Cursed

by Keri Arthur

  He snorted. “Because no snooty, blue blood bitch is ever going to best me and get away with it.”

  And with that, he charged.

  With little room to maneuver in the walkway’s confined space, I leapt sideways, grabbed the edge of the nearest cubicle, and used the momentum to swing back around. My feet connected with Dravan’s left side and sent him staggering. He recovered his balance altogether too fast, and I’d barely regained my footing when he was coming at me again. I ducked two blows but caught a third on the side of my face and, with a grunt of pain, was sent staggering.

  Again, he came at me. I dropped, twisted around, and hooked a bare foot behind his leg, using his momentum to sweep it out from underneath him. As his butt hit the ground, I swung around again, this time aiming for his head. But he somehow caught the blow with his hands and twisted my leg, forcing me to drop and spin with the movement or risk breaking bone. I kicked out with my other foot, but he avoided the blows and, with a soft chuckle, began dragging me closer.

  I had no idea what he intended, and no intention of finding out.

  As my belly and breasts scraped painfully against the floor, I grabbed my knife then twisted around and slashed at the hands that held me. The razor-sharp blade cut through flesh and bone as easily as butter, severing two of his fingers and cutting my leg in the process. I didn’t care. As Dravan howled and my own blood spurted across both my hand and the knife’s blade, I pulled my leg free from his grip. He tried to grab me again, but the blood that now slicked my skin gave him no purchase. I scrambled upright; he tried to do the same but was far too slow. I kicked him in the face with as much force as I could muster; the blow smashed his nose, shattered teeth, and knocked him backward. As his head smacked against the floor and he was knocked out cold, I gripped my knife tighter, stepped over his unconscious body, and strode toward Kaid.

  He raised his hands and backed away. “Hey, this wasn’t my idea.”

  “I don’t care whose idea it was.” My voice showed little of the rage still flowing through me. “You were here to enjoy the so-called fun, so let’s make sure you do get in on it.”

  I imagined the stone rising up to encase his legs; the earth shuddered and instantly obeyed.

  Kaid’s gaze widened and his expression became one of horror. “What the fuck—?”

  I stopped in front of him, my heart racing and my grip on the knife so strong my knuckles glowed white. Part of me wanted nothing more than to ram the gleaming blade up through his throat and into his brain. To start taking the revenge I’d been denied for twelve years.

  But that was the rage speaking, and I couldn’t give in to it. Once I did, I had a bad, bad feeling I wouldn’t be able to step back.

  “Didn’t the military teach you to never underestimate an enemy?” I said softly. “I warned you all that I wouldn’t hold back if I was attacked again. Did you think I just meant with the knife? Did you think I wouldn’t use all the abilities at my disposal?”

  He didn’t say anything. He just stared at me.

  “I am not any old princess, Kaid. I am a daughter of Bel-Hannon kings, and I have the power of the earth at my command. Next time you try a stunt like this, you can be sure I won’t just stop at stone shackles. Understood?”

  He nodded. My answering smile held no warmth. “Who else knows about this little episode?”

  He swallowed. “Sage.”

  I guess that wasn’t a surprise given her oft-expressed opinion she should have been unit leader. “And have you any idea who told Dravan to call me a trull?”

  “No.”

  I cursed inwardly, but I guess it was never going to be that easy. “Please do feel free to pass my warning on to Sage, or anyone you might have discussed this bit of stupidity with.”

  I stepped back and walked into my cubicle to retrieve the halo. When a voice answered, I reported the incident and requested Captain Marx be sent for immediately.

  Then I went back to check on Dravan. He still had a pulse, which meant he really did have a thick skull. The force with which the back of his head had hit the floor would have killed most people.

  I shackled his legs with stone and then rose and continued on to the shower. Once I’d stripped off my wet clothes, I dealt with the wound on my leg—which, despite the spurt of blood, had rather oddly already scabbed over—and then redressed in fresh clothes.

