The Cursed (The Cursed Trilogy Book 1)

by Iyanna Orr

  “Why did you bother to remember things about me?” he asked. No matter how low his voice came out, it echoed loudly in the room, making the servants cringe. Zafrina sat back down quickly, and there was zeal in her eyes.

  “Because you’re my son,” she answered. When Chandler’s eyes narrowed under lowered brows, she raised her hands in a motion of surrender. “I know. I know I came by that title in a way that gives you every right to hate me, Chandler. But then you told me the thing I so wished to hear, ‘we don’t have to hate each other.’ And I realized I want you to love me like this—” She gestured to the silk deep purple gown she’d worn to the feast and the crown on her head. “—just like you loved the woman named Elizabeth who you called mother.

  “I know I was horrible to you, and I did far too many things I wish never happened, but it was only because I was separated from Legacy.” Her eyes searched Chandler breathlessly, but he turned away to glare at the almond still clutched between his fingers. “The connection I have with this place is strong because of all the magic and time I’ve put here over the last thousand years. Being on Earth, where it breaks all ties to the magical dimensions and planets, made me lose my head. Most times, I didn’t know reality from fantasy, and I am sorry I took it all out on you.”

  Chandler didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to, and she seemed to sense it as he dropped the almond back into the bowl. It was immediately whisked away, and when Chandler looked up, the tables were cleared, and the servers had made themselves scarce.

  “Please just think about it… and good luck,” she added as she stood and carried herself from the room.

  As soon as his mind was fully awake the next morning, it drifted back to Zafrina and stayed there. Barely noticing as he did it, Chandler the thick stack of clothes from the foot of his bed and moved over to the tub of water resting in front of the burning fireplace. Staring down into the water, he watched the steam created by the chill that met the water’s surface. Then, his eyes refocused, and he stared at himself in the depths.

  Chandler could vividly recall the moments when Zafrina had been a real mom. He was young then, less than six years old, but he could see the memories, in perfect detail, of taking the trips they took to the park; spontaneous road trips that carried them all the way across the country to visit theme parks. She would sing to him, lullabies and songs he knew he’d never hear again on Earth. Zafrina had opened herself to being a mother, after murdering his real parents and kidnapping him, because she’d wanted him and the life all of that entailed. When she’d killed them, Chandler didn’t think even she understood what it meant to raise a kid, especially not one like him. But it was obvious now. And back on Legacy, where she could hold herself to a higher standard and think clearly, she was fighting to take back the control she’d had when she began raising the little boy with purple eyes. Back then, she was always smiling.

  Standing in the castle that is the symbol of their control, Chandler couldn’t bring himself to believe this was something she wanted when she was born.

  Shaking away his thoughts and the image of her, he welcomed the bath he was finally able to take. Taking off the clothes he’d been wearing since Monsil, he dropped the dirt-encrusted material on the floor and stepped into the water. It flowed over him, covering him and erasing the signs of imperfection on the outside. Once Chandler was settled, he did his best to spread his wings and hang them over the side of the tub. The edges dug softly into the fragile skin, but it wasn’t painful; merely uncomfortable. So, he left them there and immediately picked up a hand full of water, splashing it over his face.

  The water was enough to wake him more. Chandler rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up straighter, beginning to wash the grime from his skin with the cloth he’d discovered hanging on the side. It slid away easily, and he silently wished all his problems would vanish the same way. He scrubbed his skin until it was raw and red, accepting the pain as he stood and immediately found the towel warming near the fireplace. Wrapping it around his waist, he brought over a footstool and dragged the mirror to him. Settling himself onto the stool, he stared at his wings in the mirror and grimaced when he noticed he could barely see through the blood and dirt caked on.

  Slowly, he picked up the cloth and began running it over his wings carefully. As he did, he felt the bones shift as the feathers grew silky with water, causing the cloth to slide even faster. He ignored the water running onto the floor and gazed steadily at his wings as the grime was washed away. Chandler’s muscles clenched and contorted as he wrapped the wing around him, bringing it into easier reach.

