by Jill M Beene
It was a cheery thing, this curse.
The scholars conferred and agreed that the curse should have been broken by the fae princess’ death. But it lingered on, outliving its mistress. Some said that it was a curse with no end, that it would go on forever as punishment for the Crown Prince’s arrogance.
Samiris could not be one of the Chosen. She could not, because if she went to the capital for six months, who would take care of Tamrah and her father? Who would chop down the trees, milk the cow, keep the fires going? There was money in the coin jar, sure, but not enough to keep them fed and warmed through winter.
The mile down the lane was fast, the wind ripping her hair free from her braid, tears forming at the corners of her eyes from the blinding speed. Samiris focused on the destination, on what she needed to do when she reached safety. The pounding of the hooves and the whistling wind were background noise to the confusion roiling in her brain. If she could get home, if she could talk to father, he would know what to do.
She was in sight of her home, now. The stone manor sprawled along a bluff high above the ocean. Samiris thought that the ancestor who built it had been trying to prove something, had been trying to build an estate large enough to make people forget that the Orellana family had made their initial fortune in dubious trade in the back streets of the Leirian capital city of Teymara. With its huge stone turrets, massive windows overlooking the ocean, and the three-story tall dining room, it had always been too grand.
Considering their current circumstances, the house was downright ridiculous. Samiris had thrown sheets over the finer furniture and abandoned most of the house to mouse and moth. Without servants to tend the ornamental gardens, an overgrowth of vines had crept over the great house, a variegated green shroud that covered the facade.
CHAPTER SIX
Before she had time to properly collect her thoughts, she was guiding the flying Behemoth into the stable yard. She yanked on the reins, threw herself down from the saddle, and burst through the kitchen door. There was a royal guard there, younger than the others. His surprised face was accompanied by arms outstretched to stop her.
Without thinking, Samiris reared back and punched him in the nose. She felt the cartilage break beneath her fist, saw the blood spurt, saw the soldier wince and reach for his injured face, but she was sprinting past him up the backstairs to her father’s room.
“Father!” she yelled, opening his door.
Odan was waiting for her, sitting near the fire, his chair turned toward the door with a blanket over his lap. He looked calm, despite her tone and disheveled appearance.
“Samiris, darling. I take it the Royal Guard found you?” His voice was clear, not strained by shock as hers was.
She was out of breath. “Yes, they found me. What do you know about this? You don’t seem surprised.”
“Come sit, my love,” he said, gesturing toward her chair by the fire.
“I can’t sit. They’re right behind me!”
“Oh, Samiris. What did you do?” Her father smiled.
“Nothing,” she said, but even she could hear the defensiveness in her tone.
Odan raised a graying eyebrow.
“I might have stolen the Captain’s horse to escape,” she grumbled, her eyes raised to the ceiling.
Her father tipped his head back in laughter. The clear sound set old memories running free in Samiris’ head, as if rare sound was the key to their jail cells.
“Most women would think it’s an honor to be Chosen,” her father said, gently.
“Most women are blithering idiots,” Samiris said, pacing in front of the fireplace. “Judging by your reaction, I suppose I have you to thank for not receiving any of the summons?”
“I was going to tell you,” he said. “But I didn’t want a cloud hanging over you for months. Being your father, I had an inkling your reaction might not be as enthusiastic as the Crown Prince would hope.”
“And why should it be? A woman dies every year because he couldn’t pacify a fairy princess with a crush on him.”
“Twenty women are chosen every year. Only one dies. You will be one of the nineteen who survives. Think of the opportunity.”
“The opportunity? The opportunity to leave here and let you and Tamrah starve to death while I participate in that sham of a beauty pageant?”
Samiris felt close to tears. She had been so certain that her father would be on her side, that he would think of a way out. Yet here he was, trying to persuade her to go. Trying to persuade her to enjoy it.
“We will not starve. Samiris, if your mother had lived...” Odan paused to collect himself. “You would have had a lady’s influence as you became a woman. I tried, but due to our circumstances, you were forced to forgo a formal education and many of the other gentling influences that a girl should receive.”
“Father...”
“Not only that,” he said, holding up a hand to silence her. “You would have had the opportunity to travel, to socialize, to attend balls and cotillions, things of that nature.”
“I don’t care about those things!” Samiris shouted. “I am needed here!”
“I wouldn’t stop the summons even if I could,” Odan said firmly. “It is time you see something other than the forest, the village, and this house. I’m only sorry I could not provide the opportunity for you to go under more palatable circumstances. This time will also give you a chance to reconsider your arrangement with Kalan.”
“What do you mean?” Samiris said, her forehead wrinkling.
“Do you think I don’t know that you don’t love him?” he demanded. “I may be an invalid, but my mind is still sharp. I know my own daughters. This arrangement with Kalan is a bad idea. You don’t love him. You don’t even respect him. It will be my everlasting shame if you marry a man out of duty to this family because I cannot care for you as I ought.”
“Don’t say that, father.” Samiris could no longer hold back her tears. She was tired, hungry, and her emotions were worn as thin as the threadbare rug beneath her feet.
