Page 31 of The Curse Between Us

Edric opened his mouth to protest, to suggest that the conversation could wait until later, but Zephyr, to his surprise, cut him off. “I have been ill,” he said simply. He looked at Edric, and for a moment, there was a quiet apology in his gaze. “I had hoped we might leave this discussion until later, but I should have known your first concern would be for my health.”

“Zephyr,” Edric said under his breath, a soft warning in his tone, but there was no real heat behind it.

“They deserve to know,” Zephyr said firmly, though his eyes avoided Edric’s. “I should have told them sooner.”

“What do they deserve to know?” Clara asked, her voice sharp.

Zephyr took a deep breath before continuing, his voice careful. “King Edric and I believe that there is a... fundamental incompatibility between myself and the environment here in Rafria, and that this is what has caused my prolonged illness.”

Much to Edric’s relief, Zephyr refrained from mentioning the matter of touch. That, Edric thought, was something more personal, more intimate—a subject he wasn’t yet prepared to address in front of the Eskarvens. The delicate matter of their physical relationship, of the invisible boundary between them caused by the illness, was something Edric hoped could remain unspoken for now. He was grateful that Zephyr had respected that, letting the discussion focus on the illness itself rather than the deeper, more complicated emotions it stirred.

However, Clara’s sharp gaze narrowed as she processed the words Zephyr had shared. “A fundamental incompatibility,” she repeated, her tone cool and thoughtful. “Then—are we not also at risk, being here?”

The question hit Edric harder than he expected. He had been so focused on Zephyr’s well-being that he hadn’t considered the potential danger to the delegation. Would they, too, be vulnerable? The tension in the room escalated as he turned to Zephyr for an answer, hoping his knowledge and experience could diffuse the mounting concern.

Zephyr, ever composed, responded swiftly, much to Edric’s relief. “I do not believe so,” he said, his voice steady and calm. “Or at least not immediately. It took over a week for thesickness to truly affect me, and I believe it should do the same with you. As your visit is only intended to last three days, I do not believe you are in any danger.”

Edric felt a small weight lift from his chest at Zephyr’s reassurances. Still, the undercurrent of unease remained, as Clara’s gaze did not soften. Her skepticism lingered in the air, and the silence that followed her question was heavy with the weight of potential doubt.

Then, without warning, Max, who had remained quiet until now, crossed his arms over his chest. His face, once open and pleasant, was now darkened with suspicion. “How could you allow this to happen?” he demanded. His voice was sharp, his features tight with anger. “Is this part of some attempt to weaken us? To humiliate us?” He turned to Herbert, his mistrust radiating through every line of his body. “Was this your idea, Chief Strategist?” he spat, the title dripping with disdain.

Edric’s body stiffened at the accusation. He had anticipated tension, yes, but not this level of hostility. He knew Max’s loyalty to his people was unwavering, but to suggest such a thing—it was unthinkable. Edric was about to speak when he felt Zephyr’s presence shift beside him. He had braced himself for a confrontation, but it was in these moments that he often forgot how much Zephyr’s presence had come to mean to him. Zephyr, despite the odds, stood resolute.

“Please.” Edric held up a hand, hoping to calm the brewing storm. “We had no idea this would happen. How could we know?” He turned his gaze to the Eskarvens, hoping to convey his sincerity, and then looked at Alec and Herbert, whose expressions were equally disbelieving. “We have never before been in this position,” he continued. “We had no way of predicting this, no means of understanding what could happen.”

Hannah, who had been quietly observing the exchange, nodded slowly. Her gaze remained fixed on Zephyr’s face,studying him with a quiet intensity. “You do not look well, cousin,” she said bluntly, her words carrying a certain sharpness. “I ask you now, with all those assembled here as witnesses: Do you believe your suffering has been deliberate, or in any way influenced by the Rafrians?”