  And he realized, cleaning his wings in a place he would rather not be, he was content. Despite where he was, his family was full for the first time. He’d rather push away the reality of what had changed since they’d been in Washington, and accept that no matter the circumstances, his family was all together. Chandler knew he was just running away from a war he hadn’t even known was happening, but Max and Michael had gone to him on Earth just expecting him to be fine with being dragged into it. They’d so easily assumed he would be fine coming to Legacy and starting a war that would get thousands killed, including himself. All he wanted to do was settle into a routine in which he didn’t have to save a planet he’d barely been on for a week. He wanted to stay here, in the heart of Legacy, and accept Zafrina and Drake because they were the only parents he knew. And maybe, Chandler decided, that was all Zafrina wanted; to have a family with the boy she’d raised.

  Overwhelmed, Chandler breathed out heavily. Looking away from the mirror, he quickly cleaned the other wing and went to lie down in bed. Staring at the ceiling, he was weighed down by the need to tell them that he just wanted to stay. But even if he did, he had something to prove; a tournament to win. Then maybe he would tell them. Chandler fell asleep imagining it and did not see the werecat, who appeared in the chair at the far side of his room, tears in her incredulous eyes.

  He woke again to reality with the annoyance of a knock at his door. The armor resting in his arms had been on the other side, delivered by a small serving boy who’d run off soon after. The armor was a mark of high status though the crest of the planet was nowhere to be seen. Replacing it, though, was plain black cloth, descending into a cape that just barely brushed against the floor behind his feet. With only a few minutes until he was to leave the room for the tournament, he pulled the chainmail over his head. With only his face clearly viewed, he turned into just another soldier. He stayed in the mirror, breathing slowly and evenly to calm his heartbeat.

  Nodding once, he turned and left the room. As he did, something forced him to a stop. A pressure consumed his body entire body, making his hands clench and his teeth grind together. Finally, he could push himself away from the wall holding him and keep going. Chandler stalked down the halls of the castle, a sudden surge of energy running through his veins. His thoughts were wild, consumed as his body worked overtime to contain the adrenaline. His fingertips tingled, and he clenched his hands to stop them from rising as they were attempting to do. Chandler felt like his head was going to erupt, and a groan escaped his lips as he came to a quick stop, leaning against the wall. A hand touched his shoulders, and then the ache was gone. He turned to look.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding rueful, but her eyes were sharp and ready. “This had to be done. You need to be prepared for whatever Drake is planning.”

  “What did you do?” Chandler asked through clenched teeth. Her hand dropped, and the throbbing was starting again.

  “I opened the wall so you could access your magic, Chandler,” she answered. He groaned and resisted banging his head against the wall. “You should’ve been able to get to it when your body started changing,” she added. A confused look overcame her expression, and he took that chance to grab her hand. For whatever reason, her touch made the headache recede, and he sighed in relief at the release. “No!” she said, and then yanked her hand away. “You need to get used to it. Once you’re used to it, it sh
ould get better.”

  “I have to go outside and fight in a tournament in less than four minutes,” Chandler ground out through his teeth. “How long is it going to take for it to stop?”

  “I don’t know. But you need to get out there. I have a feeling Drake is waiting for you.” And then she disappeared without another word. A string of profanity escaped Chandler’s lips in her absence, but he couldn’t move from the wall. Thinking that maybe she was right, he stayed there until the ache had become a dull roar; then, he pushed himself away and started down the hall again.

  As he went, he went through the map he compiled in his memory when Zafrina had taken him to see the castle. He knew the stairs that wound on both sided of the hallway, going down and straight into the courtyard where the tournament would be taking place. Just as he could see them, they appeared in front of him, and he started down. The pain in his head was beginning to fade, but the stiffness in his neck wouldn’t go away as easily. His wings moved on his back, resting higher against his back than he was used to. He couldn’t even bring himself to force them back down, who when he stepped into the courtyard and onto the field, he could hear the buzzing chatter of the citizens who’d chose to attend.

