Adela's Curse

by Claire M Banschbach

  Marek’s voice invaded her thoughts. “Where have you been hiding?”

  “Who says I have?”

  “Quaint, but do not test me,” he growled. “You would do well to remember how expendable you are.”

  Adela shuddered. “What do I do from here?”

  “There is a village not far from his castle. He is always there, consorting with those mewling villagers. You will most assuredly meet him there.”

  Adela’s breath caught. It was not a direct order. Perhaps…

  “You will meet him and make a favorable impression,” came the order she was trying to avoid.

  Her stomach lurched until she thought she would be sick.

  She was going to the village.

  Strangely, her lie to Estera about the famine was not far from the truth. The lands she passed through were dry and cracked. Plants wilted under the sun’s touch and the animals stood despondently, more ribs showing than were natural.

  Adela stopped and put her hand to the ground. A sickness lurked there, but not any natural kind. She recognized the dank scent of decay that oozed from the ground.

  This is the witch’s work.

  Malvina’s poison was preparing the way for her.

  Adela rested her palm against the ground and sent out a tendril of her magic into the soil. She curled her fingers into the dirt, strangling the poison where it lay, replacing it with the urge to grow.

  The dryness receded, and the ground darkened as moisture returned. The plants straightened. A cow nosed the grass with fresh interest. Satisfied for the moment, she continued her journey.

  She had not gone much farther when she saw a lonely figure sitting on a rock by the road. Adela warily approached and saw a young boy, his head bent in dejection.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello.” His reply was barely audible.

  “Are you all right?” She cautiously knelt by him. Her last encounter with a crying human was all too fresh in her mind.

  He shook his head. “Mother is sick and the crops are dying. Father is really worried.”

  “Is this your land?” Adela pointed to a fence that marked a withered field.

  The boy nodded. He, like the animals, looked hungry. She continued. “Would you like something to eat?”

  For a long moment it seemed that pride would prompt him to refuse charity, but hunger won out. He nodded again. Adela took out some bread and cheese from her bag. While he tore hungrily into the food, she touched the ground again. She drove away the blight, but withheld from rejuvenating the earth with clean magic. The effects would draw too much attention, and she had no wish to reveal herself as a faery.

  Hoofbeats sounded behind them. She and the boy looked up. Apprehension filled her, and Adela stood clutching her bag tightly.

  The horses and their riders clattered to a halt beside her. The boy scrambled up from his perch on the rock and bowed to the foremost rider. Another man she assumed to be the boy’s father came running from the house.

  “Bartek, what happened to your lands?” the leader of the troop asked.

  The shock in his voice made the farmer survey his fields. His grain stood tall and the once-dry streambed that ran through his lands now gurgled merrily with water.

  Bartek stared in shock. “I do not know, my lord Stefan.”

  Adela froze. This is the count!

  He was handsome, with dark hair and deep brown eyes, but deep lines marred the youthfulness of his face. His tunic and trousers were made from finer material than his companions, but the same practical cut. A sword hung at his side, but unlike the rest of the company, he wore no armor.

  The count turned to her. “Who are you?”

  “I am a traveler through these lands, sir,” she replied.

  “A woman who travels alone?” He shifted in his saddle, surprised.

  “The road looked safe enough and my destination is not much further.”

  “And what is your destination?”

  “The village, Chelm, by the Count’s castle. I had hoped to find work there.”

  That’s a lie.

  She forced herself to glance up at the count. He sat on his restless stallion easily and his square jaw reminded her of Damian. She fought a blush and shoved the thought away.

  “Did you have something to do with this?” He pointed to the fields.

  “How could I, my lord? I’m only a seamstress. I know nothing about the land.”

  Another lie.

  The count looked intently down at her, as if trying to determine the truth of her words. She gazed back as steadily as she could.

  “If you are going to Chelm, then allow us to accompany you there,” he said.

  “I couldn’t intrude on you like that, my lord.”

  She prayed he would ride on.

  “Nonsense. Captain Cyryl, take her up behind you,” he ordered.

  The grizzled captain reached down and pulled Adela up behind his saddle.

  “You’d best hold on, miss,” Cyryl said gruffly, as she attempted to settle comfortably on the horse’s broad rump.

  The farmer and his son bowed again as the troop rode off.

  “It was her, Father, I know it!” the boy exclaimed. “She did something!”

  “Maybe, lad,” his father said. “But then maybe she didn’t. She’d have to be a faery. And they say faeries never lie.”

  Chapter 5

  Adela had rarely ridden horses and found her place bouncing behind the saddle uncomfortable. Fortunately, they did not travel long before reaching the village of Chelm. The towers and walls of the pale grey castle loomed large over the red shale rooftops of the town. A weary mood hung over the town and castle. Desperation showed in the people’s faces as they tried to save their land against the mysterious drought.

  The troop halted in the courtyard of the castle, and Cyryl helped Adela slide down from behind him. She clutched her satchel, unsure of what to do next. That was solved by the count himself.

