Curse and Whisper

by A J Gala

  He left her, crouching forward as his body started to twist and bend and grow. In seconds, his normal shape had been consumed by his animal shape. The brilliant silver direwolf didn’t look back before leaping down into the forests below.

  Stormy raced through the dreary, damp streets of Suradia. He did not stop for anything, not for a rat scurrying to dry heights in the gray morning and not for a tempting puddle. He followed the scent like there was nothing else in the world. At first, he had loved all the new faces in his home, but now there was nowhere he could go for respite. All he really wanted was to curl up on his favorite person’s bed, but they kept Tizzy’s door locked nowadays.

  The scent became strong. He was close. His paws came to a stop in front of a tall, three-storied building. He whimpered and sniffed the air again, but what he had chased down so relentlessly was gone. The trail was dead.

  Then, his ears perked up. Crying. He whipped around in a new direction and took off, splashing through puddles down the street. Only a block away from the building, he found Alor crying in an alley.

  Stormy barked at him and leapt with joy.

  “Oh! Stormy!” He cried louder, now with relief. “Stormy, I wanna go home! I wanna go back with Ro to the elves and to Raph! I hate it here!”

  The only comfort the dog could think to give was rubbing his nose all over the boy’s face. Alor didn’t smell right, though. Something was wrong with him. Stormy whined.

  “I don’t know how to get back to the queen’s house. Look how dark the sky is… and it’s wet, and it’s cold… where are we? I’m never going to get there!” He cried more, and it was unyielding. He shook, sniffled, and coughed, and then Stormy butted up against him, trying to herd him out of the alley.

  “Do you know the way, Stormy?”

  He barked and nudged him again until Alor finally started to follow, but it was a long walk for someone with such short little legs. Stormy knew the boy couldn’t make it without help.

  “That man made me leave.” Alor hiccupped. “I don’t think he’s the queen’s brother. He can’t be. He’s so mean. He made me promise not to tell anyone what happened, but I think I can tell you.”

  They got several blocks closer to House Hallenar, but Alor was tired and slowing down. Stormy whimpered and barked. There had to be someone else around at the early hour, someone in town who could help them. But the streets were empty. The rain was cold. The wind was whistling. Stormy howled.

  Something else howled back. Frantically, Stormy howled again, over and over, until he could hear a person’s voice, two sets of hooves, and the wheels of a cart.

  “Alright, alright, we’ll check it out, gods! Ember, I said we’re going! Quiet down, already. You’re gonna wake up the whole town like that!”

  Stormy knew the voice of the young man who was headed their way, and his tail took on a life of its own, wagging wildly. Alor held onto him, not sure what else he could possibly expect out of his nightmarish excursion. The cart came around a corner, led by two mules. The wheels were slippery on the wet cobblestone. Alor couldn’t see much of the man in the glum morning, and especially not from under the cloak he wore.

  “Hold on. Stormy? Is that you? What are you doing all the way over here?”

  Stormy barked happily, and the man’s dog barked back.

  “You know the queen’s dog?” Alor asked.

  The man laughed. “Sure do! But that’s not the queen’s mutt. That’s Lady Tizzy’s! Can’t imagine that ol’ ice queen will be very pleased with you, Stormy, rolling back up to House Hallenar a soaking-wet mess!”

  “I never met Lady Tizzy.”

  The man leapt down. “She’s something else. You headed back there with the pup, little guy?”

  “Yeah. I’m Alor.”

  “Nice to meet you!” He picked the boy up and put him in the back of the cart. “I’m Tye, and that big lady back there is Ember.” A muscly black and tan dog barked at her name. “Pardon all the fish. This weather is perfect for catching redcarp at the creek just outside the West Gate. Come on up, Stormy! Let’s go!”

  Stormy obeyed, situating himself next to Alor, and Tye jumped back in the driver’s chair with the reins. The two mules set back to the street, and Tye changed their route.

  “So, Alor, how did you get all the way out here if you’re staying at House Hallenar?”

  “I…”

  He knew he couldn’t tell the truth. Rhett had made him promise. So what could he say?

