myself.

  "Good," he said softly. "I'm glad. I've missed our time together, Candale."

  "So have I. I was so tired of lying in that bed."

  "Yes," he agreed.

  "I really can't wait until I can have a bath, by myself, or go outside or eat in the Great Hall again, or just do something that I want to do, without worrying about collapsing, or needing someone to keep an eye on me."

  "And you're looking forward to your lessons, of course?" my father asked. "Lykeia will be glad to have you back."

  I laughed. My father meant it as a tease, but he had no idea how much I had even missed my lessons. "Yes," I said. "I'm looking forward to it. I'm just looking forward to being myself again."

  "We all are, Candale," Gerian said. "Believe me, we have missed you."

  "I know." I bowed my head. "I'm sorry that I worried you and Mother so much."

  "It wasn't your fault, Candale. None of this was your fault. It was mine for not sending for Mayrila sooner. I shouldn't have let you suffer like that for so long. I just wanted to find some other to way help you, rather than indebt myself to her. I never meant to put you at risk. I didn't really know how sick you were. When she told me that it was nearly too late ... I ... I'm so sorry, Candale. I love you. You do know that? You do know that I didn't want you to die?"

  "Yes," I whispered. "I know that, Father." I tried to smile reassuringly at him, to show him that it was all right, but I wasn't sure that it was. I wanted to tell him that I had heard him, when the fever had taken me, that he would rather I die than let Mayrila get her hands on me. I wanted to ask if that was true. Was his hatred for the woman who had saved me more important than my life? But I shook that thought off. My father loved me. He had his reasons and I hadn't died. Wasn't that the most important thing? It might have been too close for comfort, but I wasn't dead. "You really don't like her," I said.

  "No."

  "She saved my life."

  "Yes. That doesn't change who and what she is though, Candale. Nothing will change that. And I don't want you to go and see her. I don't want you to have anything to do with her, do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir. I understand."

  "Good." He leaned over the chessboard and moved a white pawn. I got the message clearly enough; he didn't want to discuss his feelings
about Mayrila with me. That just inflamed my curiosity as to why he didn't want to discuss her, but I knew better than to push my father on a subject like this.

  "What about what she said?" I whispered. "About me being poisoned?"

  "An overactive imagination on her behalf," Gerian said dismissively. "Now take your move, Candale."

  My sister had given me the chess set on my last birthday. It was hand-carved from ebony and ivory, with precious stones set into the eyes of the knights, the kings and the queens. It was a gorgeous set, with a heavy, decorative board and box, both pieces of craftsmanship in their own right. I hadn't played a game for a long time, even before I had fallen ill. My father was always too busy to play with me, and Aylara and Kal had never been very good at the game, so it was nice to play now. However, the three months of illness had made it hard for me to think clearly and I made foolish moves and lost the game fairly quickly, but that didn't matter to me. All that mattered was that I was here, playing chess, as I had done before. Life was slowly starting to get back to normal, even though it might be a slow and frustrating process.

  We played two games of chess. I lost them both, and then my father took me back to bed. He had to help me physically this time, half carrying me back, as I was too exhausted to make it alone.

  "This is frustrating," I told him, as he helped me climb up into bed.

  "I know. Give it time."

  "Is Mayrila going to come back and see me?" I asked. "See how I'm doing?"

  Gerian settled the blankets around me. "When you're strong enough to handle her, then I would imagine so. Your grandfather and I will be with you if she does. We won't leave you alone with her."

  "No."

  "Do you want to sleep?" he asked.

  "For a bit, I suppose," I said, stifling a yawn.

  "Then I shall leave you." He dimmed the lantern beside my bed and left me to sleep again.

  ***

  It was just over another week before I was strong enough to take a bath for myself without anyone fearing that I might slip over in the tub. Afterwards, I was able to get dressed. It was the first time in three months that I had worn clothes next to my skin and it felt good even if those clothes no longer fit me. My tunic hung loose from my shoulders and my breeches kept falling down. I needed to have three extra holes put into my belt just to keep my breeches up.

  Soon after that I was able to start going for walks. Not very far at first, just up and down the corridor outside my suite, with Kal and Lara for company. It seemed so pointless, to just walk along the corridor, turn around and come back to my rooms again, but I didn't have the strength to attempt the stairs, and I needed the exercise. Servants and courtiers passed me in the corridor sometimes and watched my progress, which brought a flush of embarrassment and frustration to my face because I couldn't move quickly enough to avoid them looking at me. I wasn't the prince they remembered. I was a pale, weak version of my earlier self and I hated that they saw me that way. But I knew that it couldn't be helped. I couldn't gain my strength back in my bedchamber.

  One afternoon, after I had actually felt well enough to tackle a flight of the castle's stairs, my tutor came to see me.

  Lykeia was fairly young to have risen so far in Court, so fast. He was perhaps thirty, with short, sandy blond hair and large, brown eyes. He had a strong face and a body that matched - a large man, tall, with broad shoulders - yet, he was so gentle. He looked as though he should have been a soldier, not a tutor. I liked him a lot. He was funny and clever and I was glad to see him, even if he did bring me several heavy books and pieces of parchment. "I heard that you were working on building up your strength," he told me. "We can't let your mind rot either."

  "No," I agreed.

  "And you have fallen behind."

  "Yes," I said. There was no doubt about that. Even though I had always been top of my class, enjoying studying nearly as much as I had enjoyed avoiding classes to go hunting, everyone would have caught me up and overtaken me in those months I had lain dying in my bed.

