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

by Fran Jacobs

  But today was different. Today they were talking about me, and I knew it, and I knew it was important, and that meant I had a right to know what they said, even if they didn't think so. Even if I was caught, and punished, it would be worth it. No matter what punishment my father thought up for me, it would be worth it.

  I got to my feet and padded out into the corridor. There was no sign of them, but I knew where they would be headed. My grandfather would have taken Mayrila to the small council chamber. It was where he always went when he had something important to discuss and didn't want to be disturbed, so I started to head that way.

  As I was making my way down the corridor, a young man was making his way up it towards me. He was unfamiliar to me, but that was nothing new. There were always people coming and going from Court and I had been ill, which made it harder to keep track. But as we drew near to each other he caught my eye and stopped walking. "Prince Candale ... Prince Gerian just sent me to find you."

  "He did?"

  "To keep you entertained. He told me that your recovery was slow, that you were bored of lying around all day and he suggested that I sing for you."

  "Oh." This had to be the new bard. He was handsome, with honey brown hair, with reddish tints, that hung down to the nape of his neck and covered his ears. He had a soft, feathered fringe that brushed against his large, almond-shaped green eyes, giving him a shy, romantic sort of look, like a hero in a love ballad. He had a strong jaw and pointed chin and was well dressed in the latest fashion, a tight dark grey doublet that revealed the strength in his broad shoulders and clung across his flat belly and narrow waist. He was strong, tall and healthy, while here I stood, a few inches taller than he was, pale and drawn, my dark curls untidy and wild, and so thin that my clothes hung from my frame. I wouldn't have been surprised if a stranger had mistaken him for the prince and me as nothing more than a scullery boy.

  And my father had sent him to try and keep me occupied, no doubt because he didn't trust me. With good reason really, considering the fact that I was half-way down the corridor on my way to spy on him.

  The bard was looking at me, patiently waiting for a response. "I'm sorry," I said. "Under normal circumstances I would love that, but not right now. I have to go see my father."

  "Oh." He hesitated. "Well ... actually, Sire, I was asked to keep you busy."

  "Distracted you mean."

  The bard looked unhappy. "Yes ..."

  "I thought as much and I'm sorry but this is important. Perhaps you could simply make some excuse to my father, say that you couldn't find me maybe? That when you reached my rooms I had already gone."

  "I'm not sure that I can lie to Prince Gerian, Prince Candale."

  "Try," I snapped. I was getting irritated now, this conversation was delaying me, who knew what I was missing because of this bard? And perhaps that was his plan; if he couldn't distract me with music, in my room as my father wanted, perhaps he planned to simply hold me up with pointless conversation? I wasn't going to let that happen, and made a move to step past him.

  "I-I know that, if you were to get caught, you probably wouldn't face the brunt of your lord father's anger," the bard said suddenly. "But I would and-"

  "What do you mean by that?" I asked, unable to help myself. Curiosity had always been a weakness of mine.

  "Well ... you have a whipping boy, don't you? Someone who will take your punishments for you?" When I gave him a blank look, a puzzled expression came over his face. "Doesn't your family believe that you're chosen by the gods, then?" he asked. "And that to mark your skin would be to sin against them?"

  I stared at him, my jaw dropped open, and then I laughed. I laughed harder than I had since before my illness and the bard just stood there, staring at me, his face a mask of confusion. I had to grab the wall to support myself, as my legs were threatening to give out. "Oh, no," I whispered, wiping tears from my eyes. "We don't believe that! No god put my grandfather on the throne and, if my father catches me, he'll take his belt to me himself."

  "Oh," the bard said. "Oh. I didn't know that. But, still, if you were to get caught doing this, it isn't just you who will suffer. I know that you don't know me, that you don't owe me anything, but ... I was sent to distract you and if someone catches you in the act of spying they will know that I didn't do as I was asked."

  "I'm sorry," I said, and I did mean it. I didn't want anyone to get into any trouble because of me. "But I have to do this."

  The bard frowned and then he nodded. "Then ... then maybe I can help you," he said finally.

  "Help me? You would help me to spy on my father and grandfather, your prince and king?"

  He nodded. "I can help you, so you won't be caught. So that neither of us will be caught."

  I couldn't believe this. This complete stranger was actually offering to help me. Yes, it was true that he would be in a lot of trouble if it were found out that he hadn't distracted me as asked, but he would be in even more trouble if he were found spying with me. Unless this was just some other way to distract me ...

  "What's your plan?" I asked, doubtful that he actually had one.

  "Your father told me he was heading to the small council chamber and I know that there's a boarded up door between that room and the one next to it. You can listen through that."

  "That's convenient," I said dryly. "How do you know that?"

  "It ... it's one of the reasons I came here," the bard replied. "Because there are secret passages and hidden doors all over the castle. One of your ancestors was mad -"

  "Only one?"

  The bard grinned, a genuine grin, the first time that he hadn't seemed nervous or uncomfortable since we'd met. "Perhaps more, but this one was impressively paranoid, so he had little secret rooms and tunnels built, so that he could spy on everyone and everything."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. And while he was building various ways to spy on other people, he was blocking up ways that other people could spy on him."

