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

Despite my orders, I half expect Commander Grey to return with Harper. My imagination conjures the thought of her kicking and screaming as he impassively drags her into the castle and right back up to my door.

These thoughts are fruitless. I should be planning my discussion with Karis Luran. I have spoken to my generals, and soldiers have been moved into position around the castle.

There is still a chance to save the people of Emberfall.

Perhaps there is time to find another woman to break the curse.

The thought would be hilarious if there weren’t so much desperation behind it. I pull the crystal stopper from a bottle and pour, watching as deep red liquid fills the glass. I take a sip, then remove my shirt to prepare for bed, moving across the room to toss it over the back of a chair.

There, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

The scales have spread, even in the short amount of time Harper has been gone.

A sharp knock raps at my door.

Silver hell. I grab my shirt and yank it over my head. A glittering shadow is visible through the lacing at my neck, and I pull on my jacket as well, fumbling with the leather straps to hurriedly buckle them into place.

“Enter,” I call.

The door swings open to reveal Grey. He is windblown and red-cheeked from his time outside the castle territory, and his bracers are gone, but he has returned unscathed.

And alone.

“So it is done,” I say. “She is gone.”

He nods.

I seize the glass and down it in one swallow. “Come in. Close the door.”

He hesitates for the barest moment, then says, “I saw you have doubled the soldiers standing at the edge of the castle grounds. In preparation for Karis Luran’s arrival, I would advise that we station guards at—”

“Grey.”

My guard commander falls silent.

“I don’t want to talk about Karis Luran.” I pull the crystal stopper from the bottle and pour again. Deep red swirls to fill the glass.

He waits.

Without hesitation, I fill a second, then extend it to Commander Grey.

He looks back at me yet makes no move to take it.

“Do not make me order you,” I say.

He takes the glass from my hand.

I raise my own as if to make a toast. A line forms between his eyebrows, but he does the same.

“Forgive me,” I say quietly. “I failed.”

He goes very still, lets out a breath, and to my surprise, drains the glass. It makes him cough.

I raise my eyebrows and smile. “Am I going to find you on the floor in a moment?”

“Possibly.” He shakes his head and takes a breath as if it burned going down. His voice has gone husky. “That is not wine.”

“No. Sugared spirits. From the Valkins Valley. My father always kept some on hand.”

“I remember.”

“I imagine you do.” I wonder if he remembers that my father never let anyone touch it—not even me. The rule was so ingrained in me that it took many seasons before I dared to try it, even after he died.

I drain my own glass, then lift the decanter again. “More?”

He hesitates, then lifts his glass. “Please.” Though he doesn’t look entirely sure about that.

I give a wan smile and pour. “Had I known you would be a willing drinking companion, I would have offered ages ago.”

“Ages ago, I would not have been willing.” He lifts his glass the same way I did a moment ago, then waits for me to mirror his movement. The alcohol hasn’t hit him yet; his eyes are clear and direct. “You owe me no apology.”

He downs this glass with the same speed as the first.

My smile widens. “You truly will be on the floor, Commander.” I nod at the chairs by the fire. “Disarm yourself. Sit.”

When I claim the chair closest to the dressing room, he unbuckles his sword belt and eases into the chair before the fire, laying the weapon on the floor at his side. He’s definitely not drunk yet if he’s keeping his weapons in easy reach.

“Another?” I say.

“Sunrise is not far off, my lord. I should not …”

His voice trails off as I fill his glass for a third time.

Grey sighs—but he takes the glass when I offer it.

I do not wait for a toast this time. I simply drain my own. “Do you remember the night Lilith attacked me and you brought me here, to my rooms?”

“Which time?”

Indeed. “The day Harper arrived.”

“I do.”

The alcohol is beginning to burn its way through my veins, turning my thoughts loose inside my head. “I said I would release you from your oath if I failed to break the curse.”

His expression goes still. “You did.”

I know he is remembering what I asked next: that he kill me if I had not yet broken the curse, and if a sign of the impending change presented itself.

The fire snaps in the quiet darkness.

“I release you from your oath, Grey,” I say. “Once we have met with Karis Luran, I want you to—”

“No.”

“What?”

He tips back the glass and drains this one, then slams it onto the table between the chairs with a bit too much force. He coughs. “I said no.”

“Grey—”

He stands and draws his dagger so quickly that I jerk back, suddenly certain he’s going to plunge it into my chest right here and now.

Instead he flips the blade in his hand and holds it out to me, hilt first. “Use my dagger if you wish. But I will not end a near eternity of service by destroying the very man I swore …” His words begin to slur together. “I swore to protect.”

I snort with laughter, but cover it with a cough. “Put your weapon away before you hurt yourself.”

His eyes narrow and he slams the dagger onto the side table. All the slamming—the glass, the blade—is curious, until he moves to sit and nearly misses the chair.

This time I laugh out loud. “Grey, hardly ten minutes have passed.”

“Blame your father.” His voice is still husky, but now that he’s seated, he looks more stable. “It was his order that the guardsmen abstain.”