  “Do you have a place to stay?” he asked.

  “No, my lord. Is there an inn, perhaps?”

  “There is, but I offer you a place in the castle.” He fixed her with another piercing gaze as if able to see through her deception.

  Adela hesitated. She wanted to make getting close to him as difficult as possible to delay her horrible duty.

  “Only if you want,” the count said.

  “Take it.” Marek’s voice erased her hope.

  Adela forced a smile around the nausea from the command’s sudden power. “I would be grateful to accept your hospitality.”

  The count smiled, and the care lining his face vanished for a brief moment.

  “I never properly introduced myself. I am Count Stefan.” He gave her a small bow.

  Adela returned it with a curtsey. “Adela.”

  “Good, he seems taken with you. This should be easy.”

  A servant showed her to a room in the south tower. One curved wall held a tapestry depicting a breathtaking hunt. The other held a small mirror above a table. A stuffed armchair and inviting bed took up the rest of the room. The smooth grey walls were not as ornate as the faery palace, but Adela had a sneaking suspicion that the chamber was one of the castle’s best.

  She set her bag down and tried to brush the dust of the road from her clothes. A knock sounded. She opened the door.

  A young servant girl stood in the hallway. She wore a dress of plain blue, and light brown hair hung in two braids over her shoulder. She met Adela’s gaze with bright blue eyes.

  “The count asked me to look after you personally. Do you need anything, ma’am?”

  Adela fought a blush. Why would a Count send a self-declared seamstress a personal servant? Marek is right. He must be taken with me. Or suspect something.

  “I don’t need my own servant,” she stammered. “Is this the right room? I’m just a seamstress. Surely there’s somewhere else I can stay?”

  The girl grinned merrily. “Count Stefan is one of the ki
ndest men you’ll ever meet. Travelers are always welcome to stay. ‘My hearth is open’, he says. And if he sees someone in need, he makes sure they get help. No doubt you needed it. Now, shall I bring you water to wash? You do look a mite dirty.”

  Adela gave in. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  The maid disappeared. Adela sank down onto the bed.

  What do I do now?

  She knew, but preferred not to think about it.

  I don’t know anything about humans, and now I’m supposed to kill one. I wish Damian was here. Perhaps he’d have an idea of how to avoid the count.

  When the serving girl returned, Adela found her to be a wealth of information—and questions.

  “Where do you come from?” she asked Adela.

  “A town near the forest.”

  Not quite a lie.

  “The forest? Have you seen any faeries?” the girl asked, wide-eyed.

  “I like to think I have, once.” Adela changed the subject. “What’s happened to the land here?”

  “No one knows, ma’am. We woke up one morning, and everything had died. It rains, but nothing grows. Nothing changes.”

  “It’s like a spell,” Adela said.

  “Aye, I said the same, but no one will believe me.” The girl’s shoulders slumped.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Brygida.”

  “I’m Adela.”

  Brygida curtseyed. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  “Maybe you can help me, Brygida. I’ve never lived in a place like this,” Adela said.

  Not a lie.

  Brygida smiled again. “I’d be happy to, ma’am. To start with, the evening meal will be in two hours. Until then, I can show you about the place if you’d like.”

  “If you don’t have any other duties, I would love that.”

  Brygida led her through the winding corridors and halls, pointing out the main rooms of the castle and the private chambers. Tapestries splashed warm color on the smooth grey stone, depicting what Adela supposed were historical events. Sconces of twisted metal held torches to brighten the dark corners and secluded alcoves.

  Private chambers were marked with carved oak doors, each with a different scene which Brygida told her related to the residents. With each door they passed Brygida gave more information on all of the inhabitants of the castle. Adela’s head soon whirled trying to keep everything straight.

  After the tour, Brygida showed her back to her room. She offered to wait until Adela dressed so she could lead her back down to the main hall for the meal. Adela gratefully accepted her help again, having been quite turned around during the circuit of the castle.

  She removed her dresses from her bag and laid them on the bed, glad she hadn’t brought any of her nicer dresses. After seeing the plain, somewhat coarse material the servants and the commoners wore, the soft fabric and intricate embroidery of her faery gowns would have been unsuitable for her role as a common seamstress.

  Adela changed, then combed her hair, tying it back in a loose braid. Brygida brushed and cleaned Adela’s shoes, then handed them to Adela to slip on.

  “It’s a plain dress, but you look beautiful,” Brygida said with a tinge of wistfulness.

  “Thank you,” Adela shyly said, unused to the sentiment from anyone other than Estera or Lidia.

  They left the room together. Adela pressed her sweating palms into the folds of her skirt as they neared the hall. Her heart began to thud uncomfortably loud.

  “You’ll sit down here, ma’am.” Brygida led Adela to a table toward the end of the hall.

  Count Stefan was already seated at the head table with several other lords and ladies. Adela sat, and Brygida slipped away to attend to her duties. Adela stared at the food served in large bowls placed on the table. What would have been two courses at a faery table had been placed into one course here.

