The Curse of the Sea

by A. K. Koonce

  “Oh, no. Please, here is fine. It’s a lovely night for a walk don’t you think?”

  “Yes, Princess, a very beautiful evening.”

  The carriage rolls to a stop, the driver stepping around to open my door. A bun of grey hair is piled on her head, the messy strands falling over her face as she lowers in a curtesy.

  “Thank you.” Grinning, I reach for her hand to step out of the carriage. “What is your name?”

  “Miss Bala Sparrow.”

  “Thank you Miss Sparrow.”

  I feel her watch me as I walk away. The soft crunch of the dirt road grinds under my heels as I begin my search.

  Tonight I’ll find what I’m looking for. I refuse to feel like a fool. Again.

  ***

  Three hours. Three hours I sat, waiting for the man who took my money to exit Wilder When Wet. The ridiculous name of the bar should have told me not to trust him.

  Shivers race throughout my body, that’s when I ultimately decide to give up and go in for something warm to drink.

  My cheeks feel bruised from the cold; I can feel where the wind has kissed my skin red. Walking into the bar, I receive less glances than I had the first night.

  Not even bothering to look for the man, I head straight for an empty barstool. The young bartender smiles, her teeth a tarnished yellow.

  “Please, just something to warm me up.” My fingers make a cup around my mouth as I blow hot air into my palms.

  Placing a small glass of amber liquid before me, she states, “This will warm you up. Two of these and, whew, you will feel the heat.”

  Staring at the glass, my eyes narrow. What is this? I roll the small glass between my fingers, examining it momentarily, before I decide to go for it.

  The taste is similar to a tonic the healer has given me before. I grimace as the drink burns down my throat. Settling into my stomach a warmth spreads through my veins.

  “Okay, that was terrible.” A stinging feeling pains my throat as I cough. I frown at the woman for a moment.

  She barks a laugh and pours another.

  “Susak, her drinks are on me,” a gruff voice calls from behind me.

  I turn to see who is trying to buy my affection when it isn’t for sale, only to find the very man I’m waiting for.

  How very kind of him to buy my drinks with my money.

  Shining emerald eyes meet mine. They hold a spark of amusement.

  “So, are you stalking me now?” he questions, his forearms resting on the wooden countertop. Mischief dances behind his gaze, partially hidden under his unkempt dark hair.

  “No, I come here often. Have you really never seen me?” Raising my chin and squaring my shoulders, I return his confident look.

  A chuckle bubbles over his lips.

  “You did much better tonight with your whole … get up and all, but ... you’re still too clean. You don’t have a spec of dirt on you. Your teeth are mesmerizingly white, that skin ...” His rough fingertips brush the back of my hand, “It’s too perfect. Unmarred by an easy life.” His words sound seductive but insulting all at the same time. “You don’t belong here.”

  The fabric of my dress ruffles as I yank my hand free from his touch. Trying to hide the sting of his words, I swallow down the second drink before me.

  “Atta girl.” Susak grins. “And if the drinks are on him. Here is another.”

  “Well technically, drinks are on you” He holds up my coin bag from the other night, mocking me as it swings before my face.

  “Who are you?” I question with stern, narrowed eyes. I lean closer, hoping to intimidate him as I approach his personal space.

  “Oh you wanna get close? I can do that.” Leaning into me, the shadow of his beard is harsh against my cheek when he whispers into my ear. “I wrote the book on scare tactics. Wanna try me?”

  His breath tingles against my skin. Heat radiates through my face but I don’t move. I channel Hazel, smiling into the side of his face. My fingers run up his chest until I’m gripping his strong chin.

  “Answer my question.”

  “Who's askin’? You or Daddy?”

  Does he know who I am? He couldn’t. Is it part of his charade? Just keep it together Wren.

  “Does it matter?”

  He tilts his head at me as if I’ve just asked something ridiculous.

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  I close my eyes and refuse to let the smile touch my lips. “Do you always ask this many questions?”

  He beams. “Do you always go out unaccompanied into dangerous bars?”

  There’s a game forming here. A game he’s good at. But I’m not a quitter. I’ll win.

