The Cursed (The Cursed Trilogy Book 1)

by Iyanna Orr

  “Max,” he said. “What is this exactly?”

  “I needed a way to get in contact with you,” she said impatiently. Waving it away, she stepped toward him. “Where are you?”

  “You mean you don’t know where I am?” he asked, and then at the blank look on her face, Chandler snorted and shook his head. “I would’ve thought it was obvious. I’m in Legacy, staying at the castle with Drake and Zafrina.”

  Max stared at him, long and hard. He could’ve sworn he saw her hands trembling, but she clenched her fists, and it was gone. “Why are you still alive?” she asked, eyes narrowing. More distance came between them as she stepped back. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything!” he snapped. “Do you think I want to be here?”

  “It does not matter whether you want to be there or not, Chandler. Drake would only keep you alive if he did not see you as a plausible threat.” She huffed out a breath. “At the least, you would be locked up and not walking around free.”

  “He wants me to be king.”

  “What do you mean he wants you to be the next king?” Max erupted after a tense moment of silence. “That goes against everything the prophecy stands for! Everything he has done since the moment he was born was to make sure you did not stop him from taking over whatever he wanted. Now, he has the entirety of Legacy at his command, and he is just trying to give it all to you? None of these is making sense!

  “I need to speak to Damian. Maybe he will remember something, or he could probably find something in the archives about your prophecies.”

  “This is the present, and I’m tired of living in the past and relying on what prophecies said centuries ago. I don’t know what changed, but right now, I’m in a situation where I both cooperate and take over the place I was supposed to save, or I try to kill him right now and fail.”

  “You will not fail,” Max said resolutely. “We have two armies on our side. After I find that girl, I will look for the armies and prepare them.”

  “Armies but—” Chandler’s mind blanked, forgetting the protest his mouth had been about to utter. It was coming back to him; the dream he’d gotten when he was locked in the Monsil city jail. Then his eyes went back to Max, surprised. “How did you know about that?”

  “It does not matter.” She waved the question away. “I need to go soon. We will not be able to hold this connection for much longer, so I need you to hear me and do as I say.” She paused, and Chandler waited. “Since Drake is so committed to keeping you alive this time, you need to play along, become a prince, a part of their family, just until we have everything in place to make our move.”

  “It’s not like I have any other choice, do I?”

  A ghost of a smile came over her face, and it was gone just as fast.

  “No, not really.”

  And then she was gone.

  Back at the castle, Drake had managed to fit the entire crowd of royalty into the throne room. Stepping inside, Chandler was greeted with what could have only been a party. Pushed against the walls were a few of the tables that used to cover the floor. The others were nowhere in sight. The kings and queens sat aside while the surprisingly large group of princes and princesses mingled in the middle.

  When he opened the doors, few heads turned to look at Chandler, but once they saw him, they turned away. He picked his way around them until he could climb the short set of stairs leading to the throne where Drake and Zafrina sat. Ignoring the look Drake was giving him, he sat on the small table between the two of them.

  “Is someone going to explain to me who these people are?”

  The question hung there until Zafrina sighed.

  “Of course, you know they’re royals,” she started, and he turned to her. She gestured toward the far corner of the room, where two men and three women sat. “Those are the kings and queen of the kingdoms on the planet Escion. Queen Gadhea, in the green dress, her kingdom is called Aseinad. She murdered her husband to gain the throne. She thinks nobody knows, but everyone suspects. King Elrid controls Ethausa. He’s been our ally for close to eighteen years now.” There was tightness to her voice Chandler didn’t understand. It was clear something was on her mind because she didn’t tell him who the last king was. “The three of them are really the only kingdoms who matter here. Their planet is a small one, but they own many others though they let other kings and queens rule over them. It’s important that they stay happy or we’ll be forced to take action.

  “Their children…” She turned to look at a group, maybe seven or eight of them, huddled against a wall on the other side of the room from their parents. “They are all in the running of becoming a king or queen. Once their parents hand the throne to the oldest, they plan on taking back the planets they own. At least three kingdoms will have to be destroyed and broken down for them to claim their own crown, but we don’t find the need to tell their parents. As long as they swear loyalty to us when they take their crowns, their kingdoms and planets will be safe.”

  “So, that’s how things work here,” Chandler scoffed. “If you don’t like what someone else is doing, you take them out.”

  “It’s how things have to be,” Drake growled next to him. Chandler turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. Drake was already watching him. “It would be a good thing for you to remember you are here only because I want you to be.”

  “Why is that, Drake? So, you can use me?” He found himself standing and looking down at him. “What exactly do you think I can do for you? I’m stuck here while who knows what happens to everything I knew on Earth. My best friend’s parents are dead, and there’s nothing I can do about it! Whatever it is you think I have, you should know that I have nothing.” Chandler wasn’t quite aware he’d drawn the attention of the room, but the slow blaze in Drake’s eyes was enough. “Now, we made a deal,” he continued, his voice lowering. “Once this tournament is through, I’m leaving for Rockbryr. I don’t care how many guests you have. We’re going with this tournament today, and we’ll keep going until I say otherwise.” Turning and giving the observing room one last withering glance, Chandler marched through the crowd and out the doors.

