Page 33 of The Curse Between Us

One by one, his opponents conceded defeat, until he stood face-to-face with Alec once more. The crowd had fallen silent, all eyes on the two brothers as they circled each other warily. Alec’s face was taut with concentration, but Edric’s grin had turned into something sharper, a challenge. The crowd watched in anticipation, but Edric barely noticed them.

Alec made the first move, striking with careful precision. Edric danced back, narrowly dodging the blow. “What point are you trying to prove?” Alec asked, his tone a mixture of frustration and confusion. “You do not need to impress the Eskarvens, Edric.”

“It isn’t that,” Edric answered shortly, the words sharp. He swung again, but Alec blocked it effortlessly.

“Then what?” Alec asked, his voice laced with genuine confusion.

Edric shrugged and extended his foot, hoping to trip Alec. But his brother was too quick, too skilled, and he sidestepped the move with ease.

“If you win, I might tell you,” Edric taunted, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips, though the pain inside him remained as raw as ever.

Alec laughed, the sound ringing out across the tournament field, and the spark of challenge in his eyes flared brighter than ever. The tension between them shifted, and their swords became the only language they spoke. The crowd faded into the background as the brothers locked eyes, their movements fluid and fierce, each blow, each parry, a test of wills. The air was thick with adrenaline, and for a brief moment, Edric felt an intense connection to the fight, as though it was the only thing that mattered.

Alec’s sword flashed as he pressed forward, his strikes sharp, precise—but there was a weariness beginning to creep into his movements. It was a subtle shift at first, butEdric noticed it immediately. Alec, ever the seasoned fighter, was beginning to tire. Meanwhile, Edric’s anger, that raw, unrelenting force, still burned in his chest, fueling his every move. The frustration, the helplessness, the pain of knowing Zephyr would be gone soon—it all coursed through him like fire, lending him strength he hadn’t known he had.

They danced across the field, their blades clashing with a resounding ring, but Edric could feel the shift in the fight. Alec’s swings were slower now, his reactions more delayed, and Edric seized the opportunity. With a burst of speed, he closed the gap between them and, with one fluid motion, swept his blade up to rest at Alec’s throat.

Panting heavily, Alec took a step back, raising his hands in surrender. “I yield,” he said, his voice laced with admiration and a touch of disbelief, and the crowd erupted into applause, their cheers echoing across the grounds.

Edric stood there for a moment, his chest heaving, his body thrumming with the aftershocks of the fight. The adrenaline drained from his system quickly, leaving him feeling light-headed and hollow, as though the very act of releasing his anger had taken something from him. He exhaled shakily, wiping his brow as the applause continued.

An attendant approached, a smile on her face as she held out a golden pillow, atop which rested a crown of red roses. The scent of the flowers filled the air, and Edric reached for it automatically, his mind still reeling from the intensity of the fight. She motioned for him to lower his head, but instead, Edric lifted his gaze, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on the highest level, where Zephyr stood.

Zephyr, the one person who seemed to exist outside of everything else, stood there in his simple but elegant attire—white and grey, a striking contrast to the vibrant colors of the tournament below. He was clapping, a smile lighting up his face,his eyes shining with pride as he cheered Edric’s success. But there was something else in his expression, something tender, a quiet recognition of the bond that had grown between them over the past weeks.

A surge of clarity swept through Edric, cool and refreshing, as if the noise of the world around him had suddenly dulled and all that remained was Zephyr. The weight of the circlet in his hands seemed to ground him in that moment, the decision he had made crystallizing in his chest. His mind was clear now, and he knew what he had to do. He took the circlet from the attendant, holding it gently in his hands, and made his way up the stairs once more, the cheers of the crowd barely registering in his ears. His focus was entirely on Zephyr, on that lone figure standing at the top, high above all the rest.

Zephyr saw him coming, his eyes widening in surprise as Edric climbed the final steps. He shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Edric, that was—” Zephyr began, but his words faltered as Edric, without warning, dropped to his knees before him.