“Go to Teymara,” her father said, gently. “Soak up the sights and sounds of how this whole country used to be. Read in the palace library. Make new friends. Get fat on pastries.”
Samiris hiccuped a laugh from beneath her tears.
“What about you and Tamrah?” she asked.
“We will be fine. You’ve stacked a mountain of wood, and I have a few things squirreled away for when times became truly hard.”
The door slammed open, and Captain Trego strode in, chest heaving like a blacksmith’s bellows. His face was bloodless white with rage, the veins in his neck and temples visible. His mouth was curled into a feral snarl.
“You,” he said, his eyes locking onto Samiris with reckless danger in their depths. “You horrible, wretched...”
“Captain Trego,” Odan said, his eyes hard as flint. “Choose your words wisely. My daughter is a lady and I will not have her spoken to like that in my presence.”
Captain Trego’s wild eyes looked back and forth between Samiris and her father. “Your daughter stole my horse!”
“I know what she’s done,” Odan said, warning still flashing in his eyes.
“Did she tell you about holding a hatchet to my neck or breaking my man’s nose, too?” he snarled.
Odan glanced at Samiris, who felt the sudden, pressing need to look out the window.
“Regardless,” Odan said. “My daughter was completely unaware of the letters sent to her by the royal court. Her reaction was understandable, given the circumstances.”
“Understandable! Understandable? Your daughter is a lunatic!”
“Calm yourself,” Odan said. “My daughter is high-spirited, nothing more. I should be asking you how a young lady was able to abscond with your war horse. That situation could have been a serious danger to her.”
“A danger to her?” Captain Trego repeated incredulously, running a hand through his thick black hair.
Samiris wondered what had happened to his shiny helmet. She hoped it had fallen off in a mud puddle. She hoped it was dented.
“Yes. I hope that you show more care for her well-being during the journey to Teymara.”
Captain Trego paused, his nostrils flaring. “Oh, don’t worry, my lord. I will be keeping a very close eye on your daughter during the journey to the capital.”
He gave a formal bow, one which Odan returned gracefully, considering he was seated. However, Captain Trego came back to standing quickly, and without Odan seeing, gave Samiris a look of such unbridled loathing that Samiris regretted her actions. A little.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Samiris could barely sleep that night, tossing to and fro in her sheets as if she were a ship on an unruly sea. Captain Trego’s words, spoken in a monotonous tone in her father’s room while he avoided eye contact with her, echoed in her mind like the tolls of an executioner’s bell.
A carriage would arrive in a few days’ time to pick her up and bring her to Teymara. The carriage had been sent south to pick up another girl first. Samiris didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry that someone with an even harder life than hers had been Chosen.
The South was freezing deserts of sand and snow banked in drifts against nearly impassable mountains that stretched to the frozen sea. There, the sun shone brightly as if through a magnifying glass, but the blinding light was not enough to warm the ground. Southerners carved their houses into the vertical mountainsides and then formed ice bricks and built greenhouses of the translucent material.
Even before the curse had descended, the Southerners had been considered odd, almost fanatical, in their way of life. Their dress and customs were different, their religion was mystical and strange, and they shunned many of the modern conveniences that would have made their difficult way of life more bearable. After the curse, life became nearly impossible; the Southern wastes were the furthest from Teymara, and therefore were the hardest hit.
The Chosen ring, a token given to every Chosen lady to help identify them as official guests of the Crown Prince, felt strange and weighty on her hand. Samiris didn’t know what to make of the fact that the second she slipped it on her finger, her constant stomach ache had vanished. Dawn had not yet broken when Samiris conceded defeat and got up to dress.
She gave a quiet snort of derision when she saw Captain Trego’s prone form on the floor outside her doorway. A pillow was bunched beneath his head, a blanket pulled over him. It looked like he had been there all night. He apparently hadn’t believed her curt assurances that she would not try to run away. His face looked relaxed and handsome in sleep, his eyelashes two dark fringes of sable against his cheeks, but that only irritated her further.
Samiris did not know whether it was the situation or Captain Trego himself that made angry rebellion simmer beneath her skin like a pot of water set over flame. She had only been getting up to start the porridge for Tamrah, but now she had a much different idea. With the practiced silence that only came from years of stalking animals in the forest, Samiris eased her bedroom door closed behind her and stepped around Captain Trego’s sleeping form.
Tamrah was already awake when Samiris tapped gently on her door. They made their way downstairs to the kitchen, and out the door, the cold morning air helping to wake them. Samiris paused in the garden to pull a bunch of carrots from the tilled earth, shaking the dirt off then dunking them in a bucket of water sitting next to the well. She filled her canteen and ducked into the stables, careful to avoid the guard sleeping in one of the stalls.
Samiris didn’t bother saddling Behemoth; she just bribed him with a carrot, slipped a bridle over his head, and led him outside. Once mounted, she pulled Tamrah up to sit in front of her. Samiris enjoyed riding the great charger much more than she had the night before. Without a saddle, she could feel the warm muscles working below her. She admired the evenness of Behemoth’s gait, and let him set his own pace, noting that he preferred a fast gallop above anything else.
