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A few nights later, as had become my nightly ritual, since Bracca had come so perilously close to killing me in my own throne room, I went out for a walk and some fresh air. I followed my usual path and was now standing by the gate, looking down at the scene below.

How had it all gone wrong so quickly, so irrevocably? I had meant to speak to Bracca privately and try to convey to him that the curse was already working against us both. That we had no choice but to separate, because I could feel it ripping us apart. We had to somehow find a way to stay away from each other.

Then Hendris had inexplicably butted his way in and Larek was absolutely no help either. Maybe the reaction and interference of others was somehow part of the curse. It certainly seemed likely.

The siege had begun yesterday, with Bracca and his army showing up and camping out just beyond the reach of our soldier’s weapons. From the size of the encampment, their numbers had increased in only the last day or so. They must have managed to send for even more soldiers, and they had begun to stream into their camp. We still didn’t know what their plan was, though they certainly had one by now. Bracca and his father weren’t the kind to leave anything to chance.

Hendris said they wanted to lay siege to our city and force us to surrender.

Daeneid had an ample underground water supply, along with large stockpiles of food. The food wouldn’t run out for over a year, if then. But eventually…

There could be an attack, but they were obviously still working out the logistics. There were clear, unwritten rules once a siege had begun, and there were really only three possible outcomes—a successful assault by the attackers, a negotiated surrender by the defenders, or an unlikely win by the defenders when the other side inevitably attacked their weakened forces.

A successful assault by either side without negotiation could result in massacre, execution, and plunder. That was the last thing I wanted for the Dokkalfar people, or for the Fairies, for that matter.

In case of a negotiated surrender, only the nobles could expect reasonable treatment and to leave with perhaps some of their possessions. The poorer people often lost their rights, possessions, homes and sometimes, their freedom.

In this case I thought that Larek had long wanted to take over the Dark Elf kingdom and incorporate it into his own. He wanted to be High King, but he would need to enslave the Dokkalfar people to work in their own mines.

Bracca was like Larek in that they were both far too stubborn to simply give up and go home, so I believed that the second of these choices was the one most likely. They wouldn’t attack, but rather lay siege until we asked for a negotiated surrender. I suspected that King Larek had been working toward that goal for some time. He had arranged my kidnapping and Bracca’s marriage to me to be able to control me—to get me to restore the throne and then after that, I was more or less disposable except for maintaining the throne with my blood every few years. The horrible curse my grandfather had put on the blood-stone had worked to Larek’s advantage in that way. Bracca didn’t feel love for me, but he did feel possessive of me. He would keep me around under lock and key to maintain the throne and ensure my faithfulness. And because he was a stubborn ass who would never give away anything that he thought belonged to him.

And I had gone and stupidly fallen in love with Bracca. I’d been flailing around ever since trying to find a way to save us both. But there simply wasn’t any way.

I’d thought sending Bracca away might preserve his life and maybe even mine. But that would have ruined all of Larek’s grand plans for an easy takeover. He could have simply disposed of all the nobles, enslaved all the common people and as for me…he could just let the curse take its course. After all, his son wouldn’t be affected, because for him it wasn’t a matter of love at all. He felt possessive and jealous like the curse made him. But only I had been foolish enough to succumb to my feelings of love. So only I would truly suffer.

I was just at a loss as to what to do about it.

*****

Bracca

My father and I walked out to meet the Elves, about halfway between our encampment and the city gates. We were going to ask for their surrender, as the outcome was inevitable. Surely they must know that. I could already see who it was—Hendris, of course, most of his council members and the one I longed and dreaded to see most in the world, Killian himself.

Sitting by the campfire with my men two nights before this, drinking hot, mulled wine that was as dark and rich as blood, I had been gazing up at the city gates of the Daeneid, wondering if I should just get drunk. If I did, would that help this empty feeling inside me to go away? The anger had filled me and driven me a while, but as the minutes and hours passed, it was fading. French mortals had a word for it— désolé.

The word meant sorry , and I was. More and more with each passing moment. Sorry I’d ever met him. Sorry I’d allowed myself to get caught up in his web of lies and deceit and begin to care for him. Sorry that I now had to lock him away for being unfaithful to me. It would be easier in some ways to simply kill him, but we needed his blood on the stone to keep the city alive.

