The Curse of the Sea

by A. K. Koonce

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Elven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  About Nikki Hunter

  About A.K. Koonce

  The Curse of the Sea

  The Curse of the Sea

  Nikki Hunter

  A.K. Koonce

  The Curse of the Sea

  Copyright 2017 A.K. Koonce & Nikki Hunter

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN-13: 9781979971867

  ISBN-10: 1979971862

  Cover design by Take Cover Design

  Editing by Proofreading by the Page

  The content of this book is protected under Federal Copyright Laws. Any unauthorized use of this material is prohibited. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without express written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidence.

  To the amazing readers who love these cursed mermen.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One – Princes Long Gone

  Chapter Two – Witch Hunt

  Chapter Three – Drink. Drank. Drunk.

  Chapter Four – Blood Lust

  Chapter Five – Unlikely Friends

  Chapter Six – Enchanted Reality

  Chapter Seven – A Princess and a Thief

  Chapter Eight – A Friend

  Chapter Nine — Magic

  Chapter Ten – Normal

  Chapter Elven – A Proper Introduction

  Chapter Twelve – Nice Guys Finish Last

  Chapter Thirteen – Just the Three of Us

  Chapter Fourteen – A Beautiful Bride

  About Nikki Hunter

  About A.K. Koonce

  Chapter One

  Princes Long Gone

  Cohen

  Goosebumps form along my forearms as I shuffle in the cold, damp cell. Dirt and debris clutter the stone floor where my feet shift. We’re still in our dress clothes from the ball—the ball held in our family's honor—what a joke that turned out to be. My brothers and I now restlessly sit under lock and key.

  “Enjoying your stay?” Nash Turningten purrs. His fingers draw a careless line through the dust along the bars of the cell.

  The beat of my heart echoes in my ears as anger boils under my skin.

  The crimson color coating his nose isn’t nearly as satisfying now as it was when I punched him.

  “What do you want?” Pushing myself away from the wall, I stand before the man who single handedly put us into this predicament.

  Cormac rises from the dirty stone floor, fisting his hands at his side, while Cason growls from his seat in the corner.

  “Guard, open the cell.” Nash motions to four guards to follow his ridiculous lead. As if his feeble frame could cause any one of us harm.

  Cormac winces at the nasty sound of the hinges whining as the door opens. Cason jolts upright at the presence of multiple guards in our already crowded prison. Cason’s big, intimidating. He’s too kind for his own good, but the guards don’t need to know that.

  The armed men don’t use any mercy as one grabs me by my wrist, the other yanking me down by the scruff of my hair at the base of my scalp.

  “Eat shit, Nash!” Cormac steps forward only to receive a swift elbow to his gut.

  “Cormac, it’s fine.” My teeth clench while I spit out the words.

  Cormac laughs, a slow sneer crawling across his lips.

  He just never knows when to quit.

  “It. Is. Not. Fine.” Cormac’s eyes flash in unbridled anger before his dark hair flings back, his skull colliding with the bridge of the guard’s nose behind him.

  Heavy boots sound against wet stone as more men usher into the room, wrestling him to the ground.

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I sit kneeling before Nash. His laugh strikes every chord in my body. My jaw ticks, my glare resting on his thin face.

  How did I even end up in this situation? I came here to end a curse and now we’re imprisoned.

  The sick thudding sound of someone being kicked repeatedly is heard behind me and then I hear Cormac groan. He’s smaller, leaner, but he doesn’t act like it. Those guards outweigh him by a good twenty pounds each. He never knows when to just shut his mouth.

  My eyes slowly close, my teeth grinding hard as I think through how the fuck to get us out of this shit hole.

  When I open my eyes, Nash lowers himself, balancing on the heels of his boots. He’s eye to eye with me. A sneer twists his features, emerald eyes blaze into mine.

  “Wrenley has been sent away for a little while. Until our wedding that is.” He pauses to enjoy the scowling look I give him. “I just want you to know,” he pulls a small knife from his belt, his fingers toy with the glinting tip of the blade, “while the three of you rot away down here,” he leans into me, a tormenting laugh accompanies his whisper, “I’ll be taking real, real good care of your princess.”

  Something inside me cracks, the calm energy that always holds me together builds into a rage and I lunge for him. He teeters, stumbling back until his shoulders hit the bars of our cell. The guards keep a tight hold on me from behind and I breathe hard as I struggle against them.

  Nash grips the knife, his pale knuckles turning even whiter. As he stands, his lips curl up and just when I think I couldn’t hate him anymore, he brings his right leg back and swings it up. His shining boot hits me hard, my head flipping to the side. My teeth jar from the impact. All I taste is hot blood flooding my mouth.

  A chiming song begins, an older, slow, sorrow-filled melody that I haven’t heard for years.

  “So, we’ll sing us a song of princes long gone.” The easy tone starts off calm and quiet, confusing me all at once. I can feel the melody swirl around us. Settling into us, scurrying within our skin and mind.