That was fine with her. Samiris already felt like she was careening at a breakneck pace into a future she hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. She might as well match the feeling with actual speed. Tamrah didn’t complain. She seemed to understand that Samiris needed to get away. The ocean views were more precious this morning, more beautiful. The crisp sea wind blew past Samiris’ face, drying the tears she didn’t even know were falling. She was glad that Tamrah couldn’t see her.
She guided Behemoth carefully down the sandy trail. He had no problem keeping his footing, even with the two girls on his back. Once in the small inlet, they dismounted and let Behemoth loose. This stretch of beach was about a quarter-mile long, and surrounded by bluffs on every side. It was their favorite spot to come because of the thousands of tiny pink shells that washed up here. The outsides of the flat shells were matte, but the undersides were iridescent, catching the sun’s light and reflecting it back in a glittering pink glow that dazzled the eye.
Samiris and Tamrah sat side by side on the sand, facing the ocean. The breeze played with their hair, curling wisps of it up and away from their faces. Samiris inhaled the familiar scents of brine, water and sand, and let the rhythmic roar and whoosh of the waves soothe her enough so that she was able to speak.
“Did father tell you what’s happening?” Samiris asked.
“You’ve been Chosen. You’ll be leaving in a couple days.”
“I’ll try to come home as soon as possible.”
“Why would you do that?” Tamrah said, turning to study Samiris’ face.
“I belong here, with you and father.”
“Don’t you see, Samiris?” Tamrah said, breathless. “You could do it. You could make the Crown Prince fall in love with you.”
Samiris scoffed. “He’s had twenty maidens a year for fifteen years pass in front of him. There’s no way that I’m going to catch his fancy when all those powdered, trussed-up Northern nincompoops have failed.”
“Maybe that is why they have failed,” Tamrah said. “Maybe he has been waiting for someone with a good head on her shoulders. Someone with some depth.”
“I don’t have depth, Magpie. I am a very simple person. All I want is for us to have enough to eat, for us to stay safe, and for Father to get well.”
“That’s it!” Tamrah cried, shaking Samiris’ arm, her eyes alight with excitement. “Don’t you see? When the curse is lifted, Father will get well! The disease is too progressed for even the tonic to be of help any longer. It’s the only way! You could be the one to do it.”
Samiris looked down into her sister’s face, a face fairer than hers in every sense of the term, one that was currently contorted with desperate hope.
And that is what finally did it.
“Maybe, Tamrah,” she said, putting an arm around her sister.
“Promise me,” Tamrah said, her voice urgent. “Promise me you’ll try.”
“I promise.”
Behemoth came and stood behind them, whuffling toward Samiris’ belt where the carrots were stored and nudging her shoulder with his massive snout. She pulled a carrot out and fed it to him; his soft chin tickled her as he snuffled and crunched the treat from her hand.
They watched the sun continue its rise over the ocean, sighed as it reflected off the beach, then Tamrah stood. “I’m going to walk back to the house. The cow needs milking.”
Samiris started to rise. “I’ll come with you.”
“No,” Tamrah said. “Stay. You won’t see this view for awhile.”
“Do you want the horse?”
“It’s not far. I’ll walk.” Tamrah gave her a quick, fierce hug, and turned toward the trail.
Samiris tucked a couple of small iridescent shells into her pocket as a keepsake just in case. Then she lay
back into the sand, and began to sort facts and feelings like they were pieces of silverware that had been put away in the wrong spot.
If things were as they used to be, if there were no curse, would she want to see new places? Would she want to go to the capital? If she didn’t have to marry to secure her inheritance, who would she marry? Would she marry at all?
For a few blissful minutes, Samiris imagined a world where her family was strong, upright and whole. A world where the servants hadn’t left them to fend for themselves, where there were plenty of crops in the fields, where there was a surplus of gold in the coffers. Of course if that were the case, she would want to see everything she could. And she would never, ever marry Kalan. She would marry for love, or not at all.
She sighed, sat up, and offered another carrot to Behemoth. This is why she didn’t like thinking about impossibilities... it made it that much more difficult to face reality. Like stepping out into a sunny glare when her eyes were used to the dim, the hope of a better future made her head hurt. Behemoth nudged her again, and she chuckled and patted the side of his massive head.
“Why do I get the distinct impression that my horse likes you more than he likes me?” The sound of the ocean had covered Captain Trego’s approach.
Samiris stood and dusted her trousers off. “Why wouldn’t he? I’m a likeable person.”
Captain Trego faced her, his muscular arms crossed over his wide chest. He raised his eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s it. I think that he senses a kindred soul within you, another wild spirit refusing to be tamed.”
Samiris laughed. “Captain Trego, I think you are reading too much into it. He likes my carrots, not me.”
He tilted his head to the side, regarding her carefully, like she was a complicated chessboard and he was trying to avoid checkmate.
“What?” she finally asked.
“I’ve never seen you smile before now.”
“Is it any wonder, considering the circumstances? You dragged me away from my dinner last night, yelled at me in front of my father, and you think I would have cause to smile at you?”