  "So I have brought some books for you to read and, when you're back at class, you and I can discuss some extra tuition." He smiled at me, flashing his dimples. "But I don't think it will take very long until you've caught up again. It'll be nice to know, however, that you'll be at every class. You can't afford to miss them to sneak off hunting, or swimming, or whatever it was that you used to do when you were meant to be learning about the history of Carnia." I grinned at that and he flashed me another smile before leaning forward and grasping my hand in his. "I'm so glad to see you looking so well," he said earnestly. "For a while there I feared that you would die."

  "So did I."

  He gave my hand another squeeze and then moved back. "Well ... I should probably leave you and let you get on with your studying."

  "Yes," I said, with a smile. "Thank you for coming to see me, Lykeia."

  He gave me a nervous smile as he got to his feet. "You're welcome," he said.

  When he had gone, I turned my attention towards the books he had brought me. It was doubtful that Lykeia had really believed I would get straight down to work, but he couldn't have had any idea about how bored I really was. Anything was better than just lying on my couch staring into the fire, as I had been for most of the day.

  I was caught up in my studies, learning about trade practices between Kyerania, Drasa and Carnia, when my grandfather came into see me. I set the book down instantly and got up from my couch to walk slowly toward him. He watched me and then seized my elbows in his grip as soon as I was close enough. "I'm glad to see you up, Candale," he whispered.

  "As glad as I am to be up. I haven't seen you since Mayrila healed me."

  "No," he said. "I have been busy." He helped me to sit back down on my couch and settled himself across from me. "I've been kept up to date with your progress, of course. And I'm glad to hear that you're walking by yourself now."

  "More or less, yes. I can't go very far, but I can manage it."

  "Good." He nodded with approval. "It'll take time, I know. We can't rush this." His eyes narrowed. "But I, for one, will be glad when you gain a little weight back. Gods, boy, you're drowning in that!" I glanced down at myself, at the simple tunic and breeches that I had pulled on. He was right, they hung off my frame. I looked like a child in his father's clothing. "But, it can't be helped. Would you like some wine?"

  "Thank you."

  He poured us both a goblet of wine and then returned to his seat, looking me over with soft eyes, while I nervously sipped from my glass. "I ... I'm sorry that I hurt you," Sorron said suddenly.

  "Hurt me?"

  "When I held you down, when Mayrila healed you. I ... I've never heard anyone scream like that, Candale, and I hated that I was the one who was doing it to you, that I was holding you down to suffer that pain. I would never have let anyone hurt you like that if I didn't think it was necessary. You do know that?"

  "Yes," I said. "I know that. And please, don't concern yourself with it, Grandfather. It's all so hazy for me now and I'd rather keep it that way. I was so frightened I would die. I don't want to think about what I must have looked like, how I must have embarrassed you, crying in your arms like that."

  "I would never be embarrassed by you, Candale, and certainly not when you were ill. I was afraid for you. We all were."

  "What about when I talk about things that never happened? Doesn't that embarrass you?"

  Sorron sipped his wine and stared thoughtfully down into the goblet for a moment. "That's an odd thing to say," he said softly.

  "Kal says that I'm an odd boy."

  "Yes," my grandfather said, "I suppose that he might think that of you. Kal grew up too fast, I think. His father died when he was young, and he took over Ruale's responsibilities while he was still just a child. That made him appreciate his time alone all the more and I just don't think he can understand why you, as a prince of Carnia, with already so much attention directed your way, could possibly crave any more. So, to him, your s
tories, your exaggerations, are strange and eccentric." Sorron gave me a fond smile. "And not just to him, I might add."

  "I don't do things to get attention, Grandfather." I was offended that he would say that to me. He made me sound spoilt and conceited. "I really do think that what I say has happened."

  "Really?" Sorron lifted his gaze to meet mine. I saw concern there and I swallowed nervously. "Candale, really, do you mean that?"

  "Y-you're going to think I'm mad now, aren't you? On top of everything else that I've been through, you're going to think that I'm mad." I set my wine glass down and got slowly to my feet. I couldn't stand the way he was looking at me. In an attempt to distract myself from his gaze, I moved over to the fire and knelt down to add more logs to it, not that it needed them at all. "The other day, when I fainted, I could have sworn I saw someone in here. A child, with dark hair and black eyes. But Kal said there wasn't anyone in here, just him, and that I often tell stories about things that didn't happen." I poked the fire, stirring up the grey ash at the bottom. "I didn't know that I did that and I can't think of one time that I've done that on purpose." I turned to look at him now. He was studying me silently, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't laughing, there was no amusement in his eyes, but he didn't seem overly concerned either, and that was a relief to me. If he thought I was lying, then he would be angry with me, laugh, or tell me to stop, as Kal had done. If he believed me and thought I was mad, then he would be worried. I wasn't sure what his silent consideration meant, but that he wasn't laughing at me, or accusing me of lying, was enough for the moment. "You don't think I'm mad, do you, sir?"

  "No," he said. "Of course not. Sit down, Candale, please. I don't like talking to your back." Slowly I went back to my chair and sat down. He was silent for a while, just sipping his wine, studying me thoughtfully, then he leaned forward. "I do believe you," he said. "I believe that you think you saw something, but after all you've been through, are you completely sure that you didn't faint and perhaps see this person as you fainted? As you blacked out? A blow to the head can make a man see strange things and you did knock your head fairly hard, I was told."