Adela's Curse

by Claire M Banschbach

  “How are things here?” Damian asked.

  “Too perfect.” Adela sighed. “Everything seems to work in Marek’s favor. He said today that it wouldn’t be much longer.”

  “Does he know you’re here right now?” Damian shifted toward her in concern.

  “No.” Adela held up her hand and showed him the copper ring. “It hides me from anyone who might wish me harm. I’ve used it before to block Marek’s connection to me.”

  “Won’t he suspect something?”

  “He can, but I don’t think he would do anything to me. He still needs me—” Her voice faltered before she forced away the familiar dread. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”

  Damian rested a hand on hers. “What do you want to talk about?”

  Adela looked around her in the moonlight filtering through the trees. The small copse had the scent of home about it. Her hand was warm beneath his touch. She moved so her hand slipped more comfortably into his. “Tell me about the forest. I miss it so much.”

  “All right.” He told her about Maksym, the rabbit, who had sought him out after Adela departed. He mentioned the fox that he had freed from a hunter’s trap and then healed. He spoke of the things he saw every day, of the castle and their friends. Adela interrupted with questions from time to time, and found herself laughing at his wry comments.

  A light breeze rippled over her wings. She felt freer than she had in weeks. No lying. No pretending to be someone she wasn’t. For a moment, she forgot about Marek and his curse.

  Damian and Adela sat and talked until the sky began to lighten in the east. Reluctantly they stood, but both hesitated before beginning the journey back.

  She smiled. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I’m glad I could help,” he replied, his eyes softening. “And I’m glad that you are doing well.”

  Hardly!

  “As well as can be expected you mean? Damian, what do I do?” Her voice rose. She trapped a sob in her chest. “I’m so frightened! I can’t—I can’t kill him!”

  “There is always a choice.” Damian took her shaking hands in his. “You’ll know what to do.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  His calloused hands were strong and comforting around hers. Stefan’s hands spoke of strength as well, but with Damian it was different. It was his touch she wanted on the bleakest days. His eyes she wanted looking down at her as they conversed about even the most mundane things.

  Adela wished she could find the words to tell Damian how she felt about him. But more than that, she wished she knew what he was thinking as his hazel eyes met hers.

  “Adela, I…”

  “Yes?” she asked hopefully.

  “Just be careful.” He squeezed her hands, but didn’t let go.

  “I will.” She fought a faint pang of disappointment that he hadn’t finished his first thought. “Damian, can you write more letters? It helps me so much.”

  “Then I will.”

  They slowly released each other’s hands and drew apart. Then, Damian suddenly stepped forward and kissed her lips. It took her by surprise but then she returned it, her heart leaping. Then he was gone, changing to the barn owl and flying away.

  Adela had no choice but to return to the castle. She curled in bed, unable to remove the smile from her face, or calm the dancing of her heart.

  Chapter 8

  The griffin disappeared not long after Damian’s visit. The mortals wondered at it, but went on about their lives. The next two weeks followed much the same pattern as before.

  Damian wrote more frequently, to Adela’s delight, and she answered his letters as soon as she received them. She began to spend more time looking through the link between Damian and her, especially as the count began to hint that he might hold a far deeper affection than friendship for her. A deepening affection that pleased Marek, as it suited his evil scheme.

  The solid and comforting bond between her and Damian made up for the days when Marek’s evil joy threatened to overwhelm her. Adela’s days passed in a forced happiness as she pretended to welcome Count Stefan’s attentions. She would send prayers to the Creator, half afraid He would ignore her for the things she was doing, but knowing He never would.

  She would often catch a glimpse of the forest or the mountain’s interior around Damian, and paralyzing homesickness would strike her heart. She longed for Estera and Lidia—even for the mundane parts of faery life. Adela hadn’t sung a note since leaving the forest and some days the urge to release her magic through her voice almost overcame her.

  Damian would sense her mood, and do what he could to bring a smile to her face. He seemed to know exactly what she wanted to see, and would seek out it out for her. In those moments, she wished more than anything to be back in the forest.

  Then one day, the unthinkable happened.

  Stefan found her walking in the gardens that afternoon. He joined her in silence before coming to an abrupt halt beside the yellow roses.

  “Adela,” he began. “I won’t deny that these last months are the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

  Adela caught her breath.

  “You know the story of Daniele. In some ways, you remind me of her. You’re kind and caring just like she was. I want a woman like that by my side. I’ve been thinking about this for the past few days, and I’ve now decided that I want to ask. Will you marry me?”

  Marek’s joy buffeted her in sickening waves. “Tell him yes.”

  I can’t. Adela fought against his order until tears came to her eyes. Then her mouth opened.

  “Yes, I will!”

  Stefan smiled. Adela smiled back, even while she felt like the stain of her lies and betrayal coated her. Adela wished the count hated her. She hated herself.

  “When will you announce the betrothal?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow,” he said, excitement lingering in his smile. “I want everyone to be there.” Stefan was called away at that moment, and Adela was able to flee to her room.

  “Well done.” Marek applauded her. “I must say that this is going better than I ever thought it would.”

  “Leave me alone!” Adela clutched at her head.

