Page 12 of The Curse Between Us

Finally, Zephyr spoke, his voice breaking the silence. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his gaze still distant. “About your father.”

Edric let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He shrugged, the weight of the moment settling heavily on him. “It was peaceful, in the end,” he said, his voice thick with a mix of emotions. He cast a sidelong glance at Zephyr, catching the flicker of the lanterns over his sharp features—his strong jawline, the way his eyes seemed to hold the weight of an entire kingdom’s history.

“Your brother—” Edric began, but the words faltered on his lips. He hadn’t seen Prince Hadden in years, and he had no idea how the Eskarven king had passed. Yet somehow, he could sense that it hadn’t been as bloodless as his own father’s death.

Zephyr grimaced, pushing a hand through his hair in a way that seemed to betray his composure. “Yes,” he said simply, and Edric knew without further explanation that it had not been a peaceful death. Two kings, two deaths, two entirely different kingdoms—each with its own story, its own legacy.

“And so here we are,” Edric said softly, his voice carrying a mix of grief and tentative hope. His thoughts about his father’s passing were still tangled, interwoven with his own anxieties about the future. But he knew that Zephyr, too, stood on the cusp of something monumental. They had both lost so much, but in its place, there was the possibility of something new, something better.

Zephyr looked out over the land, his expression thoughtful, before he spoke again. “Here we are,” he echoed, his voice almost wistful. He took a few steps closer to the edge of the wall, peering out over the darkness that had swallowed the land below them. “It’s not at all what I expected.”

Edric, intrigued, raised an eyebrow. “In what ways?”

Zephyr shrugged, still focused on the view beyond the walls. “All I’d ever seen of your land before was the battlefield,” he said, his voice quieter now, as though the weight of their shared past was pulling him inward. “There was never any time to admire it, to see the beauty beneath the harshness of your sun.”

“It must be very different, though,” Edric said quietly, following Zephyr’s gaze out into the darkness. His mind wandered, trying to imagine the view from the castle of Eskarven. He’d heard stories of its vast, frozen landscapes, but he had never had the chance to see it for himself. He had never taken part in any of the rare ventures across the mountains that had occurred during his lifetime.

Zephyr’s voice broke through his thoughts, steady and deliberate. “It is,” he replied, his face remaining stoic, though the stiffness in his posture betrayed his inner conflict. He held himself with such an air of quiet resolve, as though he had spent years honing the art of bearing his burdens with grace. “You have never seen it, have you?”

Edric shook his head slowly. There was no need to speak more; the answer was clear. Zephyr closed his eyes, and the dark sweep of his lashes stood out starkly against his pale skin, framed by the soft glow of the lantern’s flickering light. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped, carrying with it a sense of wistful reverence. “There is so much less colour than here. Everything is white and gray and blue, shimmering and pure. The sun shines fiercely, but it deceives us, because the brightest days are often the coldest.” He took a deep breath, almost as though he were breathing in the very air of his homeland, and his words carried a raw beauty that made Edric’s chest tighten. “The waterfall that tumbles down from the mountains is eternally frozen, like a sculpture formed by the hands of Plenty itself.”

Edric felt a sharp pang in his chest, the longing in Zephyr’s voice cutting through him like a dagger. There was so much Edric didn’t know about the world outside his own, so many lands he had never set foot in. And yet, Zephyr’s words painted a vivid picture of a land both alien and beautiful. “It sounds beautiful,” Edric said softly, almost to himself. Then, with a determined breath, he added, “I promise you, we’ll get you home as quickly as we can. This whole scheme—” He sighed, shaking his head, “—I know how important it is. But your duty to your people is important too.”

Zephyr turned to look at him then, and for the first time, Edric saw the true weight of his gaze—heavy with the burdens of responsibility, yes, but also with a touch of gratitude. “Thank you,” Zephyr said quietly. His voice, though low, was filled with a depth that left Edric almost speechless.

And then, as though the tension in the air had finally broken, a slow smile tugged at the corners of Zephyr’s mouth. It was small at first, but it grew until the edges of his lips curledinto something brighter. “And who knows? Perhaps one day you will see my home. After all, we are to be married.”

