Page 54 of The Curse of a Kingdom
“The king hasn’t been able to have any more children after you?” Nava asked, as if knowing to change the subject.
It had been so long since he’d felt he could trust someone. The history of his family came with a heavy load. He hadn't known them personally before coming here to search for answers, but for some strange reason, he cared. “No one but me. After my mother was gone, he took on multiple women to get an heir.”
Nava’s lips slacked. “I have not read in any books that the Copper Kingdom’s king has multiple wives. Though clearly, I have not read enough. How does it work? I didn’t know there was a queen in the castle.”
“There is no queen. He never remarried.” Orion rubbed the back of his neck, the uncertainty of his feeling settled somewhat.
“It explains why he went through the trouble to kidnap you in the middle of the night, all the way from the Grey Island,” she grumbled, and waves of images crashed into him.
He was chasing her across a vast ocean. Salt waves crashed against the large ship, the wood groaning alongside the sound of seagulls above. He stood at the end, gripping the rails. The captain had assured him there was an island less than an hour away. The Grey Island, where magic wielders came to run away from the crowns.
A town that held a spell that canceled magic. Willowbrook.
. . .
“Willowbrook,” he breathed, and Nava’s eyes snapped to him. His skin turned cold and clammy as the memory pushed to come through the haze of his thoughts.
“Yes.” Her voice was hesitant, and her lips shook as she studied him closely.
“How long has it been? How many years did I lose?” His voice was barely audible from the noise of the forest.
“Eleven.”
The anxious bubbling sensation in his gut didn’t allow him to stay in this forsaken place a moment longer. He strutted toward the castle. His breathing was hard as he processed all he’d been told, everything that had happened today. “When did we meet?”
“The first or the second time?” she asked, and he turned to her, raising a brow. She looked so incredibly beautiful under the light of the setting sun with soot marking her cheeks. “We met once eleven years ago and then again last year.”
“Why the time gap?” He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. Her back tensed and her eyes shifted away, teeth catching her bottom lip. “Are you going to tell me that’s too much for me to hear?”
“It will be too much,” she admitted, her rigid tone matching her straight back. For the first time since she had dropped back into his life, true fear took over her expression. He found he hated that look and needed to make it go away.
The air was still muggy, and his skin was rough with the ash that stuck to his sweat.
“Why did the king not remarry?”
Orion stared at Nava, wanting to find answers in the softness of her face, but maybe he wasn’t ready for all the truth, not after all he had learned today. “The tree didn’t bloom.”
“What does that even mean, the queen’s tree?”
“Haven’t you read about it? It’s pretty much shoved down everyone's throats in history.” He slowed his strut and turned to her.
“I have not. I was homeschooled, and history wasn’t my cup of tea. There are a lot of nuances of all four kingdoms—I don’t keep track of every detail.” Her tone took a defensive quality to it, and the way her nose wrinkled was adorable. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“The tree signals when the rightful queen has arrived. It can be an heir being born if it’s a girl. But it also can be a betrothed.”
“So, the tree bloomed with your mother and then died down when she passed?”
“That’s how my father learned she had died.” Orion’s jaw tightened, and he resumed his walk. “And then he found her back where we just were, in an exact replica of the beloved tree of our people.”
“I’m sorry, Arkimedes,” Nava said between breaths as she struggled to catch up to him. At this point, he wasn’t sure he would bother to correct her using his old name, not when it clearly held some sort of history with her.
“I’m fine. I never even met her.” The hollowness in his voice told him that was a lie even though he didn't believe any longer. He cared very much as to why she had suffered such a horrible death. He cared too much.
The castle’s magnificent sight came into view between the leaves of the trees as the sun set behind it. Orange and golden hues painted the tops of the buildings and trees, like a pastel painting.
“So—do you believe me?” she asked.
“That my dreams of you weren’t dreams but memories being repressed? That I’m cursed?”