  “There were people everywhere, but I wanted to go outside, and I got lost.”

  “Don’t feel bad, I do that all the time!” Tye laughed again. It was a fun, comfortable laugh that made Alor much less nervous. Rhett had a different laugh. He knew the difference between them now.

  “Are you friends with the queen?” Alor asked him.

  “We do business!” Tye answered. “House Hallenar buys from the store my mother and sisters run. If it’s my turn to run the stall in the marketplace, sometimes I see whoever the queen sends out to make the purchase.” He sighed and then chuckled. “It used to be Lady Tizzy, mostly. The queen was trying to get us together, I think. I didn’t mind. I was a little smitten with her. So pretty and tough, and she worked hard just like the rest of us. But she didn’t care for me too much. I don’t know, maybe I smell like fish. If that’s the case, I guess I can’t blame her.”

  It wasn’t a long ride to House Hallenar. Alor was too tired to come up with much else to say to Tye, and it was more fun to watch the dogs bark at things outside the cart. By the time Tye pulled up to the front steps, Alor was fast asleep. He carried the boy to the door and announced himself with a barking Stormy and three loud drums of the knocker.

  “Well, pup, I sure hope someone is awake to let you two in.”

  Athen opened the door, face groggy from the lack of sleep, and then gasped. “Alor! Rori, hurry, it’s Alor!” He rubbed his eyes. “Wait, Tye, is that you?”

  “Lord Athen! Good morning. Sorry to bother you so early, but I found this little one wandering the streets with Lady Tizzy’s sidekick. Thought I’d bring him back.”

  “Thank gods! Come in, please. We’ve been tearing the place apart looking for him since he disappeared.”

  Tye obliged, and Athen closed the front door behind him. Rori came sprinting into the entry room and scooped the boy out of his hands.

  “Oh gods, Alor! Where was he? The poor thing is soaking wet!” she wailed.

  Tye took down his hood, revealing a rough but handsome tan face and a head full of dark, wavy hair. A shallow scar on his cheek cut through a fine layer of stubble. There was a smile in his hazel eyes as he regarded Rori with a nod.

  “Found him southeast a ways. Not much over there, really. About five or six blocks from some inn. The Coronet? Clarinet? Lil’ guy wandered all the way out there. It’s a good thing he had Stormy looking out for him! She raised you right, pup.”

  Stormy barked and leapt at him, his tail still wagging.

  Tye patted him on the head. “How is the ice queen, anyhow? Haven’t seen any of you in the marketplace lately, but Ma said Queen Allanis and her Council were at the square recently. Honestly didn’t realize you all even had a Council…”

  “Ice queen?” Rori’s jaw dropped. “No way! Does Tizzy know you call her that?”

  Athen grinned. “No, she does not. And Tye, Tizzy is, um…” He cocked his head and looked up, as though he were looking for actual words. “Tizzy is on an adventure right now. She finally got a break from House Hallenar. She’ll be back eventually, and maybe she’ll even have a fresh new take on life! She could use it.”

  Tye nodded. His smile was glowing. “I’m happy for her. But I guess I’d better be off and stop fouling up the place with my lovely bouquet of fish and wet dog. Good night, my lord, my lady!” He gave them each a curt bow and left.

  Rori stood there, green eyes wide, still holding a passed out Alor who was starting to get heavy in her arms. “Goodness. What a nice man. I can’t believe he fou
nd Alor so far out there! We’re lucky for him.”

  Athen was trying to suppress a laugh. “He tried so hard to court Tizzy.”

  “Really? Fish and wet dog aside, he is way too good for her.”

  Lazarus had heard the commotion and found his way to the entry hall just as Rori was leaving. He looked down at the boy in her arms.

  “Someone found him?”

  “One less thing to worry about!” she said. “Poor guy is probably going to catch a cold, though.” She watched her brother’s face twist. “What is it?”

  “Something’s not right with him.” Lazarus stared at Alor’s small, drenched, exhausted body. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but the air around him felt like it was being swallowed up, bit by bit, by something vile. It made Lazarus’s stomach turn. “You don’t feel it?”