  “Do you always take advantage of those who do?”

  His smile, that smile, seems to seep into me as he stares at me. “Ledian. Call me Ledian.”

  Finally.

  Rolling my eyes, I turn back to a fresh glass poured before me. Picking up the cup, I turn and stare back at him as the glass empties down my throat. Susak was right. I’m warm now. Almost hot.

  “Well, Ledian, if you would excuse me. I think I might get some fresh air.” Sweat is pooling under my dress. How many layers am I wearing? I stand. My fingers tug at my corset. A hot flash races over my skin.

  The strands of hair that have fallen loose, suddenly become an obvious nuisance to me and I sloppily push them out of my face.

  With confidence I step forward, only for the floor to tilt under my feet. I halt staring at my shoes. What just happened? What’s wrong with the floor? Or is it my feet? I love these shoes. My toes wiggle within my over worn boots as I ponder.

  What was I doing? Oh yes, outside.

  Another step. The floor must not be my friend tonight. Again as my foot went toward the ground, the wooden planks beneath it seem to dance and sway away.

  Ledian’s face comes back into view as he smirks before me. A knowing look crosses his handsome features. “Are you drunk?”

  Drunk. Me? No. I couldn’t be.

  Giggles escape my mouth and I frown at myself, my own lack of self-control.

  “I am not. I am not drunk.” The words circle my head a few more times before I turn back to the bar. “Susak, pour me another. See, I am fine.” I wave my hands before me as if that gesture would persuade him. I plop back into the barstool.

  “Weren’t you going outside?” she says flatly.

  Shut up, Susak.

  “Why would I go outside when I could be in your lovely company?” I retort flashing my fakest smile.

  “No, Susak. That’s enough. I’m not buying any more drinks for her.” Ledian speaks up next to me. Hovering. He’s hovering.

  Snorting, I swivel on the barstool. “You think that stops me? You think I don’t have the money? Jokes on you, I’m rich. I could own this bar.”

  Ledian glances around, at the company that now greedily looks my way.

  “Well, I think you’ve bragged enough. I think it’s time you go home.” He flips a few coins at Susak who snatches them up, her lips turn down unpleasantly in my direction.

  Warmth seeps into me as his hands swiftly close around my waist, pulling me back out of the seat. Have his hands always been this sexy? If his hands are this big ...

  A lazy smile laces my mouth as I try to look back at him. “Where are we going?” I ask, letting him guide me while the floor tries to escape my steps. I lean against his hard chest.

  “Where do you live?” His breath meets my neck.

  “You think I’ll tell you that? You’ll rob us!”

  “Honey, the men here will do worse to you if you don’t leave.”

  The heels of my boots dig into the ground as I stop him in the doorway of the exit. “Are you a good guy?” I ask.

  His lips turn down as he looks at me. For an instant he looks remorseful before his features smooth into his normal careless smile.

  “No.”

  Chapter Four

  Blood Lust

  Wren

  Red flashes
through my vision. Again and again. I can almost see it through the fog. I can almost taste it. The blood, it’s splattered everywhere. Dropping from my face, the crimson drops rolling over my lips until I’m fully aware of the taste of iron.

  The hilt of the cursed dagger pulses with life under my touch. Each finger carefully wraps around it, pulling the blade from her flesh.

  The shock on her features. Green eyes ablaze like lightning. Anger then sorrow quickly flashes through them. My attention drifts over the soft laugh lines that are etched along her weathered skin. Her hair unbound, falls straight down her back, now sprayed with her own blood.

  I step back. So does she. With shaking hands the blade falls, clattering against tile below. Guilt runs rampant in my veins.

  The woman clutches her chest with one hand, the other reaches for the dagger. Light shines off of the blue gem decorating its handle; perhaps a warning that I should run. It speaks to me as it always seems to do.

  Before I can tense my muscles to dash away, she has the dagger, the tip digging against the skin in my chest. With a shuddering breath it sinks in. Right to my heart.

  With a sharp flinch, I’m awake. But my eyes just won’t open. The sound of someone shuffling near me, stirs me. My eyelids heavy as if weighed down.