  "Like the door between the two rooms."

  "Exactly. So, um, you could probably listen at that door and hear everything, without running any risk of being caught."

  "Yes," I said. "Well, it's worth a try, I guess. All right, then, lead the way."

  I could hear the angry raised voices of my father and grandfather as we passed the door that led into the small council chamber. There was an anteroom, before the chamber itself, so the fact I could hear my father through two thick doors, and one whole room, meant that he was very angry. The bard didn't say anything about it, just pushed open the door to the small room that stood alongside the council chamber. Peering inside I saw that it was filled with old chairs, covered in dust, and other miscellaneous items of furniture. Clearly it was being used as a storeroom of some sort. There were a lot of rooms like this around the castle. I often felt that we had more rooms than we knew what to do with.

  I stood there, arms folded across my chest, as the bard began tapping on the wall between the two rooms. I stood still and watched him, half convinced I was a gullible idiot, falling for some elaborate, quickly thought up plan to keep me busy, as he had been asked to. Because for seventeen years I had lived in this castle and I had never once heard such a story, and this man, who didn't know that the Carnian Royal Family didn't have whipping boys, knew about the secret tunnels and doors? It didn't make any sense.

  But then I heard it, a soft hollow tap sound. The bard grinned at me, and all my doubts and suspicions left my mind. "It's still a bit muffled," he said. "But you can hear well enough, especially as Prince Gerian is still yelling."

  I drew closer to him, suspiciously. The part of the wall he had his ear pressed against really did look like the rest of the wall, covered over in peeling whitewash. I knelt down beside him, swept away my hair, pressed my ear against the wall, and was surprised when I heard my father's voice. It was still a little muffled but I could certainly hear well enough. As soon as the bard saw that I was settled, he moved away from the wall and sat on the
arm of one of the dusty chairs close by to watch. I gave him an odd look and then turned my attention back to the conversation going on behind the wall.

  I knelt there for a long while and listened to them arguing, although I wasn't sure what they were actually arguing about. I had missed that part of their conversation. Mostly it seemed to be my father yelling at Mayrila. Every now and then she would say something back, which only seemed to anger my father even further, until eventually he lost his temper completely and I heard the sound of something breaking. When he spoke again his voice was suddenly very clear, almost as though he was in the same room with me.

  "He is my son, Mayrila. We brought you here to save his life and you have done that. That is all you were brought here to do, nothing else. You have no part in his life. You're nothing to him."

  "And whose fault is that?" Mayrila said. "You were the one who took him from me, Gerian. You took him away to make of him what you wanted and I told you, so many times I told you, that you can't avoid what he is."

  "What he is," my father said slowly, "is my son, a boy who will be king. That is all. Nothing else."

  "He's more than that," Mayrila said. "Just because you don't believe it, it doesn't mean that it isn't so." I recognised my grandfather's argument in her words and wondered how my father would react to that logic. The same way he reacted to anything that threatened him, with denial.

  "The word of a witch," Gerian said, "doesn't really count for much."

  "No," Mayrila said, "to you, perhaps not. But that doesn't change anything. Whether you believe what I do about him is immaterial. Someone else clearly does and they tried to poison him because of it, and I think that you should tell him."

  "Tell him what?" my father snapped. "Your nonsense story and that you're his mother?" I started at that, feeling a cold wave pass over me. No. No. I hadn't heard what I thought I had. I hadn't heard that. I couldn't have. I must have been mistaken. My father hadn't just said that Mayrila was my mother. He couldn't have. I swallowed back my fear and held my breath, not wanting even the sound of my breathing to mask what I might hear, and listened closely as my father continued. "Because you know that is never going to happen. You might have given birth to him, but that boy is still my son and Silnia's. She raised him. She loves him. She wanted him and he is hers. You are nothing to him, Mayrila, and if you ever tell him any of this, not only will we deny it, but I will have you put to death. You gave him life and we paid you for it. You agreed to have nothing to do with him."

  "I had no choice!" Mayrila snapped. "You took him from me."

  "That was the deal, Mayrila."

  Then my grandfather cut in and my whole world crumbled around me, because I believed the words when they came from his mouth, when I couldn't believe them from my father or the violet-eyed woman. "Candale is your son, Mayrila," Sorron said, "but he's our heir and he's our blood. You saved his life and for that we are grateful, but you have no claim to him. That you birthed him doesn't matter. He is ours. And if he is what you believe him to be, then he would have shown some signs of it by now. He's just a normal boy. Eccentric, but nothing more than that. So, no, we will not be telling him anything."

  "This is a mistake, Sorron," Mayrila snapped, but I couldn't stand to listen to her anymore and pulled away from the wall, getting slowly to my feet. The world was spinning around me and I felt as though everything was collapsing. The bard reached out and caught my arm.

  "Are you all right?" he asked me softly. He looked concerned, and afraid.

  "They've been lying to me," I whispered slowly. "Lying to me."

  "Prince Candale." The bard tightened his grip. "Come and sit down."

  "S-she said ... she said she was my mother." I stared at him, into his eyes, and my breath caught in my throat. "B-but how could she be? How?"

