Cursed (Cursed Magic Series Book One), Page 3

  Claire’s body jerked awake, her eyes wide, her body covered in sweat. Her dreams were filled with the events of the past couple days. The centaurs raiding through her town, her mother in the middle of it all. She had tried to get to her, to rescue her, but no matter how hard she ran she could never get any closer. She felt drained. Sleep seemed more exhausting than reality lately.

  The room was different from the last. She sat up in a four-posted bed with a light sheer curtain strung between the pillars. The large bed was miniscule in the new room, a deserted island lost in the stone sea of the floor. Flowers of all different shapes and colors blanketed the chamber, filling the air with their sweet aroma, and a cool breeze wafted in from the open window to the right that raised goose bumps on her arms.

  She looked down at the crimson silk gown that clung to her body. The straps were thin and the top plunged down to her breasts. What was with all these revealing nightgowns? And who kept changing her? She really hoped it wasn’t that Aeron fellow. She shuddered at the thought.

  She got up out of bed and stretched. The nightgown slithered around her legs as she made her way to the window.

  Flower-shaped cutouts at the top of the frame splashed hundreds of tiny shapes across her face as she approached. A different view of the plaza greeted her, but the scene looked the same as before: soft golden light, pretty fountain, elves lounging around in colorful robes. Beautiful but lifeless, it certainly lacked the energy that the plaza in Stockton had during midday.

  She turned from the window, trying to ignore that last thought, and noticed a pair of glass doors across the room. She walked over, opened the doors, and stepped out onto a small balcony.

  Trees spread out as far as the eye could see in all directions, their tops reaching high to the heavens. The building hung over a steep drop on top of a cliff, solid ground too far down below.

  Quickly, she spun back around, her head reeling. She had never been afraid of heights before, but then again she’d never been this high up either. Claire closed the doors behind her and drew the curtains closed. She’d deal with the view later.

  Across from the bed was a curved archway that led to a little seating area. Paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, lit by a great metal chandelier above. Claire tip-toed to the wooden doors that led out of the room and laid her ear against the smooth surface, where it was met with silence. She tried the handle next, turning it slowly, but it was locked.

  Claire sighed, walked back to the bed, and plopped down across the middle. She held her arm up before her and started to trace the vine-like mark with a finger, the skin still a little pink from the burning ointment.

  What was going on around here? It was as if she were a prisoner— though a pampered one— but a prisoner nonetheless. She hoped this wasn’t how they treated all their guests. However, it was better than a dungeon. She was anxious to return to her town and start looking for her mother, her friends, or anyone else she knew. If they were still alive. She banished the thought from her mind. Must not think like that.

  A knock at the door startled her, but before she could answer a female elf entered. Her long copper hair was twisted in a braid down her back and a plain white gown draped on her tall, slender frame. She carried a tray of food and set it on a table in the far corner.

  Claire remained still. Should she say something? The elf didn’t exactly look like the sociable type. So, unsure what to do, she sat in the bed and quietly watched the elf. The servant bowed to her, never once meeting her eyes or speaking a word, then was gone.

  How very odd. It was almost as if she was of afraid of her.

  Claire stumbled off the bed and crossed the room to examine the food. Steam rose up from the dish of noodles and sauce, filling her nose with a sweet smell. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate. She grabbed the fork and began to eat at a voracious pace, barely tasting the food as she stuffed it into her mouth, washing it down with the sweet red wine that filled an elegant silver flute.

  The days passed. The servants came and went without speaking a word, ignoring her persistent questions. Her meals arrived three times a day. How many days has it been since she arrived here? Two? Three? Six? They all seemed to melt together with each hour passed.

  She couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to get out. Her sanity wouldn’t last much longer. There were only so many ways she could rearrange the flower vases scattered around the room.

  She began to memorize when her meals would come, studied the halls when they took her to the baths. A single elf stood guard at her door at all times. She could have climbed over the balcony, but her stomach flipped at the thought. She wasn’t that desperate yet. Her best bet at escape would be when she was escorted to the baths. The halls were winding, but she would be out of the room and past the guard. The servants should be easy to slip away from, they hardly ever looked at her anyway.

  The same two female elves arrived as always, their beautiful faces solemn, always quiet, always avoiding her gaze. She was beginning to feel like some sort of freak, the way everyone kept shunning her.

  Silently, she followed behind, slowing her pace to look down the adjacent hallways. Which one? Which hallway was it? It seemed like a maze, but she only had one chance. If she were caught they would no doubt increase security or move her to a different room altogether. And that one may not be so pleasant. She had to make a break for it now before she went mad.

  She glanced down a hallway to her left. Sunlight bounced off the floor at the end where it turned at a corner. That one! It was as good as guess as any. Sunlight meant the outside and possibly a door.

