Page 29 of The Curse Between Us

Edric gave him a reassuring clap on the shoulder. “Good,” he said. “Will you see to the stables as well? Ensure they’re swept and stocked, and everything is ready for our guests?” Alec nodded quickly, already turning to follow through on the task.

“Of course,” Alec responded without hesitation. He glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment, but his gaze faltered, and for a second, something flashed in his eyes. Edric barely caught it, but it was enough to make him pause. There was a moment of tension, something unspoken that lingered between them.

Edric’s brows furrowed slightly as he met Alec’s eyes. “Thank you, Alec. I’m off to inform Zephyr of the news.”

Alec’s face tightened, and his lips curved into a tight smile. “Please give him my best wishes,” he said, though there was something off in the way he said it.

Edric frowned, unsure of what he was seeing. Alec had not returned to see Zephyr since that first visit, and Edric couldn’t help but wonder why. “You could tell him yourself,” he suggested, his voice gentle but curious. “If you fear taking ill yourself, I can assure you it does not seem to be catching.”

Alec smiled again, this time a little more stiffly, and shook his head. “Another time,” he replied, his tone clipped. “I have other tasks that demand my attention.”

There was more to this than Alec was letting on, but Edric didn’t press the matter further. Perhaps it was something he would sort out later, but for now, the visit tomorrow and the preparations took precedence. He gave Alec a final nod. “Until tomorrow, then.”

With the conversation finished, Edric quickly made his way down the corridors, his steps purposeful. He greeted a few passing servants and nobles with a smile, but didn’t pause to speak with anyone. He had done his best to balance his duties as both a king and a husband, but the day had been long, filled with council meetings and speeches. He hadn’t seen Zephyr since this morning, and it lent a certain urgency to his movements now. He was eager to share the good news, to see Zephyr’s reaction. The thought of bringing a smile to his face lifted his spirits.

He reached his chambers quickly, though out of habit, he knocked lightly on the door before entering. The room was dim, the light from the fireplace casting a soft glow over the bed. Zephyr was curled up on the sheets, his body draped in a thin linen blanket. One arm flung out from under it, his hair tousled and his face partially hidden.

Edric’s mouth tightened slightly as he took in the sight of him. Zephyr’s condition had worsened slowly over the weeks, the physical toll of his illness making him look smaller, more fragile. The sharpness of his features—the hollow of his cheeks, the jut of his collarbone—was a stark reminder of just how much he had lost. It pained Edric to see him like this, even though he did his best to hide his worry.

With a tender motion, Edric reached out and swept a strand of dark hair from Zephyr’s brow. Zephyr sighed softly and shifted in his sleep, not waking. Edric leaned down, his voice low and gentle. “Zephyr,” he said, his words meant to rouse him without disturbing him too much. “I’m sorry to wake you, but there’s news I thought you would wish to hear.”

Zephyr stirred, blinking up at him as his eyes opened, the familiar intense blue gaze meeting Edric’s. Edric was always struck by the depth of them, a color like no other he had ever seen, as if the entire sky had been captured within them. “News?” Zephyr repeated, his voice rough with sleep.

“Good news,” Edric said with a small smile. He reached for the ever-present cup of water that sat by Zephyr’s bedside, holding it to his lips. “The delegation of your fellow Eskarvens should arrive by this time tomorrow.”

A slow smile spread across Zephyr’s face, the first real spark of energy Edric had seen from him all day. He watched with a sense of satisfaction as Zephyr’s features softened with the news, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

“That is indeed good news,” Zephyr replied, his voice stronger now. He sat up slightly, draining the last of the water. Then, with a small gesture, he indicated for more. Over the past weeks, they had developed a simple but effective way of communicating, with Zephyr making subtle motions when he needed something. It was a small comfort for both of them, a routine that brought some normalcy in a world that had become increasingly uncertain.

“I will be there to greet them when they arrive,” Zephyr said, his tone full of determination. The strength in his voice was unmistakable, and Edric felt a flicker of pride at his resolve. Despite everything, Zephyr was still determined to play his part.

Edric hesitated, then spoke softly. “Should I leave you to rest now, then?” He didn’t want to intrude, but he respected Zephyr’s need for rest.

Zephyr gave him a wry smile, his gaze softening with the familiar affection that always made Edric’s heart skip a beat. “No.” He shook his head. “We both know I will fall asleep again soon. But for now, stay.” He patted the side of the bed, inviting Edric to join him.

Once they had determined that Edric was not at risk of succumbing to the illness that plagued Zephyr, their relationship began to shift. What had once been an atmosphere of careful distance and cautious interactions now evolved into something deeper, something more comfortable. Their once limited contact grew bolder, though still cautious, as they both navigated the fine line between intimacy and the inevitable fear of accidental harm. It was a delicate dance, one where the stakes were far higher than either of them cared to admit.

