Page 14 of The Curse Between Us

“But we did not need to,” he added, his voice steady and resolute.

The words landed with force. There was no turning back now. The crowd shifted uneasily, unsure of what was coming next.

“This war with Eskarven has drained our land of its people and its energy for too long,” Edric continued, his voice growing stronger. “It has taken from all of us: friends, children, parents, siblings, all manner of loved ones. We have allowed it to consume us as completely as that fire will consume my father’s body, and today I say to you, no more.”

A breathless silence followed, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“It is no easy thing,” Edric continued, “to change a state of existence that has defined us for so long. And we could not do it alone.”

He exhaled slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew what he was about to say would change everything.

“During the fighting yesterday, Prince Zephyr of Eskarven was taken prisoner and brought back to the castle. Under the advice of Chief Strategist Herbert and Prince-General Alec, he and I have come to an agreement that will secure peace between our lands.”

There was a split-second of silence as Edric’s words settled in, the weight of his announcement hanging in the air like a thundercloud. And then, as if the dam had broken, the crowd erupted into a chaotic swirl of conversation, questions, disbelief, and hushed murmurs. Some of the older nobles, their faces lined with the experience of years on the battlefield, were clearly outraged. The very idea of forming an alliance with Eskarven, their long-time enemies, seemed preposterous, even traitorous. Their voices rang out like sharp daggers, each syllable tinged with disdain.

But what struck Edric the most, as he scanned the sea of faces, was the other expression—the one that stretched acrossthe faces of the younger ones, those with children of an age to fight, and even those battle-worn veterans who had only just returned from the front lines. It was relief. He could see it in the way their shoulders relaxed, in the way their eyes softened, as if a weight had been lifted from them, the weight of impending war that had haunted them for years. For some, it was the realization that they would never again be called to march into battle, to risk their lives in an endless war that had drained them all, emotionally and physically.

Edric let the chatter run its course, his eyes flicking from face to face, reading the unspoken words in the lines of tension, the flickers of hope, the disbelief. He didn’t try to quiet them yet, knowing that the moment would come when they needed to hear him, and when they did, he would need to make his words count.

“Please,” Edric held up a hand, his voice steady and firm. It took a moment, but gradually, the crowd’s noise began to subside, their eyes drawn to him, waiting. “I know this must come as a shock, but I assure you, I have all of your best interests at heart. I do not enter into this alliance lightly.” His gaze swept over the gathered nobles, meeting the eyes of those who had lived through the horrors of the war. He could see the skepticism, but he also saw a flicker of hope, buried deep.

“But what about Eskarven?” someone called from the back, a sharp voice cutting through the murmurs. “How can we trust them?” The question echoed in the air, and Edric felt its sting. Trust was fragile, a commodity that had been in short supply for years, especially with a neighbor like Eskarven.

Edric opened his mouth, ready to respond, but then he paused, considering the weight of the moment. If they were going to do this, they might as well do it properly. He needed to show them that this was not a reckless decision, not a naive gamble on his part, but a strategic and deliberate choice. His eyes scanned the crowd, then found Alec in the sea of faces. Alec,ever the strategist, understood immediately. He caught Edric’s gaze and gave a subtle nod, followed by a quick gesture with his left hand—a flash of the gold-and-topaz ring he wore there.

“A fair question,” Edric replied, his voice calm and measured. “But not, I think, one which I am qualified to answer.”

At that moment, the crowd began to part as a small group made its way toward the altar. Marsh, tall and imposing, led the way, clearing a path with the ease of someone accustomed to commanding space. Behind him was Eileen, her usual animated demeanor replaced by a somber expression that matched the gravity of the situation. But it was the figure following them that caught Edric’s breath.

Zephyr.

Edric’s heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of him. Zephyr walked confidently toward him, as if the courtyard were a stage meant for his presence alone. Despite being surrounded by Rafrian nobles, faces that only days ago had looked upon him with hostility and suspicion, Zephyr held himself with an unmistakable assurance. He wore the traditional garb of Rafria, though the colors and design were distinctly his own—white and silver, colors that shone almost as brightly as the sun itself. His dark hair was left bare, and he moved with the fluid grace of someone who, though not yet crowned, carried himself as though he had already taken on that mantle.

Behind Zephyr, Victor strode with a scowl on his face, his hand resting possessively on the hilt of his sword, as though daring anyone to challenge the prince’s right to be here.

Edric forced himself to breathe, his mind racing. This was it. The moment he’d been preparing for. He gave a polite nod as Zephyr drew level with him, and though his voice remained steady, Edric couldn’t hide the tightness in his chestas he spoke. “Well met, Prince Zephyr,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper in the quiet courtyard.

“Well met, King Edric,” came the reply, and the words rang out with a sharp resonance that made the air hum, as if they too carried weight beyond their simple syllables. Zephyr made a short bow to Hadley, the High Priestess, before turning to face the crowd. The courtyard had fallen silent, every eye fixed on the two of them, waiting for the next move.

“You asked how you might know that my people will not betray you,” Zephyr’s voice cut through the stillness, strong and unwavering.

No one spoke in reply, the tension too thick for anyone to challenge him. “As King Edric stated,” Zephyr continued, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, “it is a fair question. Our kingdoms have long been at war, and it is difficult to imagine anything else. But we have done so, your leaders and I. We have dared to imagine something different, something better. And now, we will dare to make it a reality. But for that, we need all of you.”

Zephyr’s words were measured, deliberate, and though they were not shouted or demanded, they carried the force of a command. In that moment, Edric felt the full weight of what they were about to embark upon—their kingdoms had been enemies for centuries, and yet here they were, standing side by side, ready to carve out a new future. Zephyr spoke like a ruler, and if Edric had any doubts about their plan, they would have vanished with Zephyr’s impassioned plea.

“We need your trust, and your willingness to put aside hate,” Zephyr continued, his voice rising ever so slightly, as though each word was a call to action. “Your loyalty, and your dreams of what you could become in a world where you do not live in fear of war. I will ask the same of my people, and together, we will build that world.”

Zephyr turned toward Edric then, and in that moment, it was as if the world narrowed down to just the two of them. All of the doubts, the fears, the weight of history, seemed to fall away as they locked eyes. It was time for the final part of their plan.

“And as a symbol of the new relationship between Rafria and Eskarven,” Zephyr said, his voice steady and unyielding, “King Edric and I have agreed to marry.”

Edric’s breath caught in his throat at the finality of Zephyr’s declaration. It was the moment they had both been working toward, the ultimate gesture of unity between their kingdoms. But it was also a deeply personal commitment, one that neither of them could take lightly. The tension in the courtyard was palpable, the crowd holding its collective breath as they processed the announcement.

It would have been the perfect moment for Edric to step forward and take Zephyr’s hand, to seal their promise with the gesture of unity. But they could not. Not yet. So, instead, Edric and Zephyr turned to face one another and bowed deeply, the most respectful courtesy one could make between two monarchs. It was a symbolic gesture, one that transcended their individual titles and roles, a promise made in the face of a shared future.

When they rose again, Edric found himself looking directly into Zephyr’s eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. There, in the depths of those blue eyes, Edric saw it—the same hesitation, the same apprehension, but also something more: a thrilling excitement, a shared understanding of what they had just committed to, and the incredible responsibility it now entailed.

In this moment, as they stood together before their people, Edric knew that they were united—not just by blood, not just by duty, but by something deeper, something that neither time nor history could erase.

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