  With a grunt, my muscles strain, a dull ache pulsing through them as I sit up. Blinking, I shield my watering eyes with my hand. The light in the room burns my gaze. I try to see through it but pain fills my head. Why does it feel like my face weighs one hundred pounds? A wave of nausea laps over me like the ocean against the beach.

  “Oh good you’re up!” A familiar voice greets me. Hazel chews a generous bite of ripe strawberry, most likely left for my breakfast.

  “Hazel, you shouldn’t be here. I’m sick.” Moaning I roll on the bed, pulling the silk sheets up over my shoulders. The smooth bedding gives me some comfort despite the protests of my turning stomach.

  Sputtering a laugh, she rips the blanket off of me. “You aren’t ill. You're hungover.” She slowly speaks, attempting to spell it out to me. “I can still smell the alcohol on you. Get up, drink some water, have some breakfast, and pretend you're okay. Eventually you will be.”

  “No … I … well, I guess that’s what I get. Hand over my breakfast.”

  “I ate most of it waiting for you to get up. I’ll call for more.” Hazel bounces to the door, her steps light against the glossy floor.

  I try to think over the night, my thoughts seem foggy. I’ve never been drunk. Why would someone put themselves through that to end up like this the next day?

  “Hey, how did I get home?” I ask, my palms sweat while my heart resounds in my ears.

  “You, my lovely cousin, are one lucky lady. Miss Sparrow was on her way back to check and see if you needed a ride home and she found you walking down the street with some ruffian. Who knows what his plans were for you!”

  “Ledian. Shoot,” I whisper mostly to myself.

  “Ledian?”

  Hazel sits on the edge of my bed leaning close to me. “Is this Ledian character the reason you’ve been going to nasty bars? Is he a fling?”

  Her lips curl partly with disgust and partly with excitement. She’s a terrible influence.

  “Yes. No. Wait, what?” My ebony hair falls forward into my face as I shake my head. “Just never mind.”

  Her perfect eyebrows shoot up as she gives me a quizzical look. “So you're moving on from the band of brothers?” She pouts, “That’s a shame. I was getting quite fond of that quiet one. The quiet ones are the ones that get you. They save the use of their tongue.”

  A wicked smile kisses her lips as she looks into the distance as if lost in a fond memory.

  “Ledian is nothing. I’m still interested …” Interested in what? The brothers? All three of them? They’re gone, though. Because of me. At least until I can figure this out. “I still like the band of brothers.” I sigh.

  What is wrong with me? Something must be wrong with me to feel this way about more than one person. At one time.

  Roughly I run my palm down my face, trying to wake myself up and push away my confused thoughts.

  “Hmm. You know, not everyone has their life together, right?” We hold eyes for a moment. We’re the same age. I’m more responsible and yet, somehow she always seems to know more than I do. “Life is confusion and anxiety and love and lust and pain. If life was simple they’d call it something different; if it were simple it’d be called death.” Her warm palm skims across my knuckles. I stare at her, not knowing what to say to her profound outburst. She nods to herself, gathering her heavy skirts, “Well, eat quickly. Your father sent over a wedding planner. We have a wedding to plan in less than three weeks.”

  Fantastic.

  Hazel puckers her lips as she exits the room, blowing a kiss my direction. That’s the Hazel I’m used to. The light and fun cousin I’ve known all my life.

  I have to get up.

  With the weight of my limbs, I rip the covers off my legs.

  I take my time dressing. Not an ounce of my body or soul wishes for this wedding.

  As I finally make my way to the small dining room, all eyes fall on me. The room has been filled with bouquets arranged for my choosing. Dishes and cutlery lay out across the table in different shades of gold and silver.

  The wedding planner is a large woman whose blonde hair is piled in endless curls upon her head. She watches me intently as my attention drifts over the supplies.

  “Only the finest for you, Princess.” Her red pointed nails pull at her fine gown as she bows low.

  To steady myself, I take a deep breath before I slightly nod at her. “I suppose I should say thank you.”

