Cursed by Diamonds (A Dance with Destiny Book 1)

by JK Ensley

  Markus held a painted tin box. Alastyn couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. He suddenly wanted to run away from the unknown pain he knew the box would hold. But he also wanted to know, finally, just to know.

  Markus whispered as he passed by the terrified young man, “No more secrets, my son. No more secrets.”

  Alastyn’s mind was swirling with a cascade of fear, grief, longing, loneliness. He stood motionless, staring into a deep abyss of misery. It terrified him, yet drew him.

  Markus took his seat in front of the dying fire and quietly waited for his son to join him.

  Chapter 17

  Merodach

  (MHER-ah-doc)

  Prince Merodach was mortified at the weakness he allowed himself to show. He grumbled aloud as he made his way to his dressing room.

  “No mere woman shall ever defeat me. I’ll take care of this one the hard way. If she wants to play rough, well now, that’s just my game. I will certainly enjoy myself.”

  His brutal smile was blood-stopping. Gazing at his cold reflection in the beveled mirror, he actually admired the evil glint sparkling brightly in his brooding eyes.

  “Yes. This one will be different. This tricky little maiden will reach the utmost pinnacle of fear and pain. My poor lost wraiths will even mourn her torture. Her misery will be epic. Her pain, devastating. She will rue the day she sought to spurn me. Throughout the ages, none will forget the mighty suffering heaped upon this wretched maiden.”

  The Prince’s wrath continued to grow as he spoke aloud to his handsome, intimidating reflection.

  “I will have her. No matter how long it takes, no matter where I have to travel, no matter whom or what is put before me, she will be mine. I will obliterate all that stands between her and me. In the bitter end, she will beg for me, plead for my heart, for my love. I will win her over completely. Then, I will ultimately destroy her. The rest of the world be damned; this maiden is mine. I own her… and she knows it not.”

  *****

  He summoned forth the entrance to his Dark Realm and to the lost souls therein. As the portal appeared, spilling its magical, otherworldly light out into the palace, the terrified screams of his Shadow Wraiths rang about him.

  “Calm yourselves, my loves. Come to me. Be not afraid. I will harm none of you. Come to your master, your perfect lover.”

  Their perverse Prince held his arms out wide as the terrified wraiths slowly drifted toward his cruel embrace.

  “I know you are terribly lonely and tormented in this place, unforgivably so.”

  His black eyes glowed purple within their magical realm. The ghostly shadows of lost maidens knelt at his feet, gazing longingly toward him. He smiled genuinely at each of them.

  “I am deeply sorry to have neglected you for so long, my loves. I vow to you now, this day will be only for you. I shall hold each of you in my arms. If you will but give me the chance to listen to your heart’s desire, I will grant you one favored wish. This I will do to beg your forgiveness for my absence, my neglect. And also, let it serve as a small payment for your eternally loyal service.”

  The wraiths turned their eerie faces toward him, proudly displaying their twisted smiles and haunting white eyes.

  Merodach knew each devoted wraith would journey to the ends of the earth—in the searing brightness of day—if he were but to ask it of her. The sun burned through the mists of what was now their being. The pain was beyond comprehension. But they would lovingly bear it all at a single word from their torturous master and loving King.

  He had been known to use the vibrant sunlight to punish a rebellious wraith from time to time. The light didn’t kill them, no. Only he could do that. But it could certainly make them beg for blessed sweet death.

  These poor wraiths knew full well what their dark master was capable of. But the longing they held for him far outweighed the pain they knew it would cause them. They feared him and worshipped him in the same breath.

  The sadistic Prince of Wrothdem reached out toward the Shadow Wraith nearest him. She flinched, jerking back in fear.

  “Come, my love. Let me grant your wish. As I said before, this day I will make your fondest dreams come true. All you have to do is but speak it. I vow to make it so.”

  The terrified wraith looked around at her lost and damned sisters as they slowly moved away from their demented master.

  “Come, my dear,” he cooed. “You shall be the first.”