  Chandler’s eyes rose, looking upon Drake and Zafrina standing in front of their thrones, looking down at him with mixed expressions on their faces. Zafrina looked slightly worried while Drake was only curious enough to gaze back at him for a few moments before turning away. Then he lowered the queen onto her throne and called for silence, his voice carrying over every sound.

  The knights began to fall in line around Chandler. Involuntarily, his body tensed until he felt that a single touch would spring him. The feathers of his wings were the only movement that came from his body, and his breaths were quick and shallow. He was surrounded, with rows and rows of soldier lining up around and behind him, nearly filling all the space available in the courtyard. It had felt like hours before they stopped moving and from the looked on the faces of the crowd, Chandler knew there had to be hundreds of knights. He tried not to dwell on that when Drake began speaking.

  “My kingdom has prospered for over three thousand years. We’ve seen death, war, miracles, and evolution. I have created a kingdom all of you can be proud of and raised soldiers that are our fighting force. The knights of Legacy deserve the opportunity to prove to all of us they are worthy of the titles they’ve been given. That chance has been given to them in the past, allowing past generations to feel safe under their protection. And today, with this generation, we give them the chance to prove their loyalty and worth again.

  “And so, for the first time in nearly two centuries, a tournament is being held here today, except this tournament is not simply for the knights. No, today, I also honor a new addition to our royal family.”

  Just then, everything became clear once again, and Chandler’s head snapped up to level a glare at Drake. Any thought he had of staying was chased away, his hopes of normality destroyed. Drake wasn’t looking at him, but there was a sadistic curve to his lips that told Chandler the man was very much aware of his gaze. But when his eyes flickered over, Zafrina was watching him, and there in her eyes was a practiced look that said she had no idea what was happening. Chandler didn’t believe it for a second. His teeth snapped together behind his closed lips, and he didn’t notice the pain in his head was gone. It had been their plan all along. They wanted to get him here and keep him as a pawn in their brutal game of chess. Just like the people, Chandler was simply a piece to make the king and queen look good standing back and watching their knights fall.

  “Our son and heir is here today to also prove to the people he is worthy of the crown. And so, in accordance with our laws, he will fight the best of these men to the death. These knights will be chosen by their show of strength. They will stand against Chandler five at the time; one from each planet. I trust he will be able to handle the situation.” A look was thrown Chandler’s way. “The last man standing will be the only one standing in the final fight. Let the tournament begin.”

  Chandler dropped to the ground, and their swords met at a point somewhere over his head. Instantaneously, he was on his feet, crouched and spinning, using his wings to sweep their feet from under them. That all went down, swords falling, and Chandler had to dive from under them to avoid the sharpened blades. Backing away from the knights, he once again shot a glare in Drake’s direction, but he was just watching and waiting like the rest of the cheering crowd. Growling, Chandler looked away just in time to see the five knights rushing him, helmets only exposing the detached expressions in their eyes. It reminded Chandler that they were only there for Drake’s amusement just as he was.

  But it was obvious who was fighting. Chandler, always on the defensive, watched while they charged and swung their swords at him, barely caring that he didn’t even have one of his own. He jumped, letting his wings carry him up, as one of the men in question threw his sword, and hearing as it slamming itself home into the thick wood of the stands. There was an awed rush of sound rising from the crowd as Chandler dropped back down, balancing precariously on the blade. He released a surprised huff as the other knights stared up at him, obviously looking for some way to get him down. The sword had traveled high, leaving Chandler standing some feet above their heads. The four still holding their weapons exchanged fast glanced and then, simultaneously, they threw the swords in the same manner as the first. But this time, with the crowd behind Chandler, he didn’t dare attempt the same evasive maneuver.