  Chandler knew he was being followed as soon as he heard the hesitation of the doors closing behind him. Instead of heading for his room, which had been his first instinct, he went for the front doors. They were already standing open, so when he turned the corner, out of sight, he pressed his back up against the wall and waited. Two boys followed him, eyes immediately turning his direction as they stepped out. Looking from one to the other, Chandler shrugged.

  “Is there something I can help you with?

  The two stared at him, looking as if he hadn’t spoken at all. As they watched Chandler, he observed them just as closely and couldn’t help but feel as if he’d seen them before. Realization certainly didn’t dawn on him, but the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach told him this was one of those situations when more was happening. More of those things he didn’t understand. He figured they were two of the royals who’d been in stand in that group he and Zafrina had been watching before he stormed out like a spoiled child. He wanted to recoil from his own childishness and just get out of Legacy while Drake still gave him free range to roam. But he didn’t because Drake was already preparing the remaining knights for the tournament, and in just a few days, he’d be away from the castle for a good long while.

  But the twins couldn’t have been more obtuse. They finally shook themselves from whatever trance they were in and exchanged glances.

  “Aidan?” one of them uttered. The other was watching Chandler, a shrewdly calculating look on his face.

  “That’s not Aidan,” he told his brother. “Look in his eyes.”

  Chandler began growing unsettled at their observations. He took steps back from them.

  “What do you want?”

  “If you’re not our brother, then who are you?” the first asked.

  “I’m Chandler. What do you mean your brother? I’ve never been
anyone’s brother.”

  “Nothing,” the second replied. “Troy, let’s go.”

  “But Tyler—”

  “No.” Tyler grabbed Troy’s arm and started dragging him back to the castle. Chandler listened to them even as they walked away. “We breathe not a word of this to Mother, Father or Astir. It’ll just stir up trouble.”

  “Could it be him then?” Troy asked. Chandler saw that Tyler had released him before they disappeared. “The one everyone’s talking about?”

  “It could. And if it is, we’re better off with Aidan gone.”

  He didn’t waste time leaving that matter where it lay and running back to his room. The werecat was nowhere to be seen, and dressing for the fight was quicker than he’d imagine. He didn’t bother with the chainmail this time. He threw a shirt over his head, easing in his wings, and headed out. On the field, if Drake was displeased with Chandler’s obvious blow against his kingdom, he ignored it and continuously brought out a round of fighters.

  When this tournament had first begun, Chandler wasn’t so sure about what he could do. Now, with a burning in him he didn’t understand, he rushed into the fight, leaving nothing but destruction behind. This time around, the knights had been throwing knives, and they kept their distance as Chandler dodged in and out of the wooden barricades set up for this. Knife after knife embedded itself into the wood, but he didn’t go from them. Instead, he let that fire within him come out and vaulted over a barricade, running straight for the knight perched on top of the wall. Seeing him coming, the knight stood upright with little issue and began running along the two-inch wide wood.

  Chandler watched him jump from the wall, landing on top of the even thinner barricade. Peering closer at him, all the while avoiding the knives of the other knights, he could see there was a strange, tilted quality to his eyes. Chandler only got a brief glimpse through the helmet, and then it was gone.

  He went after him, using his wings to throw him up in the air and speed after him until he felt his shoulder blades burning with the exertion. It reminded him of home and ripping through the trees on the way to school. Those moments used to bring a smile to his face, but now, they were just a reminder of the wayward direction his life was heading. His lack of attention came at the wrong moment, and the next thing he knew, he was falling, the smell of burning flesh and feathers reaching his nose. The crash landing pained him so much less than the horrid feeling in his wing.

  Unlike when he had injuries on his skin, Chandler could feel the flesh piecing itself back together. The threading nerves and muscles throughout attacked his sanity while he was frozen stiff from the pain. He wondered how such a small thing could bring him so much hurt. He knew he should have taken more precaution. Long ago, he’d realized how vulnerable his wings were, and this only served to prove how right he was.

  Footsteps were moving toward him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His mind was centered on the hole that had been torn into his wing, and his eyes were fixated on the blazing red knife that lay in the dirt, sprayed fully with his blood. He gazed at it, panting as the wound continued to pull itself back together, and wondered why the blade was so hot. Until he turned his eyes to look at Drake and saw the knight perched in front of him on the wall.

  The man had removed his helmet, pitch black hair spilling out in a wave and trailing down his back. Drake was speaking quickly to him, but the knight’s eyes were still watching Chandler. Everything about this face came to a point; his nose, his chin, and his eyes were all narrow features on him. The color of his eyes was one that didn’t exist on Earth, and Chandler had no name for it, but none of that mattered once his eyes drifted to the knight’s ears.