A man had been standing there at the gates looking down at us from just behind the bars, and I knew instinctively who it was. It was too far away and too dark to see for sure, but I’d know him anywhere. I longed to go to him, almost as much as I wanted to throttle him. Where had these crazy, complicated feelings come from? How had it come to this? I had been close to killing him in that throne room a few days ago, and that had to be the result of the curse on Daeneid. That and the way Hendris stood beside him, possessively touching him and speaking for him and acting as if Killian belonged to him. Killing them both and reveling in their blood had been all I could think about. I’d never felt jealousy like that before.

I had been infuriated way out of proportion and beyond all reason. Was that the curse I’d heard about at work? I had never believed in it before and most of me still thought it was foolish, but the way I’d felt was undeniable. I was a Fairy, and I believed in curses on people—I had seen those happen. But never one on a stone .

Damn it, I didn’t want Killian dead. I couldn’t bear the thought of it. So what had happened with us? And was there any way to reverse it?

Intricate curses required a spell placed directly on the one involved. I’d heard about generational curses, but I’d never seen one that actually worked. If I’d had any idea the curse was in place, I’d never have allowed Killian to get anywhere near that stone. I certainly wouldn’t have encouraged him to put his blood on it.

I could well imagine what he looked like standing there by the gate tonight in the cold night air. He’d be wearing his fur that he loved so much, and his hair would be flipped over the collar of the coat, streaming down his back, the silvery white tresses mixed with the golden blond making a vibrant contrast to the black mink. If I were standing in front of him, he would lower his eyes, and his long eyelashes would be like smudges on his cheeks. Those incredible eyes, as green as emeralds, would sparkle at me as he dared a look up into mine. He always looked so glad to see me. Had that all been a ruse and a trick? Did he feel any genuine affection for me at all? And if he did, why did he take up with that Elf as soon as I left him alone? Could that have been the curse at work too?

Why did he have to be so beautiful anyway? I wanted to punish him for it—I wanted to hurt him, but at the same time I wanted to hold him in my arms forever and never let him go. How could I hate someone and love them so much at the same time? I’d never felt so out of control and so confused as to why the word “love” had begun leaking out of me like water from a rusty bucket. Why had that word even occurred to me? I didn’t love him. I’d been carefully taught all my life that love was something people only pretended to feel. It was a lie, and we were better off without it.

Then this morning, a message had come from Killian. He had wanted to talk, he said. My father had scoffed at first, but in the end, he was too curious to see what Killian wanted to say. We had agreed to meet him and his “Regent” in a small clearing outside the gates.

The snow-covered trees around the clearing grew in a quarter-moon shape and as Killian and his council came forward, with their guards arranging themselves around them. I was aware of our own guards spreading themselves out behind us too, facing the others and shifting uneasily on their feet, their hands on their weapons. The only sounds were creaks of leather and the shuffling of boots, along with the soft wind sighing around us. Danger flew through the air like bolts from a crossbow.

As usual, what weak sunlight there was seemed to shine down directly on Killian, but maybe that was just my imagination. He looked nervous and tense as he approached us, and I saw how little sleep he’d had recently. I steeled myself against him and tried to compose myself.

“Good morning, Your Majesty ,” my father said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Killian didn’t take the bait. He nodded at my father and looked over at me. “Bracca,” he said softly. “I’m glad you decided to come. We need to talk.”

“We have nothing to say to each other,” I snapped and immediately regretted it. What was wrong with me?

“We’re here to listen to what you have to say,” my father replied. “I assume you want to surrender and want to negotiate the most favorable terms.”

Killian looked back at him and took a deep breath. “Then you assume wrong. We’ve decided to fight you and drive you away.”

“Fight us? We’ll defeat you very quickly.”

“I suppose that remains to be seen.”

My father glared at Killian. “You finally picked a side for yourself, did you? But not the side of your husband. I see you have a problem doing that.”

Killian got a pink flush on his creamy complexion and glanced over at me. “I picked a side the night I married your son. Though you both seem to have trouble remembering it.”

The king scoffed and glanced over at me, as if to see my expression. When he found me steadily staring at Killian, he frowned.

“Enough of this! You say you want to fight? What about here and now?”

Hendris spoke up. “If you want a fight then we’ll give you one. Winner takes all. Stags, armor, everything in the city. The city itself. But first you have to agree to let the non-combatants go. The women and children…let them walk away before the battle begins. No executions, no rapes or assaults on women and children. Defeat us if you can, and the city will be yours.”