  “I—” Rori stuttered and blushed, “—I just thought it was all of my dread piling up at this point. I’m sure you can imagine it’s out of control these days.”

  “Watch him carefully, Rori. And no matter what, be patient with him.”

  Rori held him tighter. “I don’t understand. Of course I’ll be—”

  “It feels a little bit like it did back then. Back when we were—” he took a deep breath, trying to pick his words, “—when it was with Tizzy and Aleth.”

  “You’re sensing something Forbidden?”

  “Yes. But not in the same way.” He didn’t want to worry her and tell her it felt daemonic. “Keep him content and be kind to him no matter what your gut tells you. We can’t turn on him the way we did them.”

  Rori nodded and took Alor back to her room.

  A young elf poured Anavelia’s tea with trembling hands. The steaming green liquid sloshed around the queen’s red porcelain cup. After a moment, a few errant leaves settled at the bottom, and the girl stepped back, tucking a long lock of blonde hair behind her pointed ear. It was done. She hadn’t spilled this time.

  Anavelia inhaled the hot steam, picking up notes of toasted rice. The girl had prepared her favorite.

  “Thank you, Lishe.”

  The girl’s ruddy cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink and she bowed. “Anything else I may provide, Your Grace?”

  Anavelia’s dark-eyed gaze turned to the window in her personal dressing den. Through its gauzy fuchsia curtains, she could see the afternoon in Saunterton—rainy and windy and glum. It perfectly echoed her heart.

  She clutched her satin robe and readjusted her posture, sitting straight-backed on the plump red cushion at her low desk. Then, she gestured to an ivory-handled brush on the floor beside her.

  “My hair, please.”

  Lishe set the kettle on the desk and sat behind her queen, sectioning off Anavelia’s black hair before she began her task.

  “Would you like braids today, Your Grace?”

  “No, not today. Thank you.”

  There was nothing in the queen’s voice. No soul, no fire, no wit. She sat still and quiet, staring at the rain as Lishe took the brush to her hair. The room was full of empty-faced mannequins in stunning gowns that Anavelia no longer wore, and she couldn’t help but feel just like them with each passing second.

  As she took the first sip of her tea, there was a knock.

  “My queen?” It was Orin’s voice. “May I come in?”

  Anavelia rolled her eyes. “You may.”

  The Duke of Davrkton entered, sweeping the door wide open to announce himself. She did not look back at him.

  “Why have you hidden away here today, my lovely queen?” he asked. “We have missed you around the keep!”

  “You have not,” Anavelia grumbled. “I’m sure you are the only one who’s noticed.” Just out of reach on her desk were several leather-bound tomes with scarlet pages and titles in a foreign language. She longed to go through them as she had been doing all morning but stayed still, trying not to betray any more emotion than she had to.

  Orin came around to the other side of the desk, facing her with a freshly shaved face full of smiles.

  “And what if I was?” he asked.

  She glared up at him. “Are you going to ask me for something?”

  “Privacy, perhaps?” His stare fell to Lishe.

  “Fine. Lishe, you are dismissed.”

  The girl stood and reached over to set the brush on the desk when Orin beckoned for it. She placed it in his hand and hurried out.

  Anavelia sipped her tea. “Alright Orin, you have my undivided attention. What do you want?”

  She had been told so many times to send him back to Davrkton. Her advisor, Master Otes, didn’t trust him, and her little brother just flat out didn’t like him. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t much like him either. Or so she kept telling herself. But some days she would get lost in his charm and in his big blue eyes that were as deep as the sea.

  “I want to be around you,” he said, coming around to sit behind her. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

  It was. It had never really felt like Orin was on her side, not fully. The bristles of the brush hit her hair. She tried to let out a deep breath as he gently pulled the handle but couldn’t find relaxation.

  “Why would you want that?” she asked, dubious of his answer. “Hm? What with this terrible mood I’ve been in? You’d be better off staying away like everyone else.”

  “Yes, but why are you feeling this way?”