  Every moment Chandler had lived since his arrival to Legacy had been one never-ending game after another. Drake had done all this; deliberately putting him in situations that not only damaged the life he was trying to find but also made giving up seem like the better option. But Chandler knew better, and he knew this game Drake was playing. Giving up would mean accepting his fate just as the citizens of Legacy had when a stranger had come to their planet and crowned himself king. And still, the man was here, over three thousand years later, doing the same thing, manipulating who he wanted; ordering them around like it was his right to control whoever he wanted.

  Ignoring the pain of his continuously healing back, he felt a roar in his ears. The feeling that had been pounding in his stomach released itself, and out of him came a gushing rapid he had no hope of stopping. Unlike never before, his body began to shift without his own will, and the world that was in front of him disappeared. His eyes found themselves looking at the place he’d just been lying in the dirt. Looking over, he found himself balanced, on four legs, on the wall right next to the elf. He never tried to stop Chandler from tearing out his throat and spraying the dirt and people around them with blood. He tossed the chunk of flesh away from him, body turning to gaze at the remaining knights on the field. He didn’t care to notice where the others came from or Drake’s raised voice as he called for the end of the fight. The taste of the elf’s blood was in his mouth, and Chandler found himself licking over stained fangs as he stalked for the immovable knights.

  Then, a shout rang out to his left, and his head turned instinctively, seeking out the danger. Instead, his eyes trailed over the crowd, seeing first the citizens and then the royals. His eyes lingered on those of higher status, a malicious voice in the back of his mind telling him that these were the game pieces to get rid of. These were the ones Drake controlled who had the most power. And, Chandler decided in a hazy afterthought, their blood would taste the best. He could already taste it on his tongue as he prepared himself to lunge into the crowd.

  Suddenly, Drake’s voice roared, and though Chandler couldn’t make out the words, his body was thrown, slamming into every barricade in his way. A thunderous growl ripped from his throat as he landed in a heap at the foot of the wall. People had begun screaming, and the sound tore at his ears. He pushed it aside, though, taking Drake stalking toward him, dressed like a human. Chandler’s eyes could see the aura of power he projected. His body wanted to feel his life draining out from his throat. His mind wanted to feel the rush he would get from murdering Drake right where he stood. So, Chandler charged him, checking his speed as his body lowered toward the ground, eyes hooked onto his prey. Drake was looking at him with something on his human face the unbalanced boy didn’t understand. But Chandler didn’t feel fear coming from the man he hunted; no, it was just the opposite.

  Chandler’s body rammed to a stop as he dug his clawed feet into the ground, mind coming back to him like a meteor slamming down. His small, vicious body stumbled on its feet, swaying back and forth. His mind registered the people had long since fled, but the royals were all watching him with horror he knew wasn’t directed at him. No, they were afraid because, as far as they knew, Drake now had a lethal weapon, a destructive killing machine to do his bidding when he couldn’t keep his anger in check. Chandler’s physical and mental weariness wouldn’t let him feel anything about it; about being used and shown off like a prize stallion. Everything about him was drained, his energy rapidly depleting in a body that he’d never used before.

  He collapsed, already shifting back. Naked and on the verge of a post-homicidal rampage coma, Chandler could hear Drake introducing him as the prince to the gathered royals. And it was all he had heard before he was lost to the world.

  Chandler was able to fight his way back to the surface only once. He hadn’t felt this tired in a long time, as he usually refrained from turning into something new. New bodies and new senses always rapidly stole whatever energy he had and, sometimes, sent him into sleep that lasted well over twenty-four hours. Through bleary eyes and an aching body, all he could see was white. There was no sound where he was, and whatever he lay on was extremely uncomfortable. Then it was all gone again, and he was dragged back into the dark. But just like his dream world with Max, it began to brighten and shifted into images that
he could see and hear.

  Rory held the book in his lap, watching as Max spoke heatedly while Michael followed her angry steps with his eyes. The three of them were alone in the room, but neither of the twins seemed to be paying Rory much attention.

  “I knew something was off about her,” Max growled. “And now he is stuck entertaining that monster while we are holed up here.”

  “We could always leave, Max,” Michael said, obviously trying not to laugh at her. “You have magic now.”

  “We cannot just leave here without explanation! That happened once before. And look what happened. Gideon is blaming us for the destruction of the planet. They may not voice it, Michael, but the people think it all the same.”

  “Max,” he said, the amusement snuffed from his voice. “That was not our fault, and we all know it. Gideon and the rest of the council were the ones who put us on that shuttle off-world. He may not be able to understand it, but our birth wasn’t the cause of this. If we hadn’t been born, Drake would still have eventually destroyed us looking for Chandler.”

  “I think it’s about time somebody did something about that man,” Rory suddenly spoke up. Both looked at Rory as if he’d grown another head. “I may be from Earth, but I know what a tyrant looks like,” he paused. “And at the moment, it’s about to knock on our door.”

  Michael was at the door before Max could even blink. He pulled it open smoothly, a polite grin hiding the diabolical contemplations going on inside his head. Gideon stood on the other side, a swelling, red knot on the top of his head. When he saw Max, a sneer overcame his lips, and his head moved in a way that was supposed to be casual. His hair fell over the knot.