Page 11 of The Curse Between Us

Dressed in his finest garments, Edric stood just inside the castle gates, watching the horizon as the sun began to sink into the west, casting long shadows over the stone courtyard. He shifted from one foot to the other, glancing up at the sentries posted on the walls, his anticipation growing with each passing second. He waited for the signal, the shout that would announce the arrival of the delegation. But there was no movement yet. No sign that they were near. His posture stiffened as the minutes stretched on, and he crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to hide his restlessness.

“You’re as impatient as a child waiting for dessert.” Zephyr’s voice was low, his words tinted with amusement. Edric turned to find him standing beside him, looking every bit the part of a prince, his tall frame proud despite the slenderness of his form, a product of the illness that still lingered too closely. His clothing, too, had been quickly tailored to fit his changed body, the fabrics draping him in a way that was both regal and undeniably elegant. Yet, beneath the surface, there was still an air of fragility.

Edric couldn’t help but smile at the comment, though it did little to alleviate his inner tension. “How are you not?” he murmured, not bothering to hide the faint exasperation in his voice.

Zephyr gave him a sidelong look, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Perhaps I’m just better at hiding it.”

Edric chuckled softly, though his gaze quickly flickered back to the sentries. Zephyr’s ability to remain composed, despite everything, was one of the things Edric admired most about him. But Edric could still feel the tremor of nerves inside him. The arrival of the Eskarven delegation was not just a formality—it was a monumental moment, one that could either solidify their newly-formed alliance or shatter it before it even truly began. The weight of that possibility pressed down on him like a stone in his chest.

Beside him, Alec had remained quiet but present, his usual position at Edric’s side, though today he was dressed not in his usual general’s attire but in royal garb that set him apart as much as it marked him as family. His hair, normally pulled tightly back, hung loose at his shoulders, the softer look oddly unfamiliar. When Edric caught his eye, he saw the same apprehension reflected in Alec’s gaze. They both knew the risks they were taking by welcoming this delegation. This meeting could either bring them closer to their shared goal or ignite a conflict that neither side was ready for. Alec didn’t say anything, but Edric could feel his brother’s unease as strongly as his own.

And then, there was a shout from the walls.

Edric’s heart leapt, and his eyes snapped toward the noise, every muscle in his body coiling with anticipation. He felt Zephyr stiffen beside him, as if the sound itself had set something inside him on edge. In that moment, Edric reached down between them, instinctively squeezing his gloved hand, offering a small gesture of reassurance. Zephyr met his touch with a small, strained smile, but there was no time for words. The gates groaned as they swung open, revealing the figures of the Eskarven delegation as they rode into view.

The sight was impressive. The riders were tall and proud in their saddles, their horses steady and confident in their stride as they passed through the gates. The sunlight cast a golden hue over the party, and Edric took a deep breath, stepping forward as his role required. His golden crown felt heavier than ever, its weight a reminder of the responsibility he carried.

“I am King Edric of Rafria,” he announced, his voice carrying with calm authority. “You are most welcome among us.”

The first woman to dismount did so with grace, her robe a pure white that gleamed in the setting sun. Her eyes—sharp, calculating—met Edric’s, and she gave him a cool, assessing look before speaking. “Greetings, King Edric. I am Clara, High Priestess of Eskarven, and I thank you for your welcome.”

Her gaze flicked to Zephyr, who had remained standing quietly at Edric’s side. There was a slight pause before Clara gave him a low, respectful bow. “Greetings, Your Highness. It is good to see you.”

Zephyr responded in kind, bowing in return, his movements slow and deliberate. As he did, Edric felt his hand slip from his grip, the weight of his absence tangible. Zephyr’s strength, though present, was clearly a delicate thing. Edric watched him carefully, his instincts bristling with the knowledge that despite Elsie’s tonic, each movement required more effort than it should. “I am delighted to see you as well, my lady,” Zephyr said, his voice steady but there was a faint edge to it that Edric knew well.

