A Dragon's Curse

by Lucy Fear

  “But why?” It made no sense to Maeve. Why wouldn’t the fae use magic? That was their gift from the gods, was it not?

  “Haven’t you noticed how badly the lesser fae are treated in other courts? It used to be like that here,” Rhosyn said matter-of-factly. “The nobles will say that they’re worthless leeches because they hardly make any magic but need just as much to survive as we do. But the truth is, when we all conserve a little, there’s plenty for everyone. We don’t even call them lesser fae anymore, because that implies their lives have less worth than our own. They like to be called nature spirits.”

  It was a lot to take in, but everything about this court sounded so peaceful, so filled with hope, that Maeve couldn’t help but be fascinated. She and Rhosyn talked almost until dinnertime. One side effect of this was that her mind was so full of their discussion, she had little room to feel nervous even when she went back to her room to change. Fenella had picked out another dress for her. This one was purple, and it had a slightly more revealing cut but nothing scandalous. The sleeves were patterned after butterfly wings. Maeve was in love with it even before she put it on.

  Fenella came to escort her to the dining room, and eyed the dress critically. “Butterflies suit you, although the purple doesn’t bring out your eyes as well as the green. What do you think?” Maeve opened her mouth and closed it again. It felt like a trap. But the white-haired fae shook her head even as she took Maeve’s elbow to lead her down the hall. “I promise you won’t offend me, Maeve. If you don’t mind me picking your clothes, I’d like to take your preferences into account.”

  “Well,” she said carefully, “I love the butterflies, and I thought it was amazing how you got the green to match my eye color exactly, but a dress like this is so… out of my experience. I have nothing to compare it to. I don’t even know what’s possible.”

  Fenella looked as if this personally hurt her. “What do the people wear in your court? Please tell me they don’t all go naked.”

  “No,” Maeve said, laughing. Her cheeks hurt. It was… freeing. “Black mostly. Sometimes white and gray. Dresses have ribbons and ruffles but never anything like a flower or butterfly. Somehow, I think my father would find such things abhorrent.”

  “Would he?” Fenella said, her lips pursed in thought. Maeve wondered if she’d given away too much, but then, they entered the dining room. She thought she could feel hundreds of eyes upon her, even though there were only five people at the table.

  “Welcome, Maeve. We’re pleased you could join us,” said a cool, male voice. It came from the man who had to be Lord Aidan, though it was not he, but Lady Rowan at the head of the table. The Lord of the Heavens had long dark hair, left flowing loose down his back, and eyes whose color was too dark to describe. He had a presence that was powerful but remote. Prince Idris, she thought, did not only take after him in looks. Their voices were similar, even the way they carried themselves. Maeve understood why the prince would want to cut his hair.

  “Thank you for inviting me, Lord Aidan, Lady Rowan,” she said, bowing her head.

  “You’re quite welcome,” Rowan said. “Now, that’s enough formalities. Please, have a seat.” She indicated the chair between Idris and Fenella. The idea of being so close to the prince was a little intimidating, but Maeve decided that she wasn’t going to let that stop her. After all, his family had been nothing but kind to her, and she felt she ought to thank him for bringing her, for trying to help her instead of immediately branding her as a criminal.

  He nodded politely as she sat down, but otherwise didn’t speak much. Out of all of his family, it seemed Idris was the quiet one. No one appeared concerned by his silence, and it was otherwise a pleasant and surprisingly relaxed meal.

  Now that she knew about the origin of the food, Maeve paid more attention to the taste of it. There really was something different and more satisfying about the meal. The flavors were much more varied and complex than what she was used to, and when she was full, Maeve felt a warm contentment she hadn't experienced before. Rhosyn, Fenella, and Oisin chattered as they ate, and she occasionally joined in their conversation. Before she knew it, everyone was pushing their chairs back from the table. Maeve turned toward the prince, afraid to lose her best opportunity to speak to him.