The words hung between them, and Edric was surprised into a laugh. The tension that had built up in him over the last few days seemed to dissipate for a moment. He reached out as though to sling a friendly arm around Zephyr’s shoulders, but the gesture faltered as soon as his hand was halfway there. Something in Zephyr’s expression, in the way his shoulders stiffened, stopped him. The smile that had been growing on Zephyr’s face quickly faded, and Edric’s own mouth tightened, the sudden awkwardness palpable between them.

Despite the long list of reasons they ought to hate one another, despite the complicated web of politics and duty that held them together, Edric was quickly coming to enjoy Zephyr’s company. He was realizing that Zephyr was not just a symbol of a marriage contract, but a person—someone who could become an ally, even a friend. And yet, the physical affection that he might normally show to his closest companions—Marsh, Victor, or even Alec—could not be extended here. Not like this.

He drew his hand back quickly, offering Zephyr a rueful smile. “I should not have—”

“It’s fine.” Zephyr’s voice was slightly strained, but he smiled again, a small but genuine expression. The moment of discomfort passed, and Edric breathed easier for it. “It is getting late, though. I think we ought to retire.”

Under other circumstances, Edric might have shivered to hear those words coming from Zephyr’s low, rough voice, but something about the moment felt different. There was no sense in dwelling on things that could never be, no point in dreaming of touches that were forever out of reach. So Edric merely nodded, his mind already shifting to the next task at hand. With a slight bow, he said, “Please, allow me to escort you to your room.”

Zephyr raised an eyebrow, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Such courtesy,” he remarked, his tone teasing, but there was a hint of surprise in it as well.

Edric stopped abruptly and turned to face him, looking up into Zephyr’s face. The playful words lingered in the air, but Edric couldn’t quite tell whether Zephyr was joking or genuinely taken aback by the gesture. Perhaps it was both. He squared his shoulders and met Zephyr’s gaze with an unwavering sincerity. “It may not yet be common knowledge,” Edric said, his voice firm, “but you are my betrothed. As such, you are due every courtesy granted by your royal status, plus some.” He took a step closer, his voice growing even more resolute. “If anyone—and I do mean anyone—dares to treat you with anything less than the honour you deserve, they will have me to answer to.”

The weight of his words seemed to hang in the air between them. Edric’s heart beat in his chest, and with the steps placing Zephyr above him, he could see the slight movement of Zephyr’s throat as he swallowed roughly. His eyes widened in surprise, and a shuddering breath escaped his lips. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, finally, he spoke in a voice almost too quiet to hear. “Thank you.”

Edric felt his face flush at the sincerity in Zephyr’s voice, but he turned away quickly, embarrassed by his own passionate declaration. “You don’t need to thank me,” he replied softly, though he wasn’t sure if Zephyr had heard. “It’s just common decency.”

Zephyr said nothing more, but Edric could feel his gaze on his back as they walked down the remaining steps in silence. The halls of the castle were quiet now, only a few attendants still lingering to make their hasty bows as the two of them passed. The rest of the castle had long since fallen into slumber.

When they reached Zephyr’s chamber door, Edric paused. He made another bow, deeper this time, despite thenagging sense of awkwardness that lingered in him. He meant what he had said, and he was determined to lead by example, in this and in everything else.

“Goodnight, Your Highness,” Edric said, his voice formal, though there was an underlying warmth to it.

At the sound of the title, Zephyr’s face softened, and he shook his head. “Please, might you use my given name?” He hesitated for a moment, almost shy, before continuing. “Neither of us is above the other in rank, and we are both in a rather nebulous state when it comes to our titles. It would be…” He paused again, as if searching for the right words. “Appreciated, if we could lose some of the formality between us.”

Edric blinked, taken aback by the request. He had never thought to call a prince by his first name. But now that Zephyr had asked, it felt right. It felt as though something had shifted between them, something unspoken and yet undeniable.

“Very well, then,” Edric said with a smile. “Good night, Zephyr.”

Zephyr’s smile was small but genuine. “Good night, Edric,” he replied. He paused as though he were about to say something more, but then he shook his head, his lips curving into a small smile before he gently closed the door behind him.

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