  The quick tremor of steps vibrating through stone warned me of Marx’s approach. I thrust my knife into its sheath, tossed my wet gear and towels into the laundry chute, and walked out.

  Marx took in the situation and then looked at me. “What happened here?”

  “Dravan attacked me. I retaliated. Simple as that.” I met his gaze evenly. “I did warn him that my blade would taste his flesh if he attacked me again—”

  “Again?” Marx said sharply. “This isn’t the first time?”

  “No.”

  “Why didn’t you report the first incident?”

  “Because neither they nor you would have taken me seriously if I had.”

  He grunted—an acknowledgment that I was right, I suspected. “Is he alive?”

  “Yes. Though that hand needs urgent attention if you don’t want him to bleed out.”

  The amusement that briefly flitted through his expression suggested he’d caught what I hadn’t said—that I personally wouldn’t have minded that particular occurrence. He glanced at Kaid and said, “What’s your excuse for being here, soldier? And before you reply, be aware that we’ll be checking security comms to see what they reveal about the lead-up to this event.”

  Kaid scowled. “It was just meant to be a little bit of fun.”

  “Define fun.” Marx’s voice was flat. Dangerous.

  Kaid shrugged. Though his expression held an edge of defiance, anxiety rolled through his unwashed, musky scent. “We were just going to slap her about a bit. Nothing serious.”

  “Really?” Marx said. “I’m not sure what sort of lowlife raised you, but I personally don’t think slapping any woman about is ‘nothing serious.’ And the military has an even grimmer view of it, be that woman a unit leader or common soldier.”

  Kaid scowled down at the unconscious Dravan but didn’t reply. Maybe he realized he’d only be digging a deeper hole for himself.

  Two medics and a couple of garrison security officers arrived. Marx motioned to the unconscious Dravan and said, “Terryl, Betts, get this man to the infirmary and make sure he’s restrained. Xander, Roland, take Kaid to the brig and lock him up.” His gaze returned to me. “Nyx, release them both.”

  I immediately did so, but as the stone retreated, the ache in my head began. I crossed my arms and leaned my shoulder against the nearest cubicle wall. I needed painkillers, but I wasn’t about to get them until everyone had gone. It was a long-held habit of mine not to show any sign of weakness.

  Once the two men were removed from the room, I said, “Dravan said he’d rather be locked up than fight the Skaran, so I’d like to request he be forced back into duty once healed.”

  “That can only happen if you don’t press charges,” he said. “And it’s not something I’d recommend, given he’ll seek retribution for this loss of face. And next time, he might just use a gun.”

  “Then swap him out to day duty. At least that way, our paths will only briefly cross here in the garrison.”

  “I’ll inform the commander of the situation; it’ll be his decision as to what happens.” He hesitated, his gaze skimming me critically. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” I smiled, and this time it did hold some warmth. “I’m no wilting flower, even if I am a princess.”

  “That is becoming quite obvious,” he said, with an answering smile. “I’ll see you in ten minutes for debriefing.”

  He left. I made my way back to my bunk and sat down. The shaking immediately began. For several minutes, I could do nothing more than breathe deeply. I might be fight-hardened thanks to my brother, but fighting the likes of Dravan—and even th
e Skaran—was totally different to anything I’d done in the practice yards. I knew my brother and could generally predict how he’d react to any given attack. The same could not be said of anyone—or anything—else I was facing out here on the Mauvaissian border.

  And despite my instinctive actions both here and the other night against the Skaran, the thought of battle—of fighting against greater odds—scared the hell out of me.

  As did the thought that that’s exactly what we’d be facing.

  I closed my eyes for a moment and concentrated on the gentle heartbeat under my feet. It was strong and resolute—everything I’d have to be if I wanted to survive what was coming.

  Though even the earth couldn’t tell me exactly what that was.

  The sound of footsteps approaching had my pulse rate leaping again, but I very quickly recognized the rhythm of those steps. Donal, not another attacker.