That’s when I gave a loud bark of laughter. “A city with a curse on it? One that will deteriorate even further if Killian leaves? No, thank you. Don’t worry, if we win, then we won’t kill your people. We need them to work the mines. And we’ll need Killian to agree to stay and keep the throne alive.”

“That’s outrageous!” Hendris yelled. “You offer us no real terms? No concessions? Just tell us to leave? We’ll fight you to the death if we have to.”

“You’ll have to!” I cried, spurring my stag to ride closer and pulling my sword to attack him.

My father grabbed the reins to stop me. “We agreed to this parley! There’ll be time to kill him later.”

He turned back toward Hendris. “Very well, we offer this. We’ll let your people go—if Killian stays. I can get people to work the mines, but we need the city intact.”

“No!” Hendris cried. “That’s impossible.”

“Then we’ll kill you all to the last man, woman and child,” Larek said.

“Wait! Please, Bracca. I have a question!” Killian cried out.

“What question?” my father snarled back at him.

“I want to know how long,” Killian said, looking directly at me and speaking so softly I barely heard him.

I turned sharply to look at him. “What? What did you say?” I asked him.

“I said, how long would you want me to stay if I agreed to do this?”

Hendris interrupted his reply. “No, sire. I can’t let you do this!”

“It’s my decision to make, Hendris.” He turned to me again. “Well? How long would you want me to stay?”

I laughed out loud. “For as long as you live, Killian. I’ll never let you go.”

My father spun around in his saddle to stare at me as did the council members. But I barely noticed any of them. As far as I was concerned, it was just me and Killian there. No one else existed. No one else mattered.

“Well?” I said. “Do you agree? Or are you afraid?”

He gazed at me a long time and then sadly nodded. “I’m not afraid of you, Bracca. I agree to your terms.”

“You agree, knowing that you won’t have your freedom? That I’ll keep you locked up for the rest of your days?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice so soft I could barely hear him. “Whatever you say. Whatever you want. But remember—you have to win first.”

“Bracca,” my father said in an urgent voice. “We may need to talk about this.”

“No! I have one other proposal to make.”

Killian was still looking at me. He raised his chin bravely. “What other proposal?”

“Killian likes the tournaments. In fact, he had one planned for his coronation. So we can have a melee. The Elves against us, but this time, the winners take all.”

His eyes widened at my suggestion, and he hesitated. In that moment I almost relented and took it back. I had mostly been taunting him, but it looked as if he were taking my proposition seriously. I hated that hopeless, despairing look on his face, but I knew his bleeding heart would take me up on it. He’d want to be the hero and keep the casualties to a minimum. He would ask for blunted weapons. I sat on my stag and watched him, waiting to see what he would say.

Hendris looked worried and held out an imploring hand to Killian. It was obvious he’d fallen in love with my beautiful boy. Who wouldn’t? But Killian belonged to me. And I’d never let him go.

Killian looked over at Hendris and smiled, as if he were trying to comfort him, and once again the jealousy I felt almost overwhelmed me.

“Look at me, damn you! Only at me! Do you agree to my proposal or not?”

“Yes. All right,” Killian said, after a moment. “I agree to your terms. We’ll have a melee. Winner takes all.”

A gasp went up, but I nodded and held his gaze, and I was gratified to see he couldn’t look away.

“But the fight won’t be to the death,” he said. “Do you swear it? Give me your word on it.”

I shrugged. “Injuries and deaths do occur in melees. You know that. But to the extent we can, we’ll minimize the injuries with blunted weapons.”

“Do I have your word on it?”

“If my word means anything to you, then yes, you have it.”

But then, Killian asked, “What if we win the melee? Do you promise to leave and not return?”

I smirked at him. I couldn’t see any way they could ever win against me and my men. “Is that what you want?”

“Bracca, I need you to go away and never come back again. We have to separate, darling. We have to divorce, and I can never, ever see you again. It’s the only way for either of us to survive. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise, what?”

He shook his head, looking down at his feet. I was surprised at how much what he’d said had hurt. He wanted me gone, huh? He wanted me to never come back so he never had to see me again. I glared at him with something like hatred sweeping over me.

“If that’s what you want, then you’ll have it. But don’t count on winning, darling,” I said, mockingly, using the word he’d used for me. “There’s not much chance of that.”

I glared at him for another few seconds and then I wheeled my stag around and rode away. I never looked back at him, though I wanted to, and though I could feel his gaze boring into my back.