Page 38 of Heir to a Curse

His talismans worked. Occasionally I wandered the extensive grounds of the palace trailing behind him, watching him reset talismans of protection. Though they couldn’t have been that powerful for he renewed them often. Oddly, as the time passed and he continued to use even this small bit of magic, his beautiful hair began to streak with white. Not age, as it didn’t crease his face, only leeched tone from his hair. Time was not on his side. And often I prayed for an end to the war so we could return to the city and the safety of the emperor’s palace.

But the battle was on the horizon. Smoke rose in the distance. The stench of death wafted across the plains. Too close. Our people were dying. I had to go and keep the battle from arriving at the doorstep of the Mandate.

The night before, he’d pressed his lips to mine and begged me to stay. Taking a piece from his hair-clip and putting it in my hands. His hair fell loose around his face, giving his beauty an ethereal glow. I wanted him more in that moment than life itself, but refused to give in. It would be a dishonor to what I was and who he was. Though I admitted to sitting in the darkness with him and letting his hair run through my fingers. An intimacy I never thought I had a right to. One that would have had me put to death if anyone ever found out.

Word had come several times from the generals, asking for me to leave the Mandate and join them on the battlefield. They were losing the battle, and so was I, only my battle was being fought with myself over my heart, instead of on blood-soaked plains.

It was then I knew I had to leave. Staying would only lead us down this path. The only other chance for his family was if the Mandate rose up to display his power.

“You could end it all,” I told him. “Save your family. Put an end to the war.”

He pulled away, looking sad and hurt. “I don’t have that kind of power.”

“You’re the Mandate,” I reminded him.

He let out a long breath, air a white mist from his lips as he crawled into the nest of blankets, all made from silks he’d woven. “Titles don’t fight battles,” he whispered as he pulled the blanket over his head, rolling away from me.

I squeezed the little hairpiece in my fist, feeling like I was doing everything wrong, but not certain what other options there might be. Our people were dying. And I admitted to being angry with him. Not understanding how he didn’t use his power to save his family and the people of our province. In the end, I felt like I’d spent hours staring at him, waiting until he fell asleep before setting the small piece beside his head and getting up to leave. If he would not fight, I would. I could protect him and the family, bring order back to it all, make his music warm and happy again.

Only that hadn’t happened. I remember blinking and finding myself covered in blood in the middle of a battle, raging and screaming, fighting like my life depended on it, and it had.

The battle ended with widespread slaughter on both sides. The family I represented had fallen. Many of my fellow generals already put to death, or turned to the other side. They demanded I return to the Mandate and bring him to the new Emperor.

The trip back to that winter-soaked palace had been like walking with a sword sliced through my gut for days. I’d walked bound, bleeding, dying slowly of thirst and blood poisoning. Had comforted myself briefly with thoughts that I’d see him one last time. Thinking perhaps my death would inspire him to finally unleash that power everyone claimed he had.

Only when we arrived, myself and a legion of troops now belonging to the other side, the palace was empty. Nothing left, not even a single book remained to indicate the Mandate had ever been there.

I had dropped to my knees before that empty room, peering out at the garden long dead from neglect, and known not only had I betrayed the Mandate in that moment, but myself. The Mandate had not seen fit to grant them true leadership. I was one of the few to know the truth. Their claim was moot. If the country knew, there would be widespread rebellion.

It had been fitting that they’d killed me right after, leaving me bleeding on the steps of the place he’d found the most sadness. Where I had done nothing other than add to his pain. They silenced what I knew, the end of the true Mandate, and my failure.

* * *

Iwoke with tears in my eyes. Heart feeling like it had been ripped out, sliced up and laid on the table instead of back in my chest. “Fuck,” I growled into the darkness of the cabin. A white mist rose from my breath for a few seconds, visible in the pale light peeking from the windows. The icy chill of the air made me wonder if I was sleeping still. But there was no way, not with the heavy weight of emotion on my chest sitting like an anvil.

I sucked in air, counting and breathing, working through the sensations slowly. It was a bit like peeling back fingers from someone’s grip. On the bedside table sat the little dragon figure, absent of all the gems and color. I reached for it, rolling it in my grasp, closing my eyes to remember the feeling of his hair.

A thousand small memories arose with it. Images from a past life perhaps. Filled with emotion, and faded thoughts, unlike a movie, but all burned into my memory. Like long conversations on philosophy, war strategy, the benefits of certain plants, or even the cadence of a particular instrument. Days of memorizing his voice, mannerisms, or even the way his robes hugged his lean form all echoed inside my head. My heart filled to bursting despite my constant denials. Memories tumbling through in a tide of rolling thought, bringing with it the monster of all migraines.

It had been at least a decade since I’d experienced one this bad. Even the small light from my phone as I sent a text letting everyone know I was down and out for the moment, killed my eyes.

I didn’t think I’d fall back to sleep. Not with the throbbing pain in my temple. Though I did spend a lot of time lying there, contemplating if I had the virus, and how many people I might have infected. For a while I felt a cool hand on my forehead and stroking my cheek. I wondered briefly if I’d find the strength to protest, keep them away for their own safety, but the touch soothed enough in me to send me into a dreamless state in which the pain only reached the very edges of my awareness.