  But he did jump again, using his wings to stay up. He reached down and grabbed the sword, pulling for all he was worth until it broke out of the wood with a wild swing. He narrowly avoided dropping it and gripped tighter. Beginning to fall, the swords were only a few feet away from him, but he flew higher, bringing himself high enough that when he swung the sword in his hand, it smashed against one of the flying weapons. Then it was a domino effect as the sword swung off balance, hitting the others until they all dropped straight to the ground.

  Chandler let himself drop, blood rushing in his ears as he looked to the knights. They were already standing at attention, looking up at Drake, and waiting. Slowly, Chandler turned to look at him, too, dropping the sword down with the rest of them. The sound of cheering was cut short when Drake raised a hand. Instead of speaking, he reached down to Zafrina and helped her stand. She was smiling, eyes on Chandler. She gave him a nod and then turned around to address the people.

  “Each man fought exceptionally. But there can be only one who will move on to the next round.” She paused, looking down to meet the eyes of each Legacy knight. “Sir Edmund Elyot of Legacy Three, please take a step forward.” The man with the green crest took a single step. Chandler recognized him as the one who’d thrown his sword first. His bow was too deep before he stood straight. Zafrina’s lips twitched as she watched this, and Chandler looked away, feeling the smile on his own face. He looked ridiculous. “You will be continuing on to the next round.”

  Sir Edmund bowed again, this time to Drake, who barely acknowledged the gesture. Then, all five of them marched off the field. Just as quickly, they were replaced by another group.

  This time, instead of waiting for the formalities of the starting round, all five knights charged. Taken by surprise, Chandler spun himself around them, hearing one of them smash into the stands. The sound was loud and made Chandler wince. Coming back to face them, he hastened backward, almost tripping over nothing as they began to advance again. There were only four this time, and a short glance exposed the Legacy Five knight sprawled against the stands, out cold.

  Then Chandler was taken by the alien feeling he hadn’t experienced since Monsil. His body began to take over his movements, muscles relaxing and flowing easily. He felt warm, and he stopped walking. If the knights thought it was strange, they didn’t show it. Their footsteps didn’t falter as they kept coming.

  When that slow, treacherous dance began, Chandler felt stronger than ever before. Last t
ime he’d done something like that, there was nobody around to fight. He’d just been going through the motions, seeing an enemy that wasn’t there. Now, these knights were trained, and they were strong enough to defend themselves against Chandler’s advances. Not wanting it to end, he allowed it to continue until he saw them tiring. At some point, they’d abandoned their own helmets and sweat leaked from their faces onto the churned dirt below. Their hair was soaked with it, and their armor slid over the slick skin. One of the men made the mistake of going to wipe it away. While his eyes were blocked, Chandler snaked forward and slammed his hand into the knight’s windpipe.

  He fell back gasping, and the Legacy Four knight, who’d woken at some point, came and dragged him away. That’s when the last three became more careful. Unspoken, they began a dance themselves. The knight of Legacy Three, the only left of the lower-class knights, began to edge around Chandler while Legacy Prime and Two stayed locked in their defensive positions. Observing they weren’t moving, Chandler turned his attention to the brave knight, but when his eyes turned, hands grasped his ankles and pulled.

  Breathing out sharply, Chandler landed on the ground with a thud that rocked his brain inside his skull. Groaning, he barely restrained himself from pressed his hands to his head. He should have seen that coming. But with the remaining knights going after him, he didn’t have time to think over his moment of stupidity. Then, Legacy Two stepped over him, sweat dampened hair hanging over his eyes. Chandler scowled, realizing he had no escape. His eyes flashed down, and his mouth twisted into a grimace as he sympathized with the knight for the pain he would cause. Before Chandler could think about it, he jerked his leg up, simultaneously grabbing his shoulders and upsetting the knight’s footing. The man came down hard on Chandler’s knees, and his eyes snapped wide as he released a tortured groan, immediately falling over to the side. His hands shot down to cover his injured family jewels.