  She didn’t answer, too stuck in the inner debate of whether or not she should. Orin continued running the brush through her silky, straight hair, patient with her as ever.

  He cleared his throat. “What are those books in front of you? All those brush strokes… that’s your native language, isn’t it?”

  She smiled without realizing. “Yes. Shimaranese. These are mine and Ash’s memory books from back home.”

  “Wait—” Orin paused. “I thought you and your brother were from Kasatta.”

  “Well, we are, but we were born on the Shimara Tail. Then taken to Kasatta, given Kasatti names, but taught both languages. When I took Ash and ran to Mirivin, we shed our native names, and I gave us new ones so that we might fit in a little better.” Then, she laughed. “Our heritage is one of Ash’s favorite things to flaunt. He’d casually mention that we were Shimaranese, then someone would say they thought we were Kasatti, then he’d yell, ‘It’s not like you would be able to tell the difference, you uncultured knob!’ Oh, Ash…”

  Orin nodded. “So, this is about your brother.”

  “I miss our old names. All the time. He never really got the chance to grow into his. I used to be called Lei Jiayi, and he was Lei Feng Mian.”

  “Jiayi,” Orin tried it. “It’s very pretty.”

  “I’m just so worried about him! Orin, he hasn’t written to me. Is he just busy, or is something wrong?”

  “Well, there is a lot of work for him to do on Allanis’s Council,” he said. He did not like that the conversation was leaning to Suradia. To the Hallenars.

  “I had to take Sinisia off the search for Aleth Hallenar. I know we had decided it was important, but it didn’t feel like the right thing to do, especially not with Ash there. I know you were upset about it.”

  Orin sighed and ran his fingers through Anavelia’s hair. It was true. And he’d tried desperately to convince Sinisia to do it anyway.

  “How I feel about it is irrelevant,” he told her. “You are the queen.”

  “When she reported back to me, it felt like she was holding something back. I should have her come back and tell me everything! No detail spared!”

  He grinned a little half-grin and gave Anavelia back the brush. “This is merely a suggestion, Your Grace, but I think you should take today off. Otes and I will keep the insignificant matters away from you while you rest.”

  Anavelia turned and looked at him as he stood. “There was really nothing else you wanted, Orin?”

  There were a hundred things he wanted, but none that he would get. He gave her a curt little smile.

  �
��I was just worried about you,” he lied. “I want you to be well. I will send Lishe back with more tea.” He kissed her cheek and left the room, letting go of a tense sigh when he was in the hallway.

  He kept true to his word and sent Anavelia’s cup bearer back, then headed to his own study to drink in private. The games they played with each other always set him on edge. But he just couldn’t quit.

  The study was quiet and a bit musty. Fake letters from his sister were strewn across his desk, their real sender King Mabus in Vandroya. With a heavy sigh, Orin plopped down on his sofa with a glass of whisky and prepared to go through them.

  Then, a knock. Six times, two sets of three.

  Sinisia’s knock.

  Orin scrambled to his feet and opened the door, looking the petite, dangerous elf woman up and down. The Master of Dusk did not meet his eyes.

  “I wasn’t expecting you,” he said.

  “Orin, we need to talk.”

  There was suddenly a deep pit in his stomach. Nothing good ever came out of those words. He beckoned her inside and closed the door behind them.

  Sinisia could sense Whisper Magic all around them. The room was full of secrets and full of Orin’s attempt at masking them. She hoped she knew what those secrets really were, but Orin couldn’t be trusted. If tossed to the sea, his secrets would sink him faster than stone.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “That’s what this is about, right? Something is wrong?”

  Sinisia swallowed hard and toyed with a lock of her silver-white hair. “Does King Mabus have any intentions of releasing my father? Has he mentioned him in his letters to you at all?”

  The pit in Orin’s stomach deepened. He couldn’t afford to let his expression slip.

  “He hasn’t made up his mind yet.” He shrugged and wore a smile for her, one stuffed with sympathy and hope. He was good at feigning faith, but if anyone could see through it, it would be Sinisia. “However, he says your father is being well cared for.”