Edric took a breath, his mind already calculating the next steps. “Please,” he said, sweeping an arm toward the castle. “Let us retire inside so that you might refresh yourselves after your journey.”

As they walked toward the castle, Edric fell in step with a serene young woman, who had stayed somewhat apart from the rest of the group. She seemed to be observing everything with quiet contemplation. “I am Lady Hannah,” she introduced herself softly. “Cousin to Zephyr.”

Edric gave her a courteous bow. “It is an honour to meet you, my lady,” he said, trying his best to keep the tone of his voice warm despite the weight of the situation. “And a pleasure to meet a member of my husband’s family. He has spoken often of you.”

A small, soft smile appeared on Hannah’s face, and for the first time since their arrival, her expression softened. “It is good to see that you have had such conversations.” However, her eyes flickered briefly toward Zephyr, her smile fading. “But my cousin—he does not look well.”

Edric’s stomach churned at her words. Of course, it would be a shock to the Eskarvens. After only a month’s absence, Zephyr had grown noticeably thinner, his once-vibrant complexion now pale and drawn. It would be hard for anyone to see him this way and not worry. Edric’s smile remained, but it was strained. “I assure you, he is in good spirits and being treated with every respect and courtesy,” he said, keeping his voice low, careful not to alarm anyone. He met her skeptical gaze, hoping she could see the truth in his eyes. “We will speak of it later, but privately.”

Hannah’s expression shifted, her curiosity piqued more than her concern. She nodded, though her face remained guarded. “Of course.” She looked back at Zephyr, the concern still visible in her gaze, but the subject was clearly closed for now. They fell into a more pleasant conversation about the journey—about the treacherous mountain pass, the difficulty of crossing it, and the unexpected warmth they had encountered once they arrived in Rafria.

When they reached the inner chambers, the formalities eased as the group gathered around a smaller table, refreshments waiting for them. “Please, be seated,” Edric instructed, his voice calm and composed. “Relax. We will have a formal feast in a few hours’ time, but I thought it best we meet in smaller numbers first.”

He glanced at the two members of the delegation he had not yet met. “Introductions are in order, I believe,” he said, his tone polite, though his mind was already turning to the pressing matters at hand.

Zephyr nodded and gestured to the other two members of the delegation who had seated themselves at the far end of the table. “You have met Clara and Hannah. Joining them are Max and Alicia.”

Edric gave both a warm nod, offering his greeting. “Welcome to Rafria.”

Max and Alicia both smiled back at him, their faces bright and eager. “And you have already met King Edric,” Zephyr continued. “We are also joined by Prince Alec and Chief Strategist Herbert.”

Polite greetings passed between them all, the tension in the room palpable but being handled with the utmost diplomacy. Once the formalities were completed, Edric leaned his forearms on the table, his gaze settling on his guests. The weight of what they were about to discuss, the delicate nature of their alliance, loomed over the room like a storm on the horizon.

“I never thought we would see this day,” Edric said frankly, his voice tinged with disbelief, but also with a sense of gratitude. “I am truly honoured by your presence here, and by the trust you have shown in making this journey.”

Clara’s lips twitched slightly, though the smile never fully reached her eyes. She regarded him with a coolness that made Edric’s stomach tighten. “A trust I am not sure has been earned,” she said slowly. Her eyes flicked to Zephyr before returning to Edric. “We came here under the banner of peace, in honour of the new alliance between our kingdoms, and yet we find our prince looking more a prisoner than a husband, despite his fine clothes.”

Edric opened his mouth to protest, to suggest that the conversation could wait until later, but Zephyr, to his surprise, cut him off. “I have been ill,” he said simply. He looked at Edric, and for a moment, there was a quiet apology in his gaze. “I had hoped we might leave this discussion until later, but I should have known your first concern would be for my health.”

“Zephyr,” Edric said under his breath, a soft warning in his tone, but there was no real heat behind it.

“They deserve to know,” Zephyr said firmly, though his eyes avoided Edric’s. “I should have told them sooner.”