After a long and taxing day filled with meetings, speeches, and more diplomatic affairs than Edric cared to remember, the soft, quiet refuge of Zephyr's chamber was like a balm to his frazzled nerves. The day had been long—too long, really. As he sank back onto the wide bed beside Zephyr, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him. It was not just the comfort of a soft mattress beneath him or the absence of the political tensions that had consumed his day. It was Zephyr’s presence, still warm despite the lingering chill that had followed him since his illness began. There was something profoundly grounding in sharing this space with him, even if they kept a respectful distance.

They had settled into a rhythm that, while not perfect, was enough to bring them some semblance of peace. Though they still maintained that careful gap between them, the unspoken understanding was clear. As long as Edric remained awake and conscious, he could keep himself from inadvertently touching Zephyr, sparing them both the sharp, unbearable pain that accompanied such contact. It was strange, almost maddening, to be so close to someone and yet be kept at arm’s length by something so intangible as this illness. But as time wore on, it became easier to breathe around the space that existed between them, learning to find comfort in proximity rather than touch.

There were moments—small, fleeting moments—when Edric allowed himself to entertain the thought of drifting off to sleep beside Zephyr. He imagined the peaceful rhythm of Zephyr’s steady breathing, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the quiet sound of him in the space that surrounded them. It was the sort of peace Edric longed for, the kind of peace that could settle his thoughts, calm the constant buzzing of responsibilities and worries. But no matter how much he craved the solace of sleep, he could never fully let his guard down. The fear, however irrational, still gripped him—fear of crossing that invisible boundary, of reaching out to comfort Zephyr in his sleep and inadvertently causing them both that searing pain.

Tonight, though, there was a certain gentleness to the atmosphere. Zephyr lay propped up on his side, his face tucked into his hands, his body relaxed in a way that was almost foreign to Edric. He had spent so many weeks hovering between rest and strain, often too ill to fully engage with the world around him. But tonight, something had shifted. Zephyr was more alert than usual, more talkative. And it was this change, this little spark of life, that Edric treasured most.

With a sigh of relief, Edric stripped off the weight of the day—the embroidered tunic that had been a symbol of his title, the jewels that had glittered in the harsh light of the council chambers, the weight of leadership that seemed to settle on his shoulders more heavily each day. He left them all in a heap beside the bed, grateful for the reprieve. As he climbed onto the bed beside Zephyr, he could feel the exhaustion seep from his bones. He stretched out beside him, leaning back into the plush softness of the pillows, the coolness of the sheets a welcome contrast to the warmth that lingered between them. It was a simple luxury, this moment.

“Tell me about the delegates,” Edric suggested, his voice low but inviting. “Is there anything I ought to know before they arrive tomorrow?”

Zephyr rolled onto his side, his body shifting gracefully beneath the soft covers. He tucked his hands under his face, a familiar gesture that spoke of comfort and ease. He didn’t answer immediately, his thoughts momentarily drifting before he began speaking, his voice soft but confident, recounting a memory that made Edric smile.

Zephyr launched into a story about the time the high priestess had caught him nodding off during a long and particularly dull worship service. The tale was laced with the sort of humor Edric had grown accustomed to hearing from him, and though Zephyr's words were lighthearted, Edric could hear the undercurrent of warmth and nostalgia in his voice. He could picture the younger version of Zephyr—the one who had sat, unbothered by the weight of kingship or the responsibilities that now clung to him like a second skin.

As Zephyr continued, Edric found himself listening intently, hanging on every word. He could feel the energy in Zephyr’s voice as it grew more animated, the edges of his story sharpening as he relived the embarrassment of being caught by the high priestess, the playful banter between him and the other initiates, and the way it had all seemed so far removed from the political complexities that had consumed Zephyr’s life in more recent years.

Edric found himself treasuring these small glimpses into Zephyr’s past, these fragments of the man he had been before the illness and the weight of the crown had shaped him into someone more guarded. For a moment, Edric imagined what it would be like to know that Zephyr—the carefree, impish version who had no burden heavier than trying to avoid falling asleep in the middle of a religious ceremony. It was a version of Zephyrthat Edric had never fully known, but he found himself hoping, more and more, that he might one day get the chance to meet him.

There was a gentle, almost wistful smile on Zephyr’s face as he spoke, his eyes bright with the memory. He had always been a man who wore his heart on his sleeve in moments like these, letting his guard slip when he spoke of things that made him feel at ease. Edric admired that about him—how even in his illness, even in the weight of everything he carried, Zephyr could still find the lightness to share a laugh, to recount moments that made him feel human, not just a symbol of leadership.

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