  “I… wanted to thank you. For helping me,” she said haltingly. “I know you could’ve just as easily had me imprisoned for trespassing and stealing.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Anyone with eyes could see that you needed assistance. What good would it have done to punish you?” It was such a matter-of-fact attitude that she didn’t know what to say, although she knew, if it had been her father in his position, the result would have been very different. Idris looked up at her face, perhaps sensing her confusion, and winced. “I mean, it was nothing. You’re welcome,” he said, scratching his nose awkwardly before turning and leaving the room. Maeve didn’t know what to make of it, but when she turned around to make her own exit, Fenella was eyeing her with a strange expression.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The day after Maeve attended family dinner, Rhosyn interrupted Idris as he was getting ready to go riding. He could tell by the expression on her face that she was planning something, but he couldn’t yet imagine what. “What do you want, Rhosyn?” he asked irritably. He’d spent the entire morning arguing with some backwoods noble about how they treated their servants, and he was not in the mood for pleasantries.

  “You’re in a charming mood this afternoon,” she said, pursing her lips. “I just came to ask if you want to have lunch with us tomorrow.”

  “What, you and Maeve?” he asked suspiciously. “I hope you don’t have some demented matchmaking scheme up your sleeve. We don’t even know who she is.” Idris couldn’t deny that Maeve was pretty. Her hair was beautiful, and her eyes were striking. But she could be anyone. And furthermore, he remembered how frightened she’d been when they’d found her. It had only been a few days. Surely, she would want no part of his sister’s romantic fantasies.

  “You really don’t trust her?” Rhosyn said, poking him in the arm. In truth, his other concerns were more serious, but for some reason, he didn't feel like discussing it with his sister.

  “I don’t think she has bad intentions,” he said. “But there’s something she’s not telling us. There’s got to be a reason she fled from the Court of Bones. Mother thinks she may even be the daughter of Lord Cian, though, if so, I'm surprised he hasn't made more effort to find her. She was clearly in the forest for a while.”

  Rhosyn frowned. “It’s possible. But I don’t see why it matters. She was obviously being mistreated. Isn’t that a good enough reason to leave?” Idris shrugged, and she shook her head. “I’m not asking you to do anything crazy. Just come have lunch with us. Maybe she’ll open up to you.”

  He doubted highly that this would be the case, but he sensed that his sister wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “I will come to your lunch, but I think you’re going to be disappointed by the result.”

  Rhosyn smiled in a way that made him uneasy. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  He felt unaccountably nervous the next day as he got out of the bath and put on his clothes. Idris rarely paid much attention to what he wore. Nearly everything he owned was silver or white, a conscious choice in his youth to distinguish himself from his parents, and therefore, it all matched, but now he looked at himself in the mirror, pulling at the hem of his tunic, and wondered if he should’ve asked Fenella’s opinion. “Get ahold of yourself,” he grumbled under his breath. “This is just lunch with your sister.”

  Rhosyn had told him to meet her, not in the main courtyard, but outside of the guest wing of the estate, and as Idris walked toward the meeting place, he belatedly realized that they were probably going to Maeve’s room. He didn’t know why he found this fact so arresting, as it made perfect sense, but he did, coming to a full stop in the middle of the hall to mull it over. Someone grabbed his elbow.

  “No c
hanging your mind at the last minute,” Rhosyn said, smiling cheerfully as she dragged him in the direction of the guest wing. “Maeve is expecting you, after all.”

  “I wasn’t going to change my mind,” he said, scowling over at her, but she gave him a knowing look. Idris wanted to argue, but as he was unwilling to tell her what he was actually thinking, he let it pass. They stopped in front of a closed door, and Rhosyn knocked smartly. The door opened a crack, and then wider as Maeve recognized them.

  “Princess Rhosyn, Prince Idris, welcome,” she said, bowing her head as she moved out of the doorway to let them pass. Idris frowned at the formality, and Maeve shot his sister a questioning look.