“What do they deserve to know?” Clara asked, her voice sharp.

Zephyr took a deep breath before continuing, his voice careful. “King Edric and I believe that there is a... fundamental incompatibility between myself and the environment here in Rafria, and that this is what has caused my prolonged illness.”

Much to Edric’s relief, Zephyr refrained from mentioning the matter of touch. That, Edric thought, was something more personal, more intimate—a subject he wasn’t yet prepared to address in front of the Eskarvens. The delicate matter of their physical relationship, of the invisible boundary between them caused by the illness, was something Edric hoped could remain unspoken for now. He was grateful that Zephyr had respected that, letting the discussion focus on the illness itself rather than the deeper, more complicated emotions it stirred.

However, Clara’s sharp gaze narrowed as she processed the words Zephyr had shared. “A fundamental incompatibility,” she repeated, her tone cool and thoughtful. “Then—are we not also at risk, being here?”

The question hit Edric harder than he expected. He had been so focused on Zephyr’s well-being that he hadn’t considered the potential danger to the delegation. Would they, too, be vulnerable? The tension in the room escalated as he turned to Zephyr for an answer, hoping his knowledge and experience could diffuse the mounting concern.

Zephyr, ever composed, responded swiftly, much to Edric’s relief. “I do not believe so,” he said, his voice steady and calm. “Or at least not immediately. It took over a week for the sickness to truly affect me, and I believe it should do the same with you. As your visit is only intended to last three days, I do not believe you are in any danger.”

Edric felt a small weight lift from his chest at Zephyr’s reassurances. Still, the undercurrent of unease remained, as Clara’s gaze did not soften. Her skepticism lingered in the air, and the silence that followed her question was heavy with the weight of potential doubt.

Then, without warning, Max, who had remained quiet until now, crossed his arms over his chest. His face, once open and pleasant, was now darkened with suspicion. “How could you allow this to happen?” he demanded. His voice was sharp, his features tight with anger. “Is this part of some attempt to weaken us? To humiliate us?” He turned to Herbert, his mistrust radiating through every line of his body. “Was this your idea, Chief Strategist?” he spat, the title dripping with disdain.

Edric’s body stiffened at the accusation. He had anticipated tension, yes, but not this level of hostility. He knew Max’s loyalty to his people was unwavering, but to suggest such a thing—it was unthinkable. Edric was about to speak when he felt Zephyr’s presence shift beside him. He had braced himself for a confrontation, but it was in these moments that he often forgot how much Zephyr’s presence had come to mean to him. Zephyr, despite the odds, stood resolute.

“Please.” Edric held up a hand, hoping to calm the brewing storm. “We had no idea this would happen. How could we know?” He turned his gaze to the Eskarvens, hoping to convey his sincerity, and then looked at Alec and Herbert, whose expressions were equally disbelieving. “We have never before been in this position,” he continued. “We had no way of predicting this, no means of understanding what could happen.”

Hannah, who had been quietly observing the exchange, nodded slowly. Her gaze remained fixed on Zephyr’s face, studying him with a quiet intensity. “You do not look well, cousin,” she said bluntly, her words carrying a certain sharpness. “I ask you now, with all those assembled here as witnesses: Do you believe your suffering has been deliberate, or in any way influenced by the Rafrians?”

Edric held his breath, his eyes flicking nervously between Zephyr and the others. He knew this was a question Zephyr had to answer himself, and he prayed the response would calm the rising tensions. Zephyr took a moment, his eyes thoughtful, before he finally spoke.

“No,” Zephyr said, his voice steady, but Edric could hear the weight in his words. “I have been treated with care and consideration.” He turned to meet Edric’s gaze, and there was a brief flicker of something softer in his eyes—something that made Edric’s heart ache with the quiet sincerity. “This illness was not borne of any devious plan.”

Edric exhaled slowly, the tension draining from his shoulders as Zephyr spoke the words he so desperately needed to hear. He glanced around at the others, seeing the subtle shift in their expressions as they processed what had been said. Clara, in particular, seemed to relax, her posture shifting slightly. But Max, still clearly unconvinced, did not let go of his suspicion.