  He stepped inside the room and then stopped when he saw me sitting on the bed. His gaze scanned me, moved briefly to the floor, and then returned. “What the hell happened here?”

  “Dravan.” I pushed upright. All the bits that had been aching before the fight flared up again with renewed vigor. “I asked Marx to transfer the bastard to day shift.”

  He didn’t step aside as I approached, which forced me to stop. His gaze dropped to my cheek and concern flitted through his expression. “Is that the only wound you came away with?”

  He brushed a thumb against my cheek, his touch gentle and oh-so warm. At any other time—with any other person—I would have stepped back. I didn’t like unwanted contact—hadn’t for a very long time. But for some reason, the highlander didn’t set off my instinctive need to protect myself.

  “It’s just a bruise—”

  “Actually, it’s quite a bit more.” He showed me his thumb—blood smeared his skin. “I’d get some antiseptic on it—who knows what sort of diseases a parasite like Dravan might be carrying.”

  I half smiled. “He won’t be carrying anything for a good while. Not after losing a couple of fingers, anyway.”

  “It’s a pity you didn’t chop off the rest. It might have cooled his thuggish tendencies.”

  “I doubt it, given he’d still have his feet.” I pressed a finger against his stomach, hitting muscles that felt like steel. “You, highlander, reek. Can I suggest a shower before the debriefing?”

  Devilment sparked in his eyes as he stepped back and waved me past. “I’d love to have a shower with you, Princess. Shall we go?”

  “Idiot.” I squeezed past him and walked across to the broom cupboard. “Has either the commander or Marx said anything about our journey to the dead lands?”

  “No.” He started stripping off as he followed me down the walkway—something I heard rather than saw. “I rather suspect they’re waiting for that storm to hit before they give final approval.”

  “And what does the wind think of this delay?”

  “That every day wasted takes us deeper into danger.”

  I grabbed the mop and bucket out of the cupboard, and followed him into the bathroom. “What of the storm? Can’t you create one or at least hasten its arrival?”

  I handed him the bucket and he placed it under the tap to fill it. “I can, but it’ll drain me. I’d be next to useless for hours.”

  I frowned. “Is it just summoning storms that has that effect?”

  He shook his head. “It varies depending on what I’m attempting, and the level of control required. A gale force wind that tears apart everything is far easier to create than an isolated thunderstorm.”

  He handed me the now full bucket and then stepped under the shower. I watched the water run down his muscular body for several seconds and then mentally slapped myself for doing so. “Meaning using the earth is likely to affect me the same way?”

  “Possibly.” He grabbed a fresh bar of soap and offered it to me. “Care to wash my back while you’re standing there?”

  “Only if you don’t mind the tail end of the mop being used, because I have no intention of getting wet again.”

  “Really?” he said, and lunged toward me.

  I yelped and ran backward, sloshing water up my legs and across the floor. His laughter followed me out the door.

  “Idiot!”

  The comment was met by yet more laughter. A grin tugged at my lips, but it quickly faded as I remembered just how little fun or teasing there’d been in my life up until his arrival into it.

  The king and my brother really did have a lot to answer for.

  By the time I’d finished mopping up Dravan’s blood, Donal was dressed and ready to go. We made our way to the mess hall and—rather unsurprisingly—found Marx and the other unit leaders waiting for us. Once we’d updated the Daywatch on everything we’d seen or heard during our patrols, Marx placed a dusty cylinder on the table in front of us. The label on the side said they were maps of region 9B-7. “Donal and Nyx have been assigned a mission into the dead lands to track down the source of possible activity.”

  Celi frowned. “Why just those two? Getting past the Skaran is dangerous enough, let alone stepping into those godforsaken—”

  “You forget I’m an air mage,” Donal commented. “The Skaran won’t even see me.”

  “Which doesn’t explain the princess’s presence. No offense meant, Nyx, but you’re not battle-hardened, let alone trail-seasoned.”

  “True on both counts, but I’m not there for either. I’m there because I can manipulate the earth.”

