A Curse So Dark and Lonely (The Cursebreaker Series Book 1)

We survive the night without incident, but Rhen calls for me early. Now that he has a plan in mind, he’s a man on a mission. With a promise to send a wagon back to the inn for Freya and her children, Rhen and Grey have the horses saddled and waiting before I’ve even finished lacing my boots.

By the time we’re on horseback, the sky stretches blue and cold overhead, with just enough wind to nip at my cheeks as we canter through the snow. We fly across the open ground, Grey galloping from hill to hill to act as lookout. By the time we reach the final crest, I’m relieved that Grey calls for us to stop—until I see that he’s concerned.

“A man waits at the tree line, my lord. He appears to be alone.”

I look past him. There’s a man with a large wagon and two draft horses, but they’re too far to see much detail.

“Good,” says Rhen. “I asked him to wait for us here. He is a porter and we’ll have need of his wagon.”

Grey frowns. “You know this man?”

“You do as well. You gave him your bag of coins.” He glances at me. “If I recall correctly, you damaged his cargo?”

The one-armed man with all the crates. “When did you ask him to wait for us?”

“After your lecture on whether I know how to do something nice.”

When Rhen rode off and left Grey to escort me to the inn. “But … why?”

Rhen’s expression is piercing. “I asked him to wait so he can distribute the castle’s endless food among the people. I’m sure he’ll assist with fetching Freya as well, if I request it.”

I open my mouth. Close it.

Rhen doesn’t wait for a response. He wheels his horse and canters down the hill.

We learn the man’s name is Jamison. His shocked bewilderment from yesterday is gone and he seems pleased to have a service to offer. His horses look better fed than he does, and I like that he threw a blanket over their backs while he was waiting. Rhen gives him the same story he gave Coale, how the enchanted castle was cursed by the wicked queen of Syhl Shallow, then asks the man to keep his confidence.

When we finally ride through the woods, Rhen and I lead, followed by Jamison’s wagon and Grey behind.

We’re walking now, so I look over at Rhen and keep my voice low. “You keep asking people to keep this a secret. I think Coale and Evalyn really will, but you just met this guy. How do you know he won’t tell everyone about this?”

“My lady.” He glances over, looking genuinely startled. “I am counting on them telling everyone.”

I feel like I’ve missed something important. “So … wait.”

“Again, I must ask. Have you no sense of how gossip works?”

“You’re making it seem like a big secret so they will tell people?”

“Of course.” He looks at me like this shouldn’t be a surprise. “Do you truly think I would reveal genuine secrets in such a cavalier way?”

I clamp my mouth shut. No. I don’t. Everything he does is calculated. I should have figured this was no different.

“Are you ever reckless?” I ask.

“I was,” he says. “Once.”

Then we step out of the snow, into cursed warmth and dappled sunlight.

Jamison works hard. We’ve been carrying food out of the castle’s front hall for the past hour, and even one-handed, he makes quick work of loading everything into trunks and stacking his wagon. He was a little awestruck by the warmth in the air and the copious food—to say nothing of the music ringing through the castle. It’s sad that I’ve only been here for a few days and I’m already over it.

Jamison seems more shocked that Rhen and Grey work alongside him, bringing food up from the kitchens once the hall tables have been emptied.

I’m a little shocked that Rhen is helping, too. I’m not sure why—because I can’t see him lounging on a silk chaise, either. He just doesn’t strike me as the roll-up-your-sleeves type, but he did exactly that. He’s long since ditched the weapons and armor and his buckled jacket, and once packing turned to loading, he turned back the sleeves of his shirt. Seeing him in the sun with bare forearms and sweat on his brow makes my eyes want to linger.

I lock my eyes on the trunk in my hands and tell my brain to knock it off. There’s probably something calculated about all this, too. He probably hopes Jamison will spread word about what a swell guy he is.

Rhen sees me approaching and he turns to take the trunk.

“I’ve got it,” I say, but my voice is too quick. I might be blushing.

He steps back and extends a hand, giving way. “My lady.”

I heave the crate onto the back of the wagon, where Jamison waits to drag it into place. Rhen watches me the whole time. My blush goes nowhere.

Jamison grabs hold of the trunk. “Your Highness, if I may ask …”

Rhen finally looks away. “You may.”

“Do you fear providing enchanted food to your people?”

“I fear not feeding them more.”

My heart flutters, just the tiniest bit, and I have to remind myself that he does nothing without intention, that all of this is part of a plan. A means to an end. A good end, that will help his people, but a calculated effect nonetheless. He’s playing a role. Just like I am.

Jamison nods. “Yes, Your Highness.” He drags the trunk onto the wagon and deftly stacks it atop the others.

Grey emerges from the castle with another trunk and tosses it onto the back of the wagon as well, springing up to stack it himself. The only weapon he’s set aside is his sword. “I believe this is the last of it. For now.”

Jamison straightens and gives him a nod. “Commander. You have my thanks.”