  Taking her hand, Merodach pulled her close to him, running his fingers through her glistening white hair.

  “What is it you dream of, my love? You have but to say the word. Name it, and it will be yours.”

  He smiled at her, caressing her hollow cheek with the back of his hand. The remaining wraiths trembled, holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable screams and torture to begin.

  All was silent when the chosen maid slowly opened her mouth, letting only a raspy whisper escape.

  “Chocolates, dear heart,” she said. “It has been so many years since I have known the euphoric pleasure of that sweetest of luxuries. Divine decadence—melting in my mouth, caressing my parched throat. Above all the things I have lost, I miss chocolate the most.”

  The Prince threw his head back and roared with boisterous laughter. It echoed throughout their realm, causing the remaining wraiths to huddle together—trembling, completely petrified.

  “Chocolates? If chocolates are the only thing you wish for, little one, then I shall bestow upon you more chocolate than you could eat in a lifetime.” He turned to the remaining wraiths. “My loves, wait patiently for me. I will soon return. For now, I go to fulfill this lovely lady’s deliciously sweet dreams.”

  He held out his bent arm to the astonished wraith. When her shaky, pale hand latched on to him, they left the Dark Realm together.

  *****

  Merodach summoned the palace chef and commanded him create every delicious chocolate known throughout the kingdom.

  “Prepare your finest. Make all haste, but not at the sacrifice of perfection. They must each be as tiny masterpieces. Deliver them in paramount grandeur to the south parlor. Summon a maid to stand by her side, seeing to this lovely lady’s every whim.”

  The Prince led the giddy wraith to the plush southern room and bade her wait there for her delicious wish to arrive.

  “Stay as long as it pleases you, my love. Eat all the chocolate you can possibly hold. Return to your realm only when your desires have been fully sated.”

  “Gratitude, Master.” She bowed before him. “Whatever you may wish of me, that will I do, always.”

  He gently kissed her hand and left the parlor. The wraith drifted to an overstuffed lounge and allowed her misty form to lie upon it while she waited patiently for her sweet wish to be granted.

  The Prince knew each wraith’s existence was tied solely to him. He knew in his twisted, cold heart their requests would only consist of small favors or trinkets, like chocolate. The thought of the simple wish made him chuckle as he stepped back into the Dark Realm and greeted his former lovers. Each wraith came to him and made her request, and each wish was granted with the utmost of care.

  Their desires ranged from rare gems to fragrant perfumes, from fancy dresses to shoes and the like. One wraith asked to leave the Dark Realm and be allowed to live in a room in the palace. Her master bade her walk the halls, take her pick of any room she favored—save for Lady Margareet’s. If it happened to be occupied, he would remove the unlucky tenant… personally.

  Two other wraiths wished for various freedoms to leave the Dark Realm and roam the castle grounds as they pleased. All their pitiable requests were freely granted.

  One brave wraith asked that her mortal body be returned to her once per month. She begged to spend her magical day lying within her master’s passionate embrace.

  All that was asked of the wicked Prince, he freely granted. Nothing was beyond Merodach’s power. When he returned once more to the Dark Realm, there was but one wraith left
.

  He was extremely pleased with himself. He had found a new way to control and manipulate all the women in his life. The wraiths no longer feared him as they once had. Now, they ran to him, kissed his royal feet, begged to do his bidding in all things.

  Merodach learned a valuable lesson that day. Sometimes, gentleness and kindness—even if insincere—could take you much farther than could torture and pain.

  “A valuable lesson indeed…” He chuckled. “…flies to honey and all.”

  *****

  The last wraith slowly walked into her master’s outstretched arms, softly whimpering.

  “Ahh now, tremble not, my love. I will not harm you.”

  “Gratitude, Master,” she whispered.

  He embraced her withered form, lightly kissing her pale cheek. “And what is it you would ask of me, my love? Tell me your greatest fantasy and I will command it be truth. Make it as grand as you can possibly imagine. I will deny you nothing.”