  Cason’s voice caresses the room, drifting along the walls, seeping into my mind, saturating the old stone work of the castle. The words hold meaning, but worse, they hold power.

  One by one, the guards halt their movements. A glassy look overtakes their eyes. Stiffly, the guards step away from me, away from Cormac and slowly they leave the room entirely.

  “What are you doing? Get back here!” Nash cries. They ignore his protests as they march single file from the cell down a long hall.

  Nash stands gaping. Only the sound of their boots echoing down the corridor is left in their wake.

  A smirk touches my lips, my head still hanging low. The sticky feeling of blood running down my lip and chin reminds me of what he just did. It reminds me of what he’s done, what he will do.

  Gradually, I lift my head, my eyes locking on his. The proud and arrogant demeanor he held just moments ago is lost, replaced with a look of pure fear.

  Cormac lies on the floor behind me, clutching his ribs, his face smeared with dirt and blood. Cason kneels at his side, his large hand holding his brother's shoulder.

  I rise and Nash stumbles back from me, his thin limbs no longer clinging to that composure he always seems to have.

  I want to kill him. I want him to know he threatened the wrong people. He threatened the wrong princess.

  My fists are held tightly at my sides as I glare down on hi
s sniveling fucking frame. Logic carefully fills my mind and I shove my aggression aside.

  “Cason, Cormac, let’s go.”

  Cason’s dark eyes hold astonishment as he stares at me in disbelief. I ignore his look.

  If I hurt this piece of shit, I’ll never see her again. Her father will lock her away into her royal life even more than she already is.

  Cormac’s arm is swung over Cason’s wide shoulders as they stand and walk to my side. My jaw’s strung so tight it hurts. I give Nash one more hatred filled look before exiting the cell.

  My back is to him and I hope, for his sake, I never see his face again.

  A clanging sound shakes through the bars and I turn in time to see Cason smash Nash’s face into the cell door. The skinny man lands on the wet floor with a thud and I raise my hands from my side as I stare at Cason in disbelief.

  Cason holds my astonished gaze.

  “What?” Cason asks and Cormac shoots me a bloody, but approving smirk.

  “I expect better of you, Cason.”

  “You’re smiling an awful lot for someone who’s lecturing me right now.”

  I bite back the smile, my eyes closing slowly. My shoulders fall with a tired feeling settling over my body.

  The three of us sneak into the dead of night with more worry than we held when we first walked into the palace over a month ago. We thought only our lives were hanging in the pendulum.

  Now we have Wrenley to protect as well.

  If we ever see her again …

  Chapter Two

  Witch hunt

  Wren

  The bedchamber is smaller than my one at home. Everything here is different. This place feels like a home almost. There are no guards. Hazel flits about this castle and does whatever her little heart desires. Then when she returns, her parents actually want to hear what she did with her day. And she tells them. The truth! It’s bizarre and … nice. It’s really nice here.

  And yet my stomach is in knots, twisted so tightly I think I might vomit.

  My protests were drowned out by my father’s ruling voice. He said if I wanted to act like a child he’d put me in a time out.

  A time out a hundred miles from home.

  I lie on Hazel’s guest bed. My room is a guest room. None of the furniture, decor or paintings are my own. For the next few weeks anyway.

  Until the day of my wedding to Nash Turningten.

  My eyes burn with moisture and I close them tightly, refusing to let the tears slip down my cheeks. I clench my jaw and breathe hard. I won’t break beneath the life they’re pushing me into. I stand abruptly from the soft bed, my skirts swooshing behind me as I stride across the room.

  I’ve been here for days alone. Hazel’s parents insist she finish her lessons as normal. Her parents said her cousin living with her isn’t a reason for her to be an uneducated woman.

  So I’m alone.

  I’m tired of wondering how the Ryken brothers are doing; how much they’re suffering because of me.

  What if they don’t fix the curse in time? The sea witch said they needed me.

  Why? And how did she know?

  My boot’s carry me soundlessly through the long halls. I pass Hazel and slip my arm into hers, surprising her as I drag her off, away from her school work. She shoots me a mischievous smile, pleased with my change in attitude.

  The cold dagger stings my leg, reminding me of its demanding and cursed presence. I slip on a dark cloak, the soft material caressing my skin as it wraps around me.

  If I’m going to be wasting my life away here, I might as well try to save theirs.

  ***

  My cloak shadows my face as I tentatively stare toward the dirty pub door, watching drunkards stumble in and out. Wilder When Wet is the busiest, grossest bar around. The smell of alcohol and body odor greets me from where I stand just across the street. I stand hidden under the shadows of a nearby tree. Hazel fidgets at my side, the hem of her dress skimming a small puddle below us.

  “This is definitely it,” she says pulling her silk red cloak away from her face, her nose crinkling.

  “What are you doing? Keep that up!” I pull at her hood trying to cover her perfect features.

  Hazel frowns and pushes my hands away. “I have a face to be admired, Wren.” She winks at me. “Why do you want to come to such a place anyway?”