“Regardless of the results of my meeting with Karis Luran—and regardless of whether you will grant my final request—I believe you should leave here once the meeting is complete, Grey.”

“And where would I go?”

“You’re a talented swordsman. You would have no trouble finding work. Shall I write you a letter of recommendation?”

“You joke about this.”

“I have failed, Grey. I can drink myself into a stupor and stomp my feet in fury, but that will not change things. Harper is gone. She did not love me.” I pause. “I had thought that perhaps she could …” I let my voice trail off and shake my head. Then I lift my eyes to meet his. “You should go back for her. Once all is said and done. I detected a spark between you …”

He looks away.

“Was I wrong?” I say. “Or did you leave your knives and bracers with another?”

“You are not wrong.” He hesitates, then speaks quickly, tripping over his words in a way that is almost comical. “That is to say—I have never acted to dive—to divert her attentions from you—”

“I know.”

He shakes his head, then does it again more forcefully. “I speak too freely. This cursed drink has bewitched my thoughts.”

“Most people like it.” I pause. “So you will go back for Harper?” The thought tugs at me in an ugly way. I want the best for her. I want the best for Grey. It seems fitting that they might find each other as part of my downfall.

But my failure burns from inside, so much more painful than what Lilith can do.

“I will,” he says.

He doesn’t need the dagger. This conversation is piercing my heart quite well. I pour another glass. “Good.”

“Because she has asked for me to return.”

I snap my head up. “What?”

“Her final order before I left her at her door. For me to return once she has had a chance to settle things with her family. For me to bring her back to Emberfall.”

Now I am wishing I had not imbibed the sugared spirits. My thoughts trip and stumble in an attempt to keep up. “When? Grey—when?”

“Once day hence. Midnight.”

One day. One day.

“Too late,” I say.

His gaze sharpens—or it tries to. “Why?”

Any hope that flared in my chest has burned out quickly and turned to ash. I unbuckle the jacket across my chest, then pull the shirt wide, so he can see the scales.

He does not gasp, which I expect, but instead sighs, then picks up his glass again. “I have changed my mind. Another, if you please.”

I pour. We drink.

We sit in silence for the longest time, until the alcohol begins to send my thoughts drifting toward sleep. The room is warm, the fire crackling invitingly. My eyelids flicker. A part of me wishes I could drift into death right now, as if it would be as easy a slide as sleep.

Not yet. I owe my people this much.

“I do not recall scales before,” Grey says eventually.

My eyes open. “I thought they were new as well.”

“They’re really quite lovely—” He cuts himself short and swears. “Silver hell. My lord—I mean to say—”

I laugh again, but this time it’s slow. Lazy. “You’re amusing when you’re drunk. I truly feel I have missed an opportunity.”

His expression sobers. “You think Harper will be too late?” A pause. “I could return for her sooner.”

“No. Grey. If you return at all, do it for yourself.” I touch a hand to the scales again, gingerly so they do not cut me. “We may not have one day, let alone two.” I pause. “If not love, Harper saw … promise in me. I would not—I would not have her see the monster I become.”

“It is not—” He cuts himself off and swears again. “I should not speak freely—”

“You should. I have released you from your oath. You have served me far longer than any man should. Speak your mind, Grey.”

He looks at me. “Your time is not up. You have rallied your people. You conceived a plan that I found ludicrous when I first heard it, but you have brought it to pass.”

“Thanks in no small part to you.”

He waves me off. “We have guards. An army. A meeting with the Queen of Syhl Shallow. A country full of people to protect.”

I pick up my glass and fill it again. “Indeed.”

He snatches the glass out of my hand and throws it into the fireplace. It explodes with a crash and a sizzle, and I stare up at him.

“You accomplished these things because you dared to act like you could.” He picks up his dagger and re-sheathes it with a vengeance. “Lilith has not won. Not yet. You have not yet lost. Stop acting as if you have.”

He’s so commanding. So sure. It is no wonder he has gained the respect of his guardsmen so quickly. I smile. Incline my head. “Yes, my lord.”

For a moment, anger flashes across his features, but he must decide it’s not worth it. He drops back into his chair. “You are incorrigible. I have no idea how I put up with you for so long.”

I raise an eyebrow, more amused than anything else. “Is that the drink talking?”

The shadow of a wicked smile finds his lips. “You told me to speak my mind.”

I sit back in the chair. Sudden emotion sweeps over me, thickening my throat and biting through the haze of the drink. “I tried, Grey.” My voice almost catches, but I stop it. “I truly tried.”

“I know.”

“There is no way out. You once said I plan my actions twenty moves in advance. There are no moves left to make.”

“Then perhaps it is time to play like a guardsman, and not like a king.”

I blink at him.

“Stop planning,” he says. “Wait for them—Lilith, Karis Luran—to make their move. You’ve had season after season to dwell and plan and strategize.” He fishes his deck of cards out of the pouch on his belt, then flips them between his fingers to shuffle.

His eyes meet mine. “Perhaps now it is time for you to think on your feet.”