  “I think we’d all be more comfortable if we could leave the titles and bowing outside, don’t you think?” Rhosyn suggested with a smile. Idris could see some of the tension in Maeve’s shoulders relaxing, though she looked a little unsure as she led them out onto the balcony.

  “There’s no reason to treat us differently than anyone else when we aren't doing our public duties,” Idris said, hoping to put Maeve at ease. “We enjoy the occasional chance to be ourselves outside of the constraints of our titles.”

  “I just didn’t want to offend anyone. Your court is much more informal than the one I came from,” she said, her smile cautious but somewhat relieved.

  “If you heard how people talk about me behind my back, you’d know that I’m not easily offended,” he said, offering her a smile in return. “But this court has a reputation for being somewhat relaxed. My grandfather, Kennet, reportedly only bothered with titles when he wanted to scare or impress people.”

  “Still, this is nothing compared to the Court of Waves,” Rhosyn added. “You’re lucky if you find them wearing clothes. They think we’re terribly stuffy.” Maeve laughed even as she looked scandalized. She had a lovely laugh, Idris thought, high and clear but not forced, and he found his smile widening in response.

  “Under my parents’ leadership, the Court of the Heavens is a more egalitarian place, but it is less wild. Kennet enjoyed his entertainments, especially beautiful women. To hear my mother talk, the fashions of the day were almost as risqué as they were ostentatious.”

  “What happened to your grandfather?” Maeve asked, looking directly at Idris as she poured his requested coffee. “I heard he abdicated, but my brother…” She paused, obviously wondering if she should continue, and he nodded encouragingly. “Well, he seemed to think it was a cover-up of something darker.” Idris supposed that was only natural. The two courts hadn’t been on friendly terms for centuries, and in a place so cutthroat as the Court of Bones, assassination probably seemed much more likely than willing abandonment of power.

  “Obviously, none of us were there. I suppose I was, technically, but I was only an infant,” he added with a smile. “But I believe that Kennet did leave willingly. He was bored. I don’t think he ever enjoyed the responsibility that came with ruling. It’s my understanding that he only inherited because his own father refused to let the line pass into female hands and married off all of his sisters to far away courts before they could even think of getting ambitious.”

  The three courts were, of course, only a fraction of the lands connected by the Otherworld. Every culture had their own mythology, and thus gave birth to their own realms of dream and magic. But Waves, Heavens and Bones, the triad of powers that made up the spirit realms of the British Isles, had been ascendant for several centuries. Only lately, Idris had learned from his father that events in the mortal realm were changing that. It was possible that they might once again be facing a magic shortage.

  They continued speaking on various, less serious topics as they ate a light meal of salad and sandwiches, and then the conversation turned toward the nature spirits and his experiences dealing with them. “It sounds like you’re terribly busy,” Maeve said after several minutes. “Don’t you ever do anything for fun?”

  “I go riding sometimes, to clear my head. I don’t have time for hobbies, unlike some people,” he said, nudging his sister with an elbow.

  “I am researching things for Father, as you know,” Rhosyn replied, rolling her eyes. “We’ve been looking into technology from other cultures as well, to see how they can be adapted to our world. There are many ‘modern conveniences’ in the mortal world that would create more problems here than they would solve, but most humans have been getting along without magic for thousands of years, so there are plenty of ideas out there we haven’t tried. But what about you, Maeve? Did you have any hobbies, back at home?”

  “Oh.” Maeve flushed as if she couldn’t imagine anyone would be interested, but after a moment, she did continue speaking. “I did a little of everything that the young ladies of my court are expected to do. Designing outfits, painting, music, and all that. But the only thing I suppose I really enjoyed out of all that was music. I’ve tried several different instruments, but I think I like the flute best.”

  “If you’re a musician, you’ll have to play for Beltane. It’s just a few days away,” Idris said, the words flying out of his mouth before he really had the chance to examine them. Why had he even mentioned Beltane, the most chaotic and troublesome holiday of the year, when he did everything he could to not be involved in it?

  “But I don’t even have an instrument,” Maeve protested, her expression a mix of horror and interest.

