Page 8 of The Curse Between Us

Zephyr raised an eyebrow at Edric, silently warning him with a glance. He nodded towards Alec and Herbert, who were once again embroiled in their discussion. Edric understood immediately, his eyes shadowed with an unspoken acknowledgment.

Before they could exchange further words, there was a soft knock at the door, and an attendant entered, placing a bronze tray brimming with fruit and cheese on the desk between them. She gave a brief, respectful curtsey, her eyes flicking over Zephyr with quiet curiosity before she departed with equal silence.

Alec, still visibly flustered by the heated debate, frowned at the unexpected delivery. “Did you send for this?” he asked, his tone clipped, clearly irritated at the interruption. “Edric, you can’t just bring attendants in here. If she saw Prince Zephyr, if she recognized him—”

Edric waved a dismissive hand, brushing off Alec’s concerns. “He’s dressed like one of us,” he said, his voice casual, though there was an edge to his words. “She was barely here for a moment. I highly doubt she would recognize him. Besides,” he added, turning toward Zephyr with an unreadable look, “I think we ought to show my betrothed a little more courtesy, don’t you?”

Alec’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowed in quiet frustration, but he relented with a sigh. “You’re right,” he muttered, his shoulders slumping. “I apologize, Prince Zephyr.”

Edric smiled faintly and poured a glass of water, handing it to Zephyr with careful deliberation. Zephyr reached for the glass, careful to not let his fingers touch Edric’s. Edric studied him closely, offering a tentative smile as Zephyr drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing the headache that had taken residence in his skull.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room after that, punctuated only by the occasional sound of eating or drinking. For all the words of courtesy, it was clear that none of them were truly comfortable around Zephyr. He couldn’t fault them for it. After all, this was no polite diplomatic mission or carefully arranged reception. This was the aftermath of a war. This was the reality of two kingdoms that had just moments ago been engaged in battle, their forces locked in a violent struggle for supremacy.

And as though to drive home the starkness of it all, the king lay dying just down the hall, the weight of the crown about to fall on Edric’s shoulders. Everything had changed, and none of them could even begin to understand how they would navigate the future. The only certainty was that peace now required sacrifices. And that was a burden none of them would escape.

Zephyr swallowed down the bitterness that threatened to overtake him, the sharp, unrelenting pang of grief and frustration gnawing at his chest. The weight of the loss, of his brother’s death, felt as if it had been compounded by the silence surrounding it. He wondered, with a painful clarity, what had become of Hadden’s body. Had it been returned to Eskarven, to be entombed with the other kings and queens in the sacred chambers beneath the temple? Was there some place in the world where Hadden’s memory was being honored, or had it already been lost to the sands of time, forgotten in the wake of the war? He set his glass down on the desk with a sharp thud, the sound echoing in the tense room. The force of the motion made the others pause, their gazes snapping toward him.

"What happened to Hadden?" Zephyr asked, his voice hoarse with the weight of the question. He swallowed roughly, the words coming out with more force than he intended. "To his body. And to his sword."

Herbert and Alec exchanged a brief, cautious glance, their eyes narrowing in unspoken deliberation. Edric’s expression, too, darkened, though he quickly masked it. After a moment of heavy silence, Alec spoke, his voice quieter than usual, as if weighing the impact of his words carefully. “We did not touch it,” he said, his eyes not quite meeting Zephyr’s. “Either of them. We were preoccupied with our own king, and with you.”

Zephyr felt his throat tighten at the mention of Hadden’s sword. It wasn’t just an object; it was a symbol of their bond, their shared history, the battles they had fought together. He nodded sharply, pushing the pain aside. So, it was likely that the Eskarven forces had taken Hadden’s body with them when they retreated from the battlefield. They would have made their way back to Eskarven, honoring their fallen, though Zephyr had not been there to help guide the procession, not to offer his ownfarewell. He had been left behind, stranded in this foreign land, unsure of what the future held.

“I would like to visit your temple, if permitted,” he said, his voice more measured now, though it carried an undercurrent of resolve. “To offer prayers on my brother’s behalf.”

Herbert and Alec exchanged another glance, but this time Zephyr felt no hope in their silent communication. It was as if they were measuring him, assessing the true depth of his intentions. He could almost hear their thoughts: Was he simply trying to buy some fleeting moment of solace, or was this part of a deeper plan? He was quickly becoming weary of the way they silently communicated, their looks and gestures speaking volumes that were not intended for him.

“That could be arranged,” Herbert said after a long pause. “Provided you are properly guarded. For your own protection, of course.”