Edric held his breath, his eyes flicking nervously between Zephyr and the others. He knew this was a question Zephyr had to answer himself, and he prayed the response would calm the rising tensions. Zephyr took a moment, his eyes thoughtful, before he finally spoke.

“No,” Zephyr said, his voice steady, but Edric could hear the weight in his words. “I have been treated with care and consideration.” He turned to meet Edric’s gaze, and there was a brief flicker of something softer in his eyes—something that made Edric’s heart ache with the quiet sincerity. “This illness was not borne of any devious plan.”

Edric exhaled slowly, the tension draining from his shoulders as Zephyr spoke the words he so desperately needed to hear. He glanced around at the others, seeing the subtle shift in their expressions as they processed what had been said. Clara, in particular, seemed to relax, her posture shifting slightly. But Max, still clearly unconvinced, did not let go of his suspicion.

“Why did you not tell me this?” Alec’s voice rang out, sharp and incredulous. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at Edric as if he couldn’t believe the situation they were in. “How long has this been going on?”

Edric winced, feeling the weight of Alec’s frustration, but there was no answer that would make this situation any easier. It was too late to turn back, too late to undo the secrecy they had kept. “We had no wish to cast doubts on the alliance,” Edric explained quietly. “New and fragile as it is.”

Slowly, Clara nodded, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed the information. “A wise move,” she murmured. Hervoice held a detached calm that made Edric feel uncomfortable, as though she were already considering the political implications. “It might be interpreted as a sign of disfavour, forces beyond our control signalling their displeasure.”

A chill passed over Edric at the coldness in Clara’s voice. As High Priestess of Eskarven, she was trained to read and interpret omens, to find meaning in events that others might consider mere coincidences. The illness, the situation—it could all be framed in a way that would serve Eskarven’s interests. But Edric had no intention of letting that happen.

“But you have resisted it,” Clara continued, her attention shifting back to Zephyr. She seemed to consider him once more, her gaze lingering with a mixture of curiosity and calculating thought. “We will speak more of this, my prince.”

Zephyr inclined his head gravely, his posture formal despite his frailty. “Yes, my lady.”

The conversation was growing heavier, more complex. The delicate balance between diplomacy and truth was beginning to unravel, and Edric could sense that he needed to steer things in a different direction. Thankfully, it was Herbert who spoke up, cutting through the tension with a sharp but measured tone.

“If I may?” Herbert’s voice was firm, commanding attention. All heads turned in his direction, and he gave a small nod. “I suggest we continue with the proceedings as planned. The feast tonight, the talks tomorrow, and the tournament the day after. If Prince Zephyr is correct”—he shrugged lightly, as if to acknowledge the uncertainty of the situation—“you will not suffer any ill effects during this time, and you may return to your own kingdom without this knowledge spreading.”

Edric caught his breath, grateful for Herbert’s pragmatic approach. The suggestion was sound, a way to maintain the delicate peace while keeping the political game moving forward.But Alicia, who had been quiet until now, spoke up, her voice hesitant but insistent.

“But what of our prince?” Alicia asked, her expression one of genuine concern. She looked somewhat shocked at herself for speaking out, her voice faltering for a moment in the presence of so many important figures, but she pressed forward with a quiet determination. “He cannot remain here in this condition.”

The question was one that Edric had dreaded asking himself from the moment they first considered the possibility of Zephyr’s illness being caused by the environment. Elsie’s tonic provided temporary relief, but it was no cure. Edric hated to see his husband’s vitality draining away, hated the helplessness he felt in the face of it all.

“He will return with you, of course.” Alec spoke up, his tone matter-of-fact, as if the answer should have been obvious. He seemed frustrated, his gaze flicking to Edric with a note of disbelief that the question was even being raised. “We always intended for him to return home, to be crowned in his own hall and take over from his regent. It’s perhaps slightly earlier than anticipated, but with the delegation already here and his health in the balance, it only makes sense.”

At the far end of the table, the Eskarvens nodded in agreement, and Edric opened his mouth to protest. But the words died on his tongue.

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