  “You know I can’t. You’ll kill him tomorrow, I think. How horrible it would be for the Count to die in front of all his subjects at the hand of his blushing bride to be!” Marek laughed.

  Adela winced. “Don’t. Please.”

  “You won’t have to stab him if that’s what you’re afraid of. Malvina has prepared a poison to use. I am fond of poison.” He laughed again. “Expect her tonight.”

  Moments after Marek’s oily presence faded, concern from Damian flooded over her.

  “I’m fine.” Her whispered words didn’t reassure either of them.

  His concerned feelings persisted, but Adela couldn’t bring herself to tell him of the order. She didn’t know what she could do to resist it. If Damian knew the details, he would come to confront the witch, and that would only make it worse. She didn’t want to see him hurt as well.

  She smiled through dinner, pretending to enjoy her food while it turned to ash in her mouth. Once Adela returned to her room, she did not have long to wait for Malvina to arrive. The acrid scent of smoke filled the room as the witch appeared. She smiled, enjoying every moment of Adela’s desolation.

  “Here.” She handed Adela a vial. “It’s one of my best poisons. A few drops into his wine glass before he toasts you as his bride, and the job will be done.”

  Adela stared at the vial in horror. “Why don’t you do it?”

  “My brother has forbidden me to, remember? He doesn’t trust that I am subtle enough. That’s why you’re here. You’ll do the job splendidly, and no one will suspect anything.” Malvina smirked. Then her expression turned serious. “Oh, and I’ll be nearby the whole time to make sure you don’t try to call to any of your friends for help. You see, I rather suspect you have been in contact with someone this whole time, but my idiot brother doesn’t believe m
e. If anyone should appear to try and help, I’ll kill them slowly in front of you before I finish you off myself.”

  The witch disappeared, and Adela was left alone.

  Her hand flew to the grass bracelet that connected her to Damian. I can’t put him in danger. Adela’s fingers curled around the band. She couldn’t lose him either. His presence through the bond had kept her strong. She needed that little reassurance now. But she still couldn’t risk him coming.

  Adela sent threads of her magic around the bracelet to suppress the bond as much as she could bear.

  ****

  Brygida ran into Adela’s room, slamming the door in her excitement. Adela sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes. She had hardly slept during the night, tormented by the sight of the vial in her hand. She shoved the vial under the pillow before Brygida could see.

  “The count has ordered a banquet for tonight! He says there’s something that he’ll be announcing. Is it what everyone’s been hoping for?” Brygida asked with a knowing glance. “Adela, did he?”

  Adela forced a smile and nodded, not trusting her voice. Brygida squealed in joy and clapped her hands.

  “Oh, but don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul! He’ll make the announcement himself.”

  Brygida helped her dress, chattering on about wedding plans and the dress that would have to be made. Adela slumped in relief when the door closed behind the giddy servant girl. She sat in the room for another hour, staring at herself in the mirror. She unfolded her wings before quickly hiding them again.

  They should be cut off. I’m no true faery. I deserve to die.

  Adela avoided Stefan as much as she could the whole day. She didn’t want to see him until the last possible second.

  As evening began to fall, Adela dressed again with Brygida’s help, barely seeing how beautiful she was in the dress of dark red velvet, its bodice threaded with embroidery of her own design, and with her hair pulled back by a silver band.

  She clasped the faery necklace around her neck, hoping for any kind of strength from it. Then she forced her feet to carry her down the corridors to the great hall. The entire castle had assembled. Beneath her trailing sleeves, Adela grasped the tiny vial. She slowly ascended the dais to take her place next to Stefan. She stared out at the crowd.

  “Where have you been all day?” Stefan asked, his brow furrowed in worry.

  “I was writing to my family,” Adela said. One last lie. “I want them to be able to come to the wedding.”

  Stefan smiled. Another piece of her died. They stood together on the dais, and Stefan took her hand before turning to the people.

  “Many of you know Adela. She came to this place almost two months ago to employ her skills as a seamstress. But she has shown herself to be more than that. You have all heard of her courage in driving off the predatory griffin. But perhaps more striking to me was the kindness I saw her show to a stranger on the day we met. Since that day, her gentleness, compassion, and quiet grace have not ceased to amaze me. And so it gives me great joy to announce that Adela has consented to be my wife!”

  The hall erupted in cheers, and Adela smiled graciously even as fear ran a numbing course through her veins. A servant came forward bearing two glasses of wine. Her foot slid forward a half-step before freezing. She couldn’t do this.

  “Move. Now.”

  Under Marek’s command, she used her magic to hide the vial from human sight before pouring it into one of the glasses. She took both cups, turning back to Stefan.

  “Do it!” Marek shouted. “Kill him!”

  Stefan reached for the glass with the poison.

  The order pushed Adela. She clenched her teeth, fighting against the urge. She couldn’t hand Stefan the wine.

  “No! Don’t!” she cried in desperation.

  Stefan stopped in confusion. “Adela?”

  Tears streamed down her face at the struggle raging inside. Marek’s order threatened to drown her will as it pushed her forward. She screamed in her mind, and the tide paused for a brief moment.