  She glanced down at the knife and double pronged fork laying by her wooden plate. A few of her table companions had carved wooden spoons, but most were not that lucky. She hid a frown. Faeries believed in more table settings.

  She watched the others at the table and copied their movements, jabbing her fork or knife directly into the bowl, as serving spoons were also foregone. She’d never felt so awkward in her life.

  Dinner finally ended, and the hall began to empty. Adela decided to try and find her way back to her room. She stood, but was stopped by a woman. Adela recognized her from the table. She was middle aged for humans, with a plumpness that tended towards overweight.

  “I heard you were a seamstress,” the woman said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Adela said. There was one similarity between worlds. News spread quickly.

  “Are you any good?”

  Adela surmised from the woman’s direct question that she was a seamstress as well.

  “Yes, I am.” She did not particularly like sewing, but Estera had made sure that every stitch she made was perfect.

  The woman contemplated that for a moment, and then added. “I’m Filipa, the castle seamstress. I’ve been needing an assistant for some time now. I’ll not be able to give you much money, but you’d be able to sell your own work in the town if you wanted to.”

  “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what I would do once I got here.” Adela flashed a relieved smile at the offer.

  “Come by tomorrow and I’ll have a look at what you can do.” The woman left before Adela could ask where she was supposed to go in the morning.

  Adela eventually found her way back to her room. She opened the curtains, allowing the moonlight to shine in. Then she sank wearily onto the bed, pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She opened her wings and folded them about herself like a cocoon. Now alone, terror and loneliness paralyzed her heart. She softly cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  She awoke the next morning to Brygida’s knock. She hastily rose, folding her wings tight against her back until they faded from view, and opened the door.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” Brygida frowned. “You look pale.”

  “Yes, I’m fine. And please stop calling me ma’am. I’ve never been called that in my life.” Adela reached to pinch her cheeks as Estera was wont to do to bring some color back. The action only served to make her miss home more.

  “I’ll try to remember.” Brygida smiled. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Actually, I’m supposed to meet a woman named Filipa, and I don’t quite remember my way around the castle, or where to even begin to look.”

  Brygida gave her the necessary directions.

  She washed and changed, taking the bag of sewing supplies she had brought with her. Adela had slept through breakfast, but Brygida had brought a warm raisin filled bun brushed with a savory glaze. Adela near forgave the humans for their unfamiliar eating habits as soon as she bit into the bread.

  Once Filipa saw Adela’s embroidery, she was welcomed with open arms and set straight to work. She sat by the open window while Filipa, obviously glad to have someone to gossip with, chattered away. Adela nodded and exclaimed as appropriately as she could.

  “Don’t worry about fitting in, dear,” Filipa said. “You’ll get the hang of everything soon enough. Goodness knows the castle has done nothing but talk about you since you got here.”

  Adela stiffened, nerves on edge. “And what’s there to say?”

  “Oh, one of the men-at-arms was going on about how they found you by a field that had been miraculously cured. I said it must be nonsense, of course.” She looked expectantly at Adela.

  Adela forced herself to relax and shook her head. “It is nonsense. How could I do something like that?”

  Filipa nodded in satisfaction. “I knew it must be. Now, you must tell me all about yourself.”

  Adela hid a sigh and spent the rest of the morning inventing stories about herself.

  The next day brought a steady stream of women to the seamstress’s room, exclaiming over her stitching and
asking questions about her until she wanted to scream.

  At least faeries are a little more discreet when it comes to strangers!

  The following day, Adela slipped away after the midday meal and found her way to the gardens. She spent the afternoon wandering through the neat pathways, but there was little cheer to be found among the browned and drooping growth.

  The sight only made her desperation worse. She hadn’t realized how much she would miss her duties in the forest of caring for growing things. She longed to help the withered plants, but didn’t dare for fear she would be discovered.

  “Good work.” Adela jumped as Marek abruptly made his presence known. “I must say I’m impressed. In two days you’ve managed to gain the trust of the whole castle. I knew there was a reason I chose a faery.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Snappy today, aren’t we? You’d better hurry up and get close to the count, or else…”

  Adela clutched her head, overcome by a sudden pain that jolted through the bond.

  “Are you all right?”

  She pulled her hand from her forehead and swept a curtsey to the count. Why does it have to be him that finds me?

  “Yes, my lord. I’ve just been a bit overwhelmed is all.”

  “But nothing too terrible I hope?” Count Stefan asked, his expression concerned. “I’ve wanted to ask you how things were going.”

  “I can’t complain, my lord. I’m living in a castle and I’ve found work with the seamstress. She’s generously offered to include my wares with hers in the village market. I’ll be able to send home what gold I can make.”

  Adela finished the story she had woven for herself, then tried to edge away. However Count Stefan moved with her. They began to walk along a wide path.

  “Where is your home?” he asked.

  “Near the forest. My parents have passed, and I’ve been living with a cousin of mine. She can use all the help I can give.”