The crowd fell silent as Edric knelt, holding up the circlet of roses with a fierce, unwavering gaze. “I offer this token, husband,” he said, his voice loud enough for Zephyr to hear but soft enough that it seemed to carry only for the two of them, “as a sign of my commitment to you and to the alliance between us.”

It was impulsive. It was dramatic. It was likely ridiculous. But none of that mattered in the face of what Edric felt in that moment. He had fought, he had raged, and now he was offering the only thing he could—his heart, his loyalty, his promise.

Zephyr’s eyes softened, and there was something in his expression that made Edric’s heart skip a beat—something that spoke of shared history, of unspoken words and quiet understanding. He swallowed visibly, his throat tight, andnodded. He gestured for Edric to rise, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out, though they both knew there would be no touching.

With trembling hands, Edric took the circlet and carefully placed it atop Zephyr’s head, the roses resting lightly against his hair. The action felt like a lifetime in itself—slow, reverent, full of significance. He avoided Zephyr’s gaze, knowing that if he looked into those eyes, the flood of emotion inside him would spill over. He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper as he leaned in close, close enough that no one else could hear the words he had to say.

“I am coming with you,” Edric whispered fiercely, his breath warm against Zephyr’s ear, though he could never touch him. “When you leave tomorrow, I am coming with you.”

The words were a declaration, a promise, an act of defiance against the forces that would tear them apart. Edric had made his choice, and there would be no turning back. He wasn’t asking for permission—he was telling Zephyr that no matter the distance, no matter the risk, he would be by his side.

Zephyr didn’t respond immediately. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the weight of everything unspoken. Edric pulled back slightly, searching Zephyr’s face for any sign of what he was thinking, of what he was feeling. For a moment, there was nothing but the soft flutter of his breath, the quiet sound of his heartbeat, and then Zephyr nodded once, his expression unreadable, his eyes holding a mixture of emotions that Edric couldn’t quite decipher.

“I never expected anything like this from you, Edric,” Zephyr said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But I will not stop you. If you truly wish it, then… you have my word.”

The crowd, still silent, watched the exchange with bated breath, but Edric’s world had narrowed to that single moment. The future was uncertain, full of danger and unknowns, but hehad made his choice. For the first time since they had met, he felt a glimmer of hope flicker in the dark. They were together, and no matter what came next, they would face it as one.

As Edric rose to his feet, his chest still tight with the weight of the decision he had just made, he couldn’t help but feel the beginning of something new, something powerful. The tournament had ended, the crowd had dispersed, but for Edric and Zephyr, the real challenge was just beginning. And no matter what, Edric knew he would never let Zephyr face it alone.

Chapter Nine

Zephyr’s fever had started to ease as soon as they began the downward descent through the mountain pass. It was a subtle shift, but undeniable. The oppressive warmth in his chest had lessened, and the dull ache in his head slowly gave way to a refreshing clarity. If there had been even a sliver of doubt remaining that the illness had been connected to his presence in Rafria, it evaporated now. He inhaled deeply, the crisp, cool mountain air sweeping over him, soothing his body in a way that felt almost sacred. It was as though the very land had greeted him, its embrace a balm for his troubled health.

Zephyr sat up straighter in his saddle, feeling the tension in his muscles begin to ease as they descended further. He looked around at the familiar terrain, the jagged peaks that rose around them like sentinels. This was Eskarven, his home, and it had been far too long since he had breathed its air. The weight in his chest lightened further, a sense of peace beginning to settle within him.

As his gaze moved over his shoulder, he caught sight of Edric, who had been riding in silence beside him. Their eyes met, and Zephyr raised an eyebrow. Edric, who had been deep in thought, offered a rueful smile before nudging his horse forward to match Zephyr’s pace. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft but with genuine concern.

"Better already," Zephyr replied, inhaling the mountain air again, savoring the way it filled his lungs. "It’s goodto be home," he added, the words slipping out with an uncharacteristic vulnerability. He had been away from Eskarven for so long that the simple fact of returning—of being here—felt almost surreal.

---