  She blinked. “You’re an earth mage?”

  “And it gives me an advantage over the most seasoned soldier.”

  “Huh.” She glanced back at the captain. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Keep an eye out for usual activity—or lack thereof. If these two are to get back safely, we’ll need to keep them updated on any situational changes in the Wild Lands.”

  “The Wild Lands is one thing,” Tal said with a frown. “How the hell are you going to get through the Skaran grasslands without being spotted? Even at the narrowest point, you’d still have to traverse a hundred miles of Skaran territory; if nothing else, that gives rise to the ration problem.”

  “Not for an air mage, it doesn’t,” Donal said calmly. He glanced at the captain. “When are we set to leave?”

  “At four this afternoon. The storm should be well underway by then, and that’ll give you plenty of cover. I suggest you both sleep until then.”

  Especially given the point that—in an unknown land—a good night’s sleep was likely to be a commodity we could ill afford.

  “In the meantime,” Marx continued, “have you any recommendations for your temporary replacement?”

  “Nash,” I said instantly. “He seems the most levelheaded and also appears in tune with his Sifft heritage.”

  Marx nodded and glanced at Donal. “Margreet,” he said instantly. “Tough as nails but sensible.”

  “Good.” He glanced at his watch. “We meet at the external gate at three forty-five. Armory will have full kits ready by three thirty. Now, let’s all get down to the business of breakfast.”

  The full kit was damnably heavy, and I couldn’t help but wonder if my legs were going to stand up to the weight. Which, undoubtedly, was the thought of a sheltered princess, not the warrior I was trying to be.

  At least my pack wasn’t as heavy as Donal’s—he was also carrying a pulse rifle, extra ammo, and a number of pomegranates. Which, despite the name, weren’t fruits filled with sweet but crunchy seeds, but rather powerful fragmenting explosive devices.

  As we fitted more specialized halo devices that would allow us to be tracked for a greater distance than the regular ones, I said, “Did you get a chance to look at the map this afternoon?”

  He nodded. “There were two lots—the first ancient, the second a partial overlay developed from the blue hawk flights.”

  “Anything of note?”

  “Only that the blue hawks’ flights didn’t get anywhere near t
he areas that restrict the air.” He half shrugged. “There’s mention of a large city on the old map midway way between the Skaran border and the volcano, but there’s no indication of what might lie between that and the volcano. Either they have simply never mapped the area, or there is nothing beyond it.”

  “So we’re going in blind?”

  “Into the two restricted areas, yes. But the wind can help us everywhere else.”

  When I raised my eyebrows, he grimaced and added, “I suspect our investigations into the restricted areas will lead to other questions—like, if we do find life, where does it come from?”

  “A question I suspect won’t be easy to answer.”

  “Hence my request for additional supplies.”

  “So you’re the reason this goddamn pack is so heavy?”

  “Indeed,” he said cheerfully. “Consider it my contribution to building up your strength and stamina.”

  I snorted. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  “Anytime, Princess. Anytime.”

  We headed out into the rain and the wind and walked across to the gate. Not only were Gallego and Marx waiting under the metal awning that jutted out from the gatehouse but also Marttia and her two red-garbed guards.

  “Are you still sure this mission is vital?” she said, as we came to a halt in front of them.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Donal said. “The wind cannot see beyond whatever protects this threat, so we have no other option.”

  “Then may the gods favor you.” Her gaze came to mine. “Be careful out there.”

  “I've spent the last twelve years being careful, Marttia. I'm not about to abandon that now.”

  She raised an eyebrow at the edge in my reply but otherwise didn’t comment.

  “Captain Marx informed me of the attack in your quarters and of your request that both men be transferred to day duty,” Gallego said. “I’m afraid that will only give them more opportunities to cause problems, something we cannot afford if an attack is coming. They’ll be sent back to Divona to serve out their full sentences in prison. I’ve requested replacements from military stock, not prisoner.”