  With her breath held, she ducked into the hall and ran on bare feet toward the light, her robe fluttering out behind her. She turned the corner and, to her luck, burst through a pair of doors out onto a wide patio.

  Huge trees loomed up before her. She’d come out on the forest side. Another stroke of luck, perhaps. She rushed to the edge of the patio overlooking the cliff below. She wasn’t getting down that way. She turned around, her eyes following the stairs that wound along the cliff side in both directions. Left led up, back toward the palace it seemed; the right side led down. Right it was then.

  She ran toward the stairs, her feet moving hastily down the steps; her hand lifted the hem of her robe up to prevent tripping while the other gripped the stone railing. The stairs circled around the building as they climbed lower along the cliff edge. She reached another patio area with a pair of doors to the left. The rest of the stairs were straight across. She leaped over the last few steps and started to sprint to the other side.

  But when she was halfway across, her body froze instantly, her pulse leaping up to her throat.

  The silver-haired elf from the throne room leaned back against the wall. His eyes were wide with surprise. They stood looking at each other for a few moments, neither of them moving.

  Claire’s hopes dropped. She was caught.

  Shouts rang out in the distance and she glanced back toward the stairs.

  No, she couldn’t give up yet. The fact that he made no move to stop her yet meant that she might have a chance, might be able to convince him to let her leave. It was worth a shot, what other chance did she have? A fearless, desperate wave washed over her, filling her veins with fire. She turned back to the silver-haired elf and rushed up to him. Her hands grabbed onto his shirt as she looked up at him, her eyes pleading.

  “Please, just let me go!” She kept her voice low. “I just want to go home and find my mother!”

  His cold eyes stared back at her, unmoved. “So you’re the cause of all this commotion.”

  She gaped up at him as the said commotion drew nearer. Perhaps she had been wrong. He didn’t seem to care what happened to her.

  “Farron, that is no way to treat a lady in need.”

  She knew that voice. Claire spun around to face Aeron as he stepped through the pair of doors with a smile across his lips. Her hopes sank even further. There was no chanc
e of escape now.

  “I just want to go home!” she cried. “I’m tired of sitting in that room!”

  “I am afraid that is not possible, mon lainí,” Aeron said. His face grew solemn.

  “It may be.”

  Claire turned to look at Farron, her hopes lifting a bit. He stared at Aeron with an insolent spark in his eyes.

  Aeron’s face twitched. “It is not part of the plan.”

  “What plan?” she asked, but was ignored.

  “A little detour couldn’t hurt, it is on the way.”

  “His Majesty will not allow it.” Aeron frowned.

  “Who said he has to know?”

  She could feel the tension rise sharply between the two.

  “Will you answer my question?” Claire yelled. The tension eased a bit as their focus switched to her.

  “My lady,” Aeron said. “His Majesty has ordered for us to go on a mission. An important one that does not have time for any detours.” He gave Farron a pointed look.

  “A mission?” she asked. “With me?” Claire looked between the elves. They stood silent, not offering the answers she wanted. She turned to Aeron. “What kind of mission?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “Why not?” Anger began to well up inside of her. “Well if you won’t tell me, I won’t go.” She crossed her arms.

  “I am afraid you do not have much of a choice, my lady.”

  The terrace grew quiet. Claire looked at Aeron, his face was serious, his eyes cold. She was tired of this, tired of being a captive. They wanted her for a reason. Could it be the mark? She looked down at her right hand. He was right, however: she was currently in their possession and she would have to play by their rules if she ever wanted to see her mother again.

  “Fine,” she said and a defiant look took over her face, her hands rested on her hips. “I’ll go on your mission. No questions asked— under one condition.”

  “And what would that be, my lady?” Aeron’s eyebrows rose.

  “You help me look for my mother,” she said, her voice losing a little bit of its edge. “I’ll do whatever you want if you’ll help me.”

  Aeron took a deep breath and let it out, his gaze shifting to the ground.

  “You need me for something,” she said. “I’ll help you if you help me.”

  “Done,” Farron declared behind her.

  She turned and looked up at the tall elf.

  His gaze met hers for a brief moment before he looked back at Aeron. “His majesty never needs to find out.”

  “Fine, but that is it,” Aeron replied sharply. “Be ready to leave in the morning.” He turned and went back through the doors, flinging them open wide.

  The shouts from before slowly died, leaving the palace quiet and peaceful once again. Claire turned to Farron.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “No need.” His eyes studied her. “Just keep up your end of the bargain. Besides,” a smirk curled the edges of his mouth, “there’s no way out on this side of the castle.” He strolled away and disappeared down the steps.

  She stared after him in disbelief, not knowing what to say to that. The two servants from before rushed through the doors, anger on their faces. Claire felt uncomfortable as the subject of their ire, although it was a relief to see some sort of emotion from them finally.