  I asked her to take me to the busiest pub in our kingdom.

  Pubs are a place for drinks. They’re also a place for gossip, secrets, and a place of surprising knowledge if you find the right person.

  “Who are you to turn away from a good adventure?” I counter.

  She looks at me skeptically, rolling her eyes and steps towards the bar. Her green skirt sways with her confident steps and I jog after her, mimicking her movements.

  In the bar, it’s dimly lit with a thick layer of slime covering the old floor boards. My boots stick as I turn to get a good look of the place.

  If I’m going to find a witch or someone who can find me a witch, it’s got to be here. Point me towards the deepest, darkest corner.

  Hazel has already left me to find a drink. Or company, I’m sure. I raise my chin and head to the back of the building. A series of booths line one wall where the lighting is dimmer and the crowd is more ominous.

  The last booth catches my eye. One man. Alone. Alone is good. I’ll start there.

  Squaring my shoulders, I march off toward him. As I inch closer, I find myself tugging on my hood to keep my face shielded. I shudder at the thought of what Daddy would do if he caught wind of my presence here.

  He isn’t here, though. And I’m an adult; a Princess.

  I can handle myself.

  The man sits with his hands clasped before him, staring ahead. When I step into his view, his emerald eyes peer up from under his midnight hair. Without asking, I take a seat before him.

  The splintered wood bites into my thighs as I settle into the shabby seat.

  “I’m in the market for someone to perform some ... services for me,” I muster, pulling out a small velvet pouch filled with my father's coins. The money clinks together in a harmonious noise that draws the attention of the stranger across from me.

  Gripping the bag, my manicure digs into the cloth. The stranger smirks, his half smile revealing a dimple underneath his chin as he tilts his head back and laughs.

  “Look lady, you don’t seem like you are from these parts and if you're looking for someone to warm your bed, well, the prostitutes are usually on the street.”

  Oh. Not what I meant.

  Biting my lip I try again. “No, no. I need someone to find someone else for me.”

  “Like a missing person?”

  “Something like that.”

  He leans forward, extending his hand for the coins. Nodding, I push the bag eagerly into his palm. Our fingers brush for only a moment and I pull back quickly. Peering into the bag, he winks and pockets the change.

  “I can’t help you,” he answers before settling back into the booth.

  My lips part, my brows pulling tightly together.

  “You what? You just took my money.” My voice rises as I dig my nails into the grain of the dirty table.

  “Ah, ah, ah. Now sweetheart, I wouldn’t raise your voice if I were you. You're drawing attention. If too many of these poor folk see you traipsing around here with that expensive dress and jewels, they might rob you on your way out. You should be thanking me.” He crinkles his nose sarcastically, the dark eyelashes brushing his cheeks.

  He’s handsome in an arrogant way. In a way that makes me want to slap him more than admire him.

  “Since you took the coin, the least you can do is point me to someone who can help.” Gritting through my teeth, I stand up from my seat, brushing dirt off my dress.

  “Ain’t nobody gonna help you around here.” He grins. Leaning forward he props his chin on his fists. “Who are you looking for anyway? Prince Charming?”

  Anger boils beneath my skin. How
dare he mock me!

  “I need a witch,” I hiss.

  A serious look flashes in his eyes, something that I don’t miss, before his laugh deepens and he shakes his head at me. “No, no. Go on home.”

  Growling, I turn on my heel, stomping toward the bar. Hazel is laughing and going on to a group of guys she has under her spell.

  A glimmer shines in their eyes as they watch her every move.

  A man with salt and pepper hair grabs her around her thin waist, pulling her close. She frowns, pushing away but doesn’t escape his arms. The men around them—nothing short of grease balls—laugh while she struggles to get away.

  Each step I take is a mission as I let the rage propel me forward. I crunch Hazel's captor’s toes under my boots.

  The man drops her as he yelps in surprise. Taking my chance, I pull Hazel away and give the group my best glare.

  The glare of a princess is well practiced and I know I wear it well.

  “Don’t you dare touch a woman without her damn approval.” Pushing my cousin through the crowd, I leave the men behind but I feel there gaze burn across my back.

  Did I just do that?

  Internally, I clap for myself and my bravery. But I still have no leads for a witch. Only a pair of sticky boots and one pissed off Hazel.

  Chapter Three

  Drink. Drank. Drunk.

  Wren

  With Hazel’s parents constantly attending business, they don’t seem to find time to check up on me. Tonight, I plan on taking advantage of that, again. My parents would think they were foolish for not keeping a more watchful eye. I think they’re a blessing.

  Hazel could be at my side if she wasn’t busy “cleaning her room” which I took as code for “I have a date.”

  Tonight I’m wearing a much less formal gown, something I borrowed from one of Hazel's maids. My hair is neatly braided to one side, no jewelry to threaten its perfection.

  “Princess, would you like me to drop you off at the entrance?” The driver asks as our carriage slows near the front of the bar. Her face dragging down in weighted wrinkles, even as her lips reach upward in a polite smile.