Zephyr’s lips curled into a tight, humorless smile. “Of course,” he replied, his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. It was clear they didn’t trust him fully. His position as a prisoner, or rather, a "guest," in their castle had not been forgotten. They assumed he might flee at the first opportunity, but they didn’t know him. They couldn’t know him. Zephyr had already made his commitment to the alliance. He would honor his word, even if it meant he would spend the rest of his days in this strange, suffocating land, tethered to a marriage he had not chosen.

“We’ll need to find suitable quarters for you as well,” Herbert continued, a faint note of uncertainty creeping into his voice as he looked over Zephyr. “More fitting to your station than your current accommodations, but out of sight of most of the court, at least for now.”

Zephyr arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a sardonic smile. “And in some interior corridor where there’s little chance of my wandering outside the castle walls, Iassume?” His tone was light, but his words cut through the air like a blade. He watched Herbert flinch, just slightly, the faintest tremor of discomfort passing over his otherwise stoic expression. It was the first crack in Herbert’s carefully maintained composure, and Zephyr found a small satisfaction in it.

Edric, who had been quietly observing the exchange, snorted with quiet amusement. “I see you won’t be cowed or intimidated, Prince Zephyr,” he said, the flicker of mirth in his eyes betraying his enjoyment of the moment. “And I’m glad of it.” He turned to Herbert with a sharp shake of his head, as if reprimanding him silently for the heavy-handed approach. “Enough, Herbert. I know it’s your job to be suspicious, but you chose the prince for this role for a reason.” His gaze turned back to Zephyr, and for a brief moment, the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable, a flicker of understanding that Zephyr hadn’t expected. “If we cannot trust his commitment to the alliance, there’s no sense continuing with your plan.”

Herbert sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation. He closed his eyes for a moment, as though praying for patience, before he nodded in reluctant agreement. “You’re right, of course.” He offered Zephyr a lopsided smile, one that was as close to an apology as Zephyr was likely to get. “It’s difficult to let my wariness slip, but I will try harder.”

Before Zephyr could respond, a sharp knock at the door cut through the tension. The air in the room shifted as Edric’s face hardened with a mix of anxiety and urgency. He leapt to his feet immediately, casting a fleeting, anguished glance at Alec, who also stood quickly. Edric threw open the door without hesitation, barely sparing a look at Zephyr or the others before he disappeared into the hallway.

The guard who had entered, the same red-haired woman Zephyr remembered from his earlier encounters, stood there,her expression tight with barely-contained distress. She didn’t even have the chance to speak before Edric was out the door, and Zephyr couldn’t help but wonder what new crisis had unfolded to send him racing so suddenly.

“So,” Herbert said, breaking the heavy silence with his cold, businesslike tone. “The king—”

The guard, Eileen, if Zephyr remembered correctly, shook her head, her lips pressed tight as she looked at them all. “Not yet,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “But he’s getting worse. He cannot last much longer. I thought Edric”—she paused, glancing at Alec—“and you, of course, would want to—”

“You thought correctly,” Alec interrupted, his voice sharp with quiet determination. He reached out and placed a large hand on her trembling shoulder, his presence offering a comfort that she desperately needed. His gaze met hers, and there was something heavy in it, something that Zephyr couldn’t fully decipher. But his next words were clear and unambiguous. “I’ll join him shortly. Herbert, keep working on that letter to the Eskarven court. We’ll have Zephyr look it over and sign it later.” His sharp hazel eyes turned to Zephyr then, a faint challenge flickering in their depths. “I’ll escort him to a suitable room and arrange for his visit to the temple.”

Eileen saluted with trembling hands, her salute stiff and formal despite the visible quiver in her body. She didn’t wait for any further words, turning quickly on her heel and clattering off after Edric, disappearing down the hallway in pursuit of her commanding officer.

Herbert, ever the professional, was already engrossed in his documents once again, scribbling something on a piece of parchment only to scratch it out moments later. Zephyr sighed, feeling the weight of the room press in on him.

He rose to his feet, the dizziness from earlier still threatening to take hold, but he forced it back, brushing off the sensation as best as he could. Alec, for his part, did not seem to notice, gesturing for Zephyr to follow him in the opposite direction of where Edric and Eileen had gone.

They walked in silence, the footsteps of both men the only sound that filled the long corridors of the castle. Alec didn’t speak until they stopped in front of a plain wooden door set in a secluded corner of the castle. Zephyr, unfamiliar with the layout, knew immediately that it was along an exterior wall. He smiled inwardly, knowing Edric had probably been responsible for ensuring his quarters were as distant as possible from prying eyes.

Alec pushed open the door and waved Zephyr inside. “We’ll move you again once the marriage is official,” he said, though there was little warmth in his voice. “But for now, I hope you find these quarters suitable.”

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