  "I don't know, Prince Candale." He sat me down. "Perhaps you should talk to her about it?"

  I collapsed silently against the arm of the chair and dropped my head into my hands, trembling. Everything I had ever thought about myself was a lie. Everything that I had thought I would be, everything that I had thought I had known, and everyone I thought I could trust, were all false to me. I wasn't Silnia's only son, I was Mayrila's. I wasn't a legitimate child, I was a bastard. I wasn't fit to inherit the throne. Even worse, my grandfather had known this. The man I trusted with everything had known all about this and had been lying to me, for years, for my entire life! How many other people knew about this? How many other people knew my dirty little secret? Were they ever going to tell me about it? I wanted to cry.

  And yet ... and yet, I was angry. Really angry. How could they lie to me about this for so long? How could they do this to me? It all made sense now, why my father hadn't wanted Mayrila sent for, why he had panicked when I had made that comment about her violet eyes. He was afraid that I might find out the truth.

  Gods, I didn't want this! I wanted to be Silnia's son. She had raised me. I loved her. And Aylara, my sister. Not really my sister, now only half mine. Only half my blood. How could they lie to me like this? How could they look me in the eye every day and go on lying to me? And how could I face my father and Silnia, knowing this? How could I talk to any of them again, trust any of them, knowing what I really was? Knowing how they had deceived me my entire life?

  I found myself on the floor suddenly. I wasn't sure how I had gotten down there. Had I slid off the chair? Had I tried to stand and then fallen over? It didn't matter. I was just going to stay there. Stay there on the floor. It was better. It was easier. I lay down and drew my knees up to my chest. I wished that I had never listened to the conversation now. I wished that they had never saved me, that Mayrila had never come to this castle. It would have been so much better to die than to have ever known this truth about myself. I was nothing. I was a lie. My life was a lie. Everything was over.

  "Prince Candale?" The bard's voice was anxious.

  I felt a hand touch my arm, hesitantly, but I didn't move and then I was lifted up, easily, into the bard's arms.

  "I'll take you back to your rooms," he told me, as he walked out into the corridor, but the words didn't seem real to me. I knew that he had spoken them, I had heard the sounds, but I couldn't understand what they meant. I could only lie there, cradled in his arms, feeling numb and empty, and think about how easy it had been for the bard to lift me. I was still so thin, still a wasted shell of a boy. I wasn't a man at all and, now, I wouldn't be the man I had thought that I would be. I wouldn't be king. I couldn't be king. I couldn't be anything. What was there in life left for me?

  "You didn't seem surprised, when I said it," I told the bard quietly. "When I said that Mayrila was my mother, you weren't surprised."

  "Yes, I was," he said. "I can just mask surprise well."

  "You won't tell anyone, will you?" I whispered. "About what I am?"

  "Of course not. No one would believe me anyway, and I would never do such a thing." We had reached my rooms now and he kicked open the door to carry me through. "Are you going to be all right?"

  "I ... I feel sick," I whispered. As soon as I said those words, my stomach heaved and I felt bile rise in my throat. I struggled in his arms and he set me down. I knew that I wasn't going to make it into my privy, not before I was sick, so I ran, as quickly as my weak legs would allow, into my bedroom. A bare moment later I was retching miserably, emptying the contents of my stomach into the porcelain chamber pot. I was crying, sobbing, and I was freezing cold.

  A blanket settled around my shoulders. "Is there anything that I can do for you, Prince Candale?" the bard whispered.

  "No," I said.

  "Can I fetch you anyone?" I shook my head. "I'm really sorry. This was such a bad idea."

  "I-I would have spied anyway," I whispered. "And probably been caught."

  "Yes," he said softly. "But if I had distracted you, as I was asked to, then none of this would have happened."

  "You couldn't have distracted me." I retched again, and the bard reached behi
nd me, gathering up my hair, taking it back away from my mouth. Part of me wanted him to leave me alone with this, but another part was afraid of being alone. My stomach didn't seem to want to settle, and wave after wave of sickness came out of me, as though I would throw up my stomach, and all my organs, and it hurt so much.

  But, eventually, the waves of sickness stopped. There was a little blood in the bowl and the bitter taste of vomit was heavy in my mouth. My cheeks were sore from tears, my chest ached and I just wanted to sleep.

  "I think that you should talk to Mayrila about this," the bard said.

  "Perhaps," I told him. I climbed into my bed and crawled under the covers, fully dressed and still in my boots. "I just want to sleep now. Can I just sleep?"

  "Of course." He moved toward my window and pulled shut the heavy drapes. "Sleep well, then."

  I nodded, pressing my face into the pillow. "I ... I don't even know your name," I whispered sleepily.

  "It's Teveriel," he replied.

  "Oh," I said. "All right."

  I closed my eyes and let sleep claim me and, somewhere, I could hear the sound of a child singing.

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  Chapter Five

  TRUTHS

  I woke with a start to find Aylara standing over me. She had been shaking me, but she released my shoulders and stood back as I opened my eyes. "You slept through supper last night," she said. "I thought you were going to come down to the hall and join the family." She sat down on the bed, on top of my feet, on purpose I decided.