  “Oh, that’s no problem,” Rhosyn said, grinning like she’d received an early Solstice gift. “Idris can take you to the musicians’ quarter in Serenalis tomorrow.”

  “What?” Idris said, not angry but certainly dumbfounded by this suggestion. Didn’t his sister know he had things to do?

  “Well, I’ll be busy helping with preparations for the festivities,” Rhosyn said, her tone reasonable, her eyes calculating. “I know you have once again evaded holiday-related duties, so I doubt there’s anything on your schedule that can’t be postponed until after Beltane.”

  She was right, and with Maeve looking at him so hopefully, he couldn’t bear to even try to get out of it. “I mean, if you really want to go, I’ll take you.” Her bright smile was answer enough.

  *******************************

  Maeve squirmed with anxiety as she waited near the main entrance of the estate. She’d never been to this area before, not wanting to seem like she was trying to escape, even though part of her felt like she should be. She wanted to tell her new friends about the curse; if anyone could help, she was sure they could. But she decided she would wait until after Beltane. Maeve wasn’t entirely sure what the holiday would entail, as it was not one her court had celebrated, or if they had, it was one of the holidays Conall had made sure she avoided. Either way, she was interested to know more. Perhaps she could persuade Idris to explain.

  She had slowly realized, during the time she spent with him, that he was not actually as cold and severe as she had first thought. He was serious and, obviously, a workaholic, but beneath all that, he was kind and sincere, though cautious and awkward, something she suspected he’d inherited from his father. But Maeve had seen the way Lord Aidan looked at his wife, and a part of her couldn’t help but imagine… She shook her head to clear it. She couldn’t even let the thought form fully. It was ridiculous.

  “Is something wrong?” Idris’s voice broke through her thoughts. Of course he would show up just then, looking even more like the handsome prince from a bedtime storybook than he usually did, in a loose white shirt and a blue leather vest. She’d never seen him wear blue before; it made his eyes even more vibrant. His dark hair, usually combed into a neat line, was somewhat unruly today, giving him a pleasingly rakish look.

  “No. Thank you,” she said, a bit breathlessly. “Just daydreaming. How are you today?” she asked, flashing him a smile and hoping he wouldn’t be interested in what she was daydreaming about because she was aware that she wasn’t a very good liar.

  “I am well enough. Are you ready to leave?” he asked, holding out his arm to her. “There is a
permanent gate between here and Serenalis. I thought you would prefer that to riding.” He had asked her yesterday if she knew how to ride. She had felt embarrassed to admit that she didn’t, that, in fact, she had never ridden a horse or any other animal in her life, but Idris had taken it in stride.

  She slipped her arm into his. “Thank you. I am ready.” As they approached the gate, Maeve felt a strong urge to speak further. She wanted to ask him if he would teach her to ride, but she stopped herself. Though she intended to speak with his family about the curse soon, she still had to prepare for the eventuality that, soon, she would have to leave. Or that something even worse might happen.

  So she was a bit stunned when he spoke again, like he’d been reading her mind. “I was thinking, if you would like to learn to ride, I could teach you.”

  “Would you really?” she said, before she could stop herself. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to take up too much of your time. I know you’re busy.”

  “I’d be happy to do it,” he said, just as they stood before the swirling plane of light that was the gate. “I try to go riding every day, and since my family is fond of telling me that I don't socialize enough, this ought to make everyone happy.” It did make her feel better to know that she wouldn’t be bothering him, but at the same time, she knew he was giving up the only time he had to himself to help her out. But there was no time to talk about it further. “We’re about to pass through the gate. Hold on to me.”

  The first time she’d been through a gate was the night she’d been forced to join her father’s hunting party. She gripped tightly to the prince’s arm as the disorienting sensation passed through her whole body, and she remembered the terror on the face of the mortal as he was impaled on her father’s spear, the glassy eyes of the young man as she sucked his body dry. She’d tried so hard not to think about it. When they emerged on the other side of the portal, she fell to her knees, shaking.