“Why did you not tell me this?” Alec’s voice rang out, sharp and incredulous. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at Edric as if he couldn’t believe the situation they were in. “How long has this been going on?”

Edric winced, feeling the weight of Alec’s frustration, but there was no answer that would make this situation any easier. It was too late to turn back, too late to undo the secrecy they had kept. “We had no wish to cast doubts on the alliance,” Edric explained quietly. “New and fragile as it is.”

Slowly, Clara nodded, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed the information. “A wise move,” she murmured. Her voice held a detached calm that made Edric feel uncomfortable, as though she were already considering the political implications. “It might be interpreted as a sign of disfavour, forces beyond our control signalling their displeasure.”

A chill passed over Edric at the coldness in Clara’s voice. As High Priestess of Eskarven, she was trained to read and interpret omens, to find meaning in events that others might consider mere coincidences. The illness, the situation—it could all be framed in a way that would serve Eskarven’s interests. But Edric had no intention of letting that happen.

“But you have resisted it,” Clara continued, her attention shifting back to Zephyr. She seemed to consider him once more, her gaze lingering with a mixture of curiosity and calculating thought. “We will speak more of this, my prince.”

Zephyr inclined his head gravely, his posture formal despite his frailty. “Yes, my lady.”

The conversation was growing heavier, more complex. The delicate balance between diplomacy and truth was beginning to unravel, and Edric could sense that he needed to steer things in a different direction. Thankfully, it was Herbert who spoke up, cutting through the tension with a sharp but measured tone.

“If I may?” Herbert’s voice was firm, commanding attention. All heads turned in his direction, and he gave a small nod. “I suggest we continue with the proceedings as planned. The feast tonight, the talks tomorrow, and the tournament the day after. If Prince Zephyr is correct”—he shrugged lightly, as if to acknowledge the uncertainty of the situation—“you will not suffer any ill effects during this time, and you may return to your own kingdom without this knowledge spreading.”

Edric caught his breath, grateful for Herbert’s pragmatic approach. The suggestion was sound, a way to maintain the delicate peace while keeping the political game moving forward. But Alicia, who had been quiet until now, spoke up, her voice hesitant but insistent.

“But what of our prince?” Alicia asked, her expression one of genuine concern. She looked somewhat shocked at herself for speaking out, her voice faltering for a moment in the presence of so many important figures, but she pressed forward with a quiet determination. “He cannot remain here in this condition.”

The question was one that Edric had dreaded asking himself from the moment they first considered the possibility of Zephyr’s illness being caused by the environment. Elsie’s tonic provided temporary relief, but it was no cure. Edric hated to see his husband’s vitality draining away, hated the helplessness he felt in the face of it all.

“He will return with you, of course.” Alec spoke up, his tone matter-of-fact, as if the answer should have been obvious. He seemed frustrated, his gaze flicking to Edric with a note of disbelief that the question was even being raised. “We always intended for him to return home, to be crowned in his own hall and take over from his regent. It’s perhaps slightly earlier than anticipated, but with the delegation already here and his health in the balance, it only makes sense.”

At the far end of the table, the Eskarvens nodded in agreement, and Edric opened his mouth to protest. But the words died on his tongue.

He didn’t want Zephyr to leave. It was as simple—and as selfish—as that. But how could he say so when Zephyr’s health was in jeopardy? How could his own feelings matter in comparison to Zephyr’s well-being?

He looked over at Zephyr, his heart heavy with the unspoken weight of the decision. There was no visible emotion on Zephyr’s face, just a look of quiet thoughtfulness. Edric’s voice was tentative when he spoke. “Zephyr?”

Zephyr met his gaze, his eyes soft but filled with a quiet resolve. He didn’t answer immediately, and the silence between them felt like an eternity. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. “Yes,” he said, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to Edric’s. “Yes, I believe that would be for the best.”

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