“Don’t worry,” says Rhen. “Commander Grey likes to feel necessary.”

Grey pushes sweat-dampened hair off his forehead and says, “Commander Grey is going to regret saying that.”

Maybe it’s the shared purpose, but they seem different today. Less … something. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

The men jump off the back of the wagon, and Jamison latches it closed. “I will return with the Lady Freya by sundown, Your Highness.”

“Good,” says Rhen.

“Thank you,” I add.

Jamison gives me a short bow. “Yes, my lady. Of course.” He turns to Grey and offers a sharp salute. “Commander.” Then he turns away to head for the front of his wagon.

“Wait,” says Grey.

Jamison turns. “Yes?”

“You saluted me.” Grey frowns, seeming disquieted. “You were not in the Royal Guard.”

“The King’s Army. Until I lost my arm defending Willminton last year.” Jamison looks abashed. “Forgive me. Old habits die hard.”

“What was your rank?”

“Lieutenant.”

“Can you still hold a sword?”

“I can do more than hold one.”

Grey nods. “When you return at sundown, come find me.”

“Yes, sir.” Jamison hesitates, then says, “Why?”

“Because I have need for a lieutenant.”

The man starts to laugh, but Grey’s expression hasn’t changed, and he quickly sobers. “Yes, sir.” He offers another salute, then climbs onto his wagon and urges his horses forward.

Once he’s out of earshot, Rhen says, “Commander, that man is missing an arm.”

“Duly noted.” Grey picks up his sword belt from the marble steps and buckles it into place.

“What’s Willminton?” I say.

“One of the northern border cities.” Grey glances at Rhen. “If he lost an arm defending the city, he may have information on Karis Luran’s army.”

“I considered that.” Rhen is staring at him. “I am not sure that qualifies him to act as your lieutenant.”

“I did not offer him the position. I simply made it known. You asked me to assemble a passable contingent of guards—”

“Yes. Passable. If a missing arm would keep him out of the army, it would certainly keep him out of the Royal Guard.”

“He is experienced.” Grey pauses. “That carries weight with me. I would like to offer him the opportunity to try.”

“It is essential that we appear united and strong—”

“Hire him,” I say.

Rhen snaps his head around. “What did you say?”

“I said, hire him.” I swallow, but refuse to look away from him. “Or give him a fair trial at least. I don’t care if he has one arm. I trust Grey’s judgment. Just like you said you do.”

He sighs and turns to look at me. “My lady, please. You do not know—”

“Don’t patronize me,” I say. “Is this an alliance or not?”

That draws him up short. He studies me, then inhales to speak.

I take a step closer. “Am I a princess or not?”

His eyes narrow. I can practically see the wheels turning in that strategic little head of his.

I turn to look at Grey before my nerves can get the best of me. “If you think Jamison is suitable, test him. If he passes, hire him. That is my order, Commander.”

I wait for his eyes to flick to Rhen, for him to wait for an order from his prince.

He doesn’t. His eyes never leave mine. “Yes, my lady.”

I turn and stalk up the marble steps into the castle.

Adrenaline chases through my veins at a rapid clip, and I’m worried I’m going to collapse into giggles or hysterics or have a full-on nervous breakdown. I hurry along as quickly as I can, heading for the staircase that will lead me to my room. Arabella’s room. Whatever.

A hand catches my arm and turns me around.

Rhen. His touch is gentle, but firm. He all but pins me against the banister, and his expression is a combination of irritation and amusement. “What are you doing?”

I feel a little breathless again. “Going to my room. I need to change out of these clothes.”

His eyes search mine. “Are you playing with me?”

“I’m not sure how sweaty, day-old clothes could be a game.” I move to slip away from him.

He puts a hand on the railing, trapping me there. “Do you think me inflexible, my lady?”

It’s not a question I was expecting, and his closeness combined with all this adrenaline has my heart pounding. “Why?”

“Because I sense that you feel every move you make must be an act of aggression. If you truly had an army at your disposal, I would be worried.” His voice is light, almost soft, but the words carry weight.

I study him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You act as if you must take before I can give.” Rhen shakes his head slightly. “You need not countermand me with Grey.” He looks almost disappointed. “As with yesterday, when you secreted the food. You need not hide your motives if there is something you want.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“My lady. Harper. Princess,” he says pointedly. “How is it you are not understanding?”

“Understanding what?”

Rhen puts his hands on my arms, and even through my sweater, I feel his strength. Goose bumps spring up along my skin.

He leans in a bit. “Whether the curse breaks or not, you are willing to help my people. I am the Crown Prince of Emberfall. If there is something within my power to give you, all you must do is ask.”

I stare up at him. My lips part, but no sound comes out.

He lets me go. “Forgive me. I am denying you your rest.”

I still don’t know what to say.

While I’m standing there trying to figure it out, he moves away, strides across the grand foyer, and heads out into the sunlight.