  The planner’s burgundy lips shutter into a frown before she catches herself and steps back with a fake smile.

  “Yes, thank you, Matilda,” Hazel drawls as she stands from the table where she looks over beautiful wedding invitations.

  Matilda ushers me to a seat at the head of the table, an honor. The seat where my father would be sitting. She pulls the wooden chair away from the table allowing me to sit as she pushes it in behind me.

  My shoulders stiffen uncomfortably. Tension fills my entire body.

  My view of Hazel is now lost behind endless bunches of flowers. One vase is filled with overflowing crimson roses. Small pieces of baby’s breath peek out within the arrangement.

  They aren’t soft petals, or pretty arrangements.

  They’re red.

  Blood red.

  “I’m thinking, roses. Everywhere!” Matilda fans her arms excitedly. “Everything else white. To represent your innocence, dear Princess.”

  A soft knock on the door draws our attention away from the planner who’s laying out different cloth napkins for my approval. Bala’s normally smiling face appears flat and reserved behind the oak of the open door.

  Clearing her throat, Bala speaks, “Princess Wren, you have a guest. May I announce them?”

  “Yes,” I reply in a vacant tone.

  “Lord Nash Turningten.” Bala opens the door allowing my future husband to enter the room.

  His long legs step through the doorway and my stomach sinks at the sight of him. As if he might insist we marry here and now.

  Today he wears a loose fitting white top neatly tucked into tan pants. A black shine hits his boots as if he’s never worn them outside for even a second. It’s the most casual clothes I’ve ever seen him in, but I don’t tend to spend time with him outside of the castle, either.

  Nash’s cheeks flush as if he is embarrassed to interrupt our meeting. “Good morning, ladies.” He bows at Hazel and Matilda. “I was hoping to seek the company of Ms. Wren.”

  “She’s busy planning your wedding,” Hazel snaps at him, her arms promptly folding across her chest.

  Your wedding. Not my wedding, or the wedding.

  It isn’t mine at all.

  I can see Nash’s muscles fan across his features as he tightens his sharp jaw.
>
  “It will only take a minute, promise.” A forced smile crosses his lips. He extends his hand to me.

  Standing, I make a show of fixing any wrinkles out of my skirt, wasting as much time as possible, before I raise my gaze to meet his. Channeling every ounce of confidence, I reach him and take his grasp.

  He leads me out of the room and into the next where the metal box that we found in his room sits, a blue ribbon nearly tied over it. The dagger that was once hidden within it sends a startling sting into my ankle. I grimace from the pain.

  Oh my God.

  To hide the tremble of a child caught in the act and bound for punishment, I clasp my hands in front of me. “What is this?”

  “This, my dear, this is your engagement gift.” He moves closer, gesturing to open it. “Go ahead.”

  Gulping down my nerves and fear, I pull the smooth ribbon loose. My eyes run over the metal box again and again before I have the strength to open it.

  Reaching in, I don’t feel that same draw I did to the weapon now hidden within my boot. The box is entirely ordinary. There’s no appeal to it. It’s just harsh edges and a simple exterior.

  Just like my betrothed.

  I might be sick.

  With one hand, I hold my stomach trying to calm the storm within, the other hand pulls free a necklace from the metal box.

  A modest necklace with four small silver beads. A larger blue stone pendant lies in the middle. Instantly, I relax. A genuine smile breaking my lips. Relief floods me.

  “Nash, thank you. It’s very pretty.” I try to meet his eyes, try to push kindness into my voice. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Soon you will be my wife, of course I should have.” My heart stumbles from the way he possessively says the word my. He smiles. “Let me help you put it on.”

  I hand off the necklace and stand before him facing away. With steady hands, he brings the necklace to my collar bones. It skims across my flesh. His breath tickles along my cheek. Nash runs his nose up my neck, into my hair, pausing at my ear.

  Tightly, my teeth clench together, my fists shaking at my sides.

  “This has been in my family a long, long time. I’m told the pendants represent the great loves of your life. One for your father, surely, the other three for ... Well, I think you know who they may be … and the last largest pendant for your husband.”