Page 23 of The Curse Between Us

“An excellent idea,” Edric said, seizing the opportunity to redirect the energy in the room. “The tournaments are competitions of athleticism and skill,” he explained for Zephyr’s benefit. “They were once a beloved institution, but they fell out of favour when it was decided we ought to focus on actual battle tactics and not performances, so to speak.” He did not have to mention whose decision that was. He could see in Zephyr’s eyes that he understood it had been a command from Edric’s late father, the weight of the old king’s shadow still lingering in the corners of the room.

Zephyr tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his face. “I should like to see one,” he replied. He sat down, propping his chin in one gloved hand, eyes alight with interest.

Herbert scribbled something on the parchment in front of him and looked up at Edric across the table. “It would have excellent symbolic value,” he said, adjusting his spectacles. “A marker of the new era.”

“An era of celebration?” Tamara asked, her voice tight as she twisted her wedding band around her finger. “Do we so easily forget those we have lost over the years, and go back to playing at war as though they did not give their lives for us all?”

Edric winced, her words cutting deeper than she likely intended. Tamara’s husband, Isaac, had died a few months prior, and she had become withdrawn and brittle ever since.

“We never forget,” Edric said as gently as he could, his voice low but firm. “We have all lost loved ones, Tamara. But if we wish to honour their sacrifices, moving forward in friendship and stability is the best way to do so. The tournaments need not be a reenactment of war. They could be a demonstration of unity, a chance for our people to celebrate life and resilience.”

Tamara’s mouth tightened, but she made no further protest. Edric made a note to speak with her privately later, but for now, he was relieved to see both Missa and Skye lean in to whisper to her, the tension in her body slowly easing as they did.

Zephyr cleared his throat and rose to his feet once more. He stumbled slightly as he did, and Edric almost reached out to steady him, but Zephyr shot him a warning glance and Edric pulled his hand back quickly, fingers curling into his palm.

“This leads well into a matter I wished to raise,” Zephyr said. All the faces in the room turned in his direction, polite interest on some and wariness on others. “As you all know, the marriage between King Edric and myself is representative of the new bond between our kingdoms. But I am not my entirekingdom. In order to truly cement that bond, I believe it would be beneficial to encourage more interaction between our people, in order to see one another not as enemies but as friends and partners in a new venture of peace.” He paused for a moment and took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling as he steadied himself.

“To that end, I propose that we invite a delegation from Eskarven to visit us here. Perhaps timed to coincide with the tournament.”

“Absolutely not!” Martin exclaimed immediately, surging to his feet. “They will overrun us. This is all an attempt at invasion!”

“Peace, Martin,” Alec said sharply, his voice like a blade through the rising tension. “You are welcome to express your opinions, but you will not incite panic or cast unfounded aspersions on any council member. Including the newest among us.”

Edric gave his brother a grateful look as Martin subsided, still muttering angrily to himself, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the polished marble table.

“I think it is a fine idea,” Alec continued, his voice steady and resonant, the same tone he once used to inspire confidence in his troops before leading them into battle. “Prince Zephyr is correct: how can we form an alliance with people we do not know? An invitation to a small delegation shows our good faith, and will allow us to introduce the idea of travel across the mountains.”

“I approve,” Hadley said with a sharp nod, her eyes gleaming with interest. “I would very much like to meet my counterpart from Eskarven. It would be invaluable to understand how they govern.”

At that, Zephyr smiled slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “I do believe you and Clara would makeformidable allies,” he said. “And she would be glad to meet you as well. She has long hoped for a day when she might speak with Rafria’s council directly, rather than through letters carried by messengers.”

Edric scanned the table, bracing for another outburst like Martin’s, but he saw only cautious curiosity, and in Tamara’s case, reluctant acceptance. The faint furrow in her brow remained, but she no longer clutched her hands so tightly in her lap.

Then, to his surprise, Elsie spoke, her voice soft but clear. A healer and a scholar, she rarely involved herself deeply in council matters, preferring to observe and offer insights only when she felt it absolutely necessary.

“Invite them,” she said, her gaze steady. “There is much we could learn from one another. And much healing to be done, on both sides.”

“We are decided, then?” Edric asked, his voice lifting with hope. He waited for the confirming nods of the council members, even Martin’s grudging dip of the head, then smiled. “Excellent. We will discuss the details at a later date, once our Chief Strategist has drafted an invitation and a schedule for the proposed visit.” He cast a look at Herbert, who was already furiously scribbling on his parchment, lips moving silently as he shaped the words.

“If there is no other business to be discussed, I suggest we disband early.”

Chairs scraped against the stone floor as the council members rose, murmuring their farewells, some warm and sincere, others curt and restrained. Martin stalked out without a word, but Skye lingered to offer Zephyr a genuine smile before following Missa and Eileen through the arched doorway.

Once the room emptied, leaving only Alec, Herbert, Edric, and Zephyr, Edric let out a long, weary breath and collapsed back into his seat, rubbing at his eyes.

“That went far better than I had imagined,” he admitted, voice laced with exhaustion.

“Don’t get overconfident,” Herbert muttered without looking up from his parchment. “There’s still plenty of time for things to go wrong.”

Alec snorted, clapping Herbert on the back with enough force to make the strategist’s ink blot the page. “Well, if they do, you will surely have a plan to handle them.” He guided Herbert toward the door, ignoring his grumbling. “Will you join us for dinner this evening, Edric? Zephyr?”

“Yes, of course,” Edric said, waving them off before turning to Zephyr, who hadn’t answered.

Zephyr looked pale, the flush of victory faded from his face, but his eyes shone as he gazed at Edric. “You did very well,” Edric said, feeling foolish for the awkward way he expressed his admiration. “Not that I doubted you would. Just—”

“Edric.” Zephyr shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I understand you perfectly. And thank you. I am rather relieved that it is over.”

“Then let’s pass the rest of the afternoon in a more pleasant manner,” Edric suggested, rising to his feet and extending a hand as though he might help Zephyr up, but thinking better of it and letting it fall to his side. “Have you seen our portrait gallery yet? I believe you might enjoy it.”

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