As if her birth had brought nothing but heartache.
She wasn’t even sure Leighton had heard her. His expression had already turned haunted, as if he was somewhere far, far away, snagged by the dark brambles of his memories.
“Our mother disappeared when we were very young,” Leighton continued. “Efrem had nightmares every night for years about the bad things that might’ve befallen her. He would wake up in fits of terror, screaming so loudly that I and anyone in the castle who heard him could’ve sworn someone was torturing him.”
“That’s awful,” Kestrel said, thinking about her own mother and how maybe she had been fortunate not to remember her.
“It was awful,” agreed Leighton. “Not even the nursemaids could settle him. Only I could soothe his woes and calm him down long enough to get him back to sleep.” A shadow blanketed his princely features. “That’s what I was doing on the Cursed Night. I was tucking Efrem back into bed, assuring him that everything was alright. That he was safe. And then I saw it. The dark rise of magic that blasted into the sky.
“It looked like a blackened waterfall pouring upward into the clouds. It was beyond unnatural. Beyond foreboding. But I saw it, that power shot into the sky and then branched out like black bolts of lightning. I watched the dark tendrils of power slither their way across the lands like massive veins pumping evil into every corner of the realm. Into every kingdom. I felt the rumble of their impact as they met their targets.”
If it weren’t for the powerful sun overhead, Kestrel might’ve felt the chill threatening to seep into her bones. This was part of a story that she knew, but only bits and pieces of it. It was a time in Thom’s life that he didn’t like speaking about, the day Kestrel’s mother had died in his arms. It was also the day Kestrel had been born. The only thing Thom had ever said about it was that the sky had gone black and the curse was upon them, and it had been his sole purpose to get Kestrel somewhere safe.
But the Cursed Night, as Leighton called it, happened a longtime ago. What did it have to do with the princes and their secret excursion to Vallonde?
Micah had found a canteen and was finishing a refreshing drink of water when he pulled it from his lips. “Let it be remembered that it was my scaredy-cat brother, Efrem, who suffered from the nightmares. Not I.”
“I’ll remember.” Kestrel chuckled, relieved for a reprieve from the gloomy topic for now.
The fox was pawing at the canteen. Micah poured a mouthful’s worth into the cap and let it drink.
“Good,” he said. “As long as you know that I’m the brave one. So if you ever need any saving, you can count on me to be there.” Micah winked, but she didn’t think it was meant to be flirtatious, just the way he was.
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Leighton reached for the canteen and between gulps started again. “As I was saying?—”
“Oh excuse me for interrupting and trying to save our dear friend here from what everyone already knows about Grimtol’s very recent history,” Micah said, casting a knowing smile Kestrel’s way. But she lowered her head, tucked the braid behind her ear before she started fidgeting with the tip. His voice drew serious. “Surely, you know the rest of it. Right?”
Kestrel worried her lip, embarrassment threatening to claim her. Even though it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know any of it. It was Thom’s.
She tried mustering some pride and shook her head. “I don’t think I know anything.”
“About the curse? All the damage it did? Everyone it harmed?”
The fox sauntered back into Kestrel’s lap, as if it knew how much she needed the distraction and comfort its soft fur would provide.
“Like I said, I don’t think I know much about anything. The way Thom told it, the curse is what brought the monsters upon us, and it killed everyone in the realm. But Mutiny Bay over there proves that wasn’t true.”
“It wasn’t entirely false though, either,” Leighton countered, gently. “Some monsters did rise with the curse. And many people were slain in its wake—like the dragons and other beasts. The knights who had been trying to stop the Corrupt Queen, they were caught in her rageful inferno as well. They are who you see roaming the lands of Vallonde now, the charred, vengeful husks of the people they once were.”
Kestrel stopped petting the fox’s head. “Do you mean the cinders? They were knights?”
Leighton nodded.
Her thoughts went to the woman with snake-like skin. Was that what was going to happen to her? Or was that the cause of something else? Were all the monstrosities of the realm former people?
Leighton continued, “Perhaps the most horrific impact of the curse, however, was how it devastated the kingdoms, especially their leaders.”
Dread was pooling in her gut. She almost didn’t even want to ask, but she didn’t want to be left in the dark either. “How do you mean?”
“Every king, queen, and other ruler of Grimtol was turned into some cursed creature, unleashed upon their people. Our father was among them, the Great King Ulfaskr Erickson of Irongate.”
The muscles in Leighton’s jaw tightened. He glanced to his brother who was already watching him with mournful eyes. Ceremoniously, the two brothers clenched both hands into fists, punching their arms out in front of them, as straight as boards. They bent them inward then, bracketing one arm over the otherto create a square or perhaps a sort of shield. Kestrel imagined it was a cultural custom, something meant to symbolize the strength and fortitude of their Irongate kingdom.
“Storm and steel, never broken,” Leighton said.
“Never broken,” repeated Micah.