  “I can’t stop.” She sobbed. “He’s making me. I don’t want to!”

  “Give it to him!”

  “No!” Adela shouted with her mind and voice.

  The hall had fallen silent, people shocked and perplexed at the strange battle playing out before them. Captain Cyryl ran toward the dais, his sword drawn. Stefan stepped towards Adela. She drew back, trembling uncontrollably, wine threatening to spill from the glasses.

  A thought burst into her mind.

  “Do not throw the poison away!” Marek ordered. “Give it to him.”

  Everything blurred together. The orders compelled her hands forward, but still she resisted. Stefan watched, hurt and surprise marring his face.

  Then she remembered Damian’s words.

  There is always a choice.

  Maybe there was. She prayed that her magic would protect her one last time. Perhaps the Creator would be merciful.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t hurt you,” she told Stefan.

  Adela drained the glass with the poison.

  She fell to the ground. The wine glasses shattered. Shouts of panic echoed through the hall, and she faintly heard the witch’s scream of fury.

  ****

  In the forest, Damian doubled over in agony as Adela’s terror and pain flooded their bond. It was stronger than anything he had ever felt. He clutched his head. He barely saw Rafael next to him or heard his concern.

  I have to find her!

  ****

  Stefan knelt by Adela. What is happening? His thoughts whirled in a confused storm. He focused instead on her as she lay gasping on the floor, the remnant of the glasses strewn about her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “They wanted me to kill you, but I couldn’t. Please forgive me if you can.”

  His reply halted as she began to change before his eyes. Her features became more refined, and it seemed she became slightly smaller.

  Stefan stared in shock as shimmering wings unfolded from her back, and gasps rippled through the gathering.

  She’s a faery!

  “Adela!”

  She convulsed in pain as the poison began to take effect. But she reached up, put her hand on Stefan’s forehead, and spoke a blessing.

  “Though your life sorrow has in hold

  Unbounded joy is now foretold

  You will rule long and well

  And find a love greater than I can tell

  May peace and wealth bless this land

  And justice come ever from your hand.”

  The people watched in awe. A faery blessing was a mighty thing. Not many people living had seen one conferred.

  Stefan took her hand. “Adela, I don’t understand.”

  She only smiled sadly. “I’m sorry.”

  Black smoke swirled through the hall, obscuring his sight. When the smoke cleared, the faery had vanished.

  ****

  “She’d better be dead!” Marek’s shout jarred through Adela’s pounding head.

  “She isn’t!” Malvina snapped. “The poison must work slower on faeries.”

  Adela lay on the floor, gasping for breath. Her entire body was on fire, burning from the inside out. She heard Marek and Malvina arguing through a haze, but she savored a small sense of triumph.

  Stefan isn’t dead!

  She had saved him, but the price was her own death unless she could get back to the forest and the aid of the faery healer.

  A blurred figure advanced on her with a knife. Marek.

  She knew the end was nigh.

  The window shattered. Marek halted. Damian landed in the room with his sword drawn. He shouted and thrust a hand towards Malvina. A burst of power threw her against the wall. Marek drew his sword and charged Damian.

  They were both excellent swordsmen but they struggled to maneuver in the confined space of the room. Damian twisted away from Marek’s swing, and retaliated with a thrust that clattered off the table as Marek dodged. The harsh clang o
f steel on steel echoed off the stone walls, reverberating through Adela’s pounding head. Marek’s sword shrieked off the stone as Damian kicked away from the wall.

  Malvina broke through the spell pinning her down and stood again.

  “Malvina, kill her!” Marek roared. “I’ll take care of him!”

  Malvina shouted for the guards before stalking towards Adela. She tried to crawl away from the witch, but the poison had drained her strength.

  Malvina smiled, her scarlet-rimmed eyes bright in triumph.

  *

  Damian parried Marek’s latest stroke and watched in helpless agony as the witch advanced on Adela. Marek threw a chair at him. Damian ducked to the floor, kicking at Marek’s legs in retaliation. This fight was a stalemate. How could he win?

  Damian sensed a hive of bees in the castle grounds and called to them in desperation.

  Marek attacked again, jerking his attention from Adela. Damian parried and then took the offensive, putting all his force into his blows until Marek’s back was against the wall. The evil count had nowhere to go. Fear glittered in his eyes.

  Damian knew he shouldn’t kill the mortal, but he had to break the bond. He steeled his heart, pushing away the dread of breaking the faery law. Marek lunged and then howled as Damian’s sword slashed through his wrist, sending the bracelet falling to the ground.

  Malvina leaned over Adela, ready to deliver a killing blow. At that moment, an angry swarm of bees burst through the broken window and attacked her. She shrieked and shot bolts of fire from her hands to kill the bees.

  Damian picked up the evil binding bracelet and ran to Adela. Sheathing his sword, he scooped her up in his arms. Guards pounded outside the door. The remaining bees parted for him, then Damian leaped out the window.

  Damian flew as fast as he could, but his wings could not bear the weight of two faeries for long. They already trembled under the strain. When they were close to the mountain hall, he was forced to land. Adela’s eyes were shut tight. She moaned in pain.