  The lone wraith withdrew and knelt before him. “Master, the wish I have is a great one, yes. But not beyond your awesome power.”

  “You have only but to speak it and consider it done.”

  Kneeling down beside her, Prince Merodach took his frail former lover’s dainty hands in his and waited, a charming smile painted across his handsome face.

  She looked into his gleaming black eyes, blessed hope swelling within her tightening chest.

  “I-I wish to be restored to m-my former existence, Milord. I wish t-to return to m-my beloved husband and precious little boy.”

  Her request visibly stunned the Prince. He waited a brief moment, certain he must have heard incorrectly. Then, he snatched his hands from hers, staring in amazement. Such a thing had never crossed his mind. How could one of his marked maidens ever wish to leave him? They were tied to him forever, fatefully so. There was no going back from that bond.

  “Once you are marked, you cannot be unmarked,” he snarled.

  The wraith summoned forth her resolute will. “Can my master not grant my wish as he has done with all the others?” She swallowed hard, daring to push even further. “Is it beyond your power, Sire?”

  “Mind your tongue, Crone, or this day will be your last.” His maleficent voice oozed hatred. “Very well. I will grant your wish, as promised. I will restore your body. But as for your beloved family, you will have to find your own way back. Run to them.” He chuckled coolly. “If they’ll even have you, that is.”

  The wraith began to feel her flesh warming around her bones. Her cloudy vision cleared. She reached up to touch her soft cheeks, amazed. Merodach grabbed her snowy hair in his fist, dragging her out of the Dark Realm.

  The pain and hatred on her master’s face was almost more than the stunned wraith could bear. She tried to turn from his acidic glare. Yet he grabbed her chin and stared directly into her awakening eyes.

  “I never wished for your hatred, Milord.”

  “Then you should be more careful what you wish for, Witch.”

  The enflamed Prince grabbed her once withered throat, jerking her upright onto her trembling, unsteady new legs.

  “You could have had anything, anything you so desired—gold, jewels, land, power, kingdoms. Yet, you chose my wrath. You fool. Know you not? You are bound to me, eternally. A magical bond that cannot be broken.” His smile was cold, feral. “If you are wise, Crone, you will spend the rest of your miserable existence hiding from me, living in the dirtiest holes dug deep within the ground. Your prayers should now and forever be… that I do not happen upon you, ever again.”

  “Apologies, Milord. Forgive me. Please, let me live out my days here, as a servant,” she pleaded. “I cannot bear your hatred. I beg you, Milord, please. Do not send me away cursed.”

  Prince Merodach dragged the pleading woman through the palace halls, ignoring her miserable cries. He swung open the castle doors and threw her out onto the expansive lawn.

  “I have granted your wish, Milady. Now, pray to the gods I never see your treacherous face again, or those of your beloved family.”

  He slammed the palace doors, leaving her crumpled upon the finely manicured royal grass.

  “Wraiths, come to me now,” he bellowed.

  The Prince’s enraged cries echoed through those pristine halls. His shadowy witches hurried to his side, ever ready to do his bidding.

  “At first twilight, two of you will wing me to the marked maiden’s door with all haste.”

  Each wraith vied eagerly to be chosen to obey his command.

  “When you have delivered me, you will return here. Now, listen well, for I shall not repeat myself in this. After I have gone, you are to remain hidden from me for seven full days, all of you. Lest my swollen wrath consume me and I destroy you in a blind rage.”

  They answered in unison. “As you say, Master.”

  Two wraiths stepped forward then.

  “We have been there, Master. We have seen the rosy cottage of which you speak. We will take you.”

  “Very well. Be in my chambers at the appointed time. Fail me again, and you will both burn in the sun for those seven full days.”

  They bowed low. “Yes, Master.”

  The Prince ignored their whispered words of praise and adoration as he stormed past the gathered wraith’s prostrate forms and on through the palace halls.

  When I get my hands on that troublesome little girl… He roared loudly, slamming his chamber door. I swear… When I get my hands on her I will…

  *****

  As promised, the chosen wraiths were waiting on his window sill at first twilight. Taking hold of their master’s hands, they swiftly flew to the village of Tamar Broden. After gently sitting their Prince down upon the doorstep of that modest little rose-covered cottage, they quickly fled his presence.

  The future King of Wrothdem took a deep breath, regained his composure, and then politely knocked on the door. When no one appeared, he banged a little louder. Still, his knocks remained unanswered.

  Fury pulsed through him then. With one swift kick, the ancient wooden door crashed open and the fiercely cruel Prince entered Marlise’s humble little home.

  Chapter 18

  Jenevier

  (ZHEN-ah-veer)

  Jenevier blinked twice before she could focus. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up, yawning and stretching.

  “Epona?”

  The horse answered her with an impatient snort.

  “The sun’s near to setting, girl.”

  She yawned again as she rolled up the blanket which had served as her recent bed. Taking the old book from the saddle bag, she once again read the cryptic information concerning Valadrog. When she pulled out the lovingly wrapped little loaves of bread, an old piece of parchment fell out—an ancient map of the Thralldom Mountains.

  I wonder just how much Mrs. Trinken actually saw?

  Jenevier could tell by the path of the sun she was headed in the right general direction. Finishing her sparse meal of bread and wine, she pulled out what few garments she’d taken the time to pack. Laying out some clean clothes, she yawned again before heading down to the rushing little stream.

  The water was cold and refreshing. She’d only dipped one toe in before she heard the eerie howl of an unknown creature. Goose bumps ran over her pale flesh. Opting to forego the bath, she hurriedly packed up her meager belongings and headed south just as the sun began to slowly sink below the horizon.

  There are no established villages south of Tamar Broden. Well, nothing in the direction she was headed. The land is all but deserted until you reach the base of the mountains of Thralldom. Because of this, Jenevier knew she’d be able to travel swiftly. The tradeoff? No real shelter and definitely no protection. She nudged Epona into high gear and let her have the reins.

  The seasons are pretty much set in the land of Ashgard. The weather doesn’t travel, you do. The winds and rains may come and go, yes, but that’s about all. The temperature remains basically the same with only a slight cooling or warmin
g to mark the lunar time of the year. If you wanted to see snow, you had to travel to the extreme northern parts. There were a few villages in the far north and several more in the extreme south. Most people chose to live somewhere in the middle, like the villages of Moorglen and Tamar Broden.

  Jenevier had gone with her parents once to visit the northern village of Ousten. It lay just east of a town called Haven. When she was young, her mother dragged her along to a few different story telling festivals every year. One of these festivals had been in Ousten. She remembered well the bitter cold and would never forget the magic of snow—running around with all the other children, trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue, the occasional snowball fights, and the deliciously warm spicy cider drinks. She had never been to the extreme south, however. Those villages were located past the mountains to which she now rode.

  “Just a couple good nights riding like this and we should be there, girl.”

  The moon was nearly full and the night was cool and bright. The two companions traveled on as Jenevier’s mind raced through a myriad of scenes and emotions brought on by the last twenty-four hours. She let her tears flow freely down her fair cheeks. The fear now twisting her stomach was not fear for herself, no. She was already resigned to the fact that if the Prince or his wraiths caught her out here, then at least no one she loved would have to suffer in the process. These tears were for Jezreel and Jezreel alone.

  Jezreel had been the only true friend Jenevier had ever known. They were inseparable. The two girls connected the first moment their hands clasped during a hide-n-seek game at school. Jezreel grabbed hers and led her to the best hiding spot on the whole playground, a giant hollowed out old winslet tree on the far left side of the yard. They were fast friends from that day forth. They could finish each other’s sentences, always packed the same thing for lunch, and most days they wore the same color—without even planning it. The girls giggled at the same times, thought the same boys were cute, and constantly drove their parents mad wanting to spend every waking moment together. Those were all the reasons Jenevier now cried.