The Curse of Dawn
DID I MENTION I’m cursed?
I don’t mean metaphorically. If I’m not within
the bounds of Bloodthorn Manor every dawn, it causes me immense pain that won’t cease until I return. Lord Bloodthorn bound me so when I was little, the first time I ran away. He hated me, but I was still his, by fae law, and he doesn’t give up his belongings.
Usually, the curse means I simply stay inside the grounds until dawn has safely passed. But sometimes, I wake early and can’t settle until I’ve pushed both my luck and the walls of my cage as far as they’ll go.
The first day of the thrice-held ball was such an occasion.
I spent the pre-dawn hours in the wilds of the Golden Wood beyond Bloodthorn Manor, beating my mood into the earth with each footstep.
Today, I would have to help my stepsisters prepare for a ball that I was forbidden to attend and be reminded of all the ways in which I was lacking.
I wasn’t angry, I told myself sternly, squashing the rebellious feeling down.
Why did I even want to go to a probably dull royal ball?
With the land’s most skilled musicians playing their hearts out, and rooms filled with laughter and enchantment, and dance after dance to enjoy …
I pulled my mind away from those imaginings sharply.
It wasn’t as if anybody would dance with a lowly human, anyway. Foolish to yearn after it.
I should be grateful for what I had, for food and shelter and family that cared for me, in their way. Some of them, at least. Many couldn’t boast of so much. I stomped as I made each point to myself. Healthful morning exercise and all that.
With only a few minutes to spare before dawn, I turned back toward the boundary.
A whirr of dark wings caught my attention.
The bird followed my path, flitting from tree to tree beside me.
A tūī, iridescent blue-black feathers sparkling in the pre-dawn, its crisp white throat tuft bobbing.
The birds were common in the Golden Wood, though I’d heard that hadn’t been the case before King Tāwhiri’s rule.
The Wood changes to reflect its ruler, they say.
Other birds called in the still air, but the tūī didn’t join them with its distinctive song. It moved instead with odd deliberateness, approaching the same garden wall as me tree-by-tree in careful stages, until—
“No!” I gasped, too late.
The tūī landed on the deceptively smooth-barked tree that marked Bloodthorn Manor’s entrance, and all the tree’s thorns sprang from their retracted sheaths.
The tūī squawked and took flight—or tried to.
The branches had already closed around it, forming an ever-tightening cage, long cruel thorns turning inward toward their prey.
I sprinted the distance to the bloodthorn and slammed my hand against the trunk. The thorns retracted around my hand just in time, forming a palm-shaped hollow.
“Stop!”
The tree shuddered, and I could feel its reluctance to obey, the desire for blood that its maker had impressed upon it.
“I am a daughter of the house, and you may not hurt me! Stop!” I cried again.
With a final shiver, the thorns stopped tightening, but they didn’t retract. I peered up through the interlaced thorns and branches. The bird huddled in a cage of thorns, trapped, but at least none had yet penetrated its flesh. The dark eyes of the tūī met mine.
“Let it go,” I told the tree.
The tree ignored me.
I shouted at the tree for a bit, and it pretended not to hear me.
The bloodthorn only barely respected the authority I’d claimed over it.
I knew as soon as I removed my hand from the trunk, the tree would leap back into action.
It was hungry; the local wildlife had long since learnt to give it a wide berth.
Dawn was nearly upon me, and I could feel the tether in my chest beginning to grow tight. But if I left the tree to cross the bounds, it would kill the bird before I could make it back.
“Fool bird,” I grumbled up at the tūī, tucking my skirts up in a way that would outrage my stepmother’s sense of propriety and starting to unlace my boots. I kept a palm against the trunk the entire time.
I climbed, the tether in my chest growing tighter, hotter.
It was slow going, the thorns retracting sullenly as I reached for each handhold, as if the tree were making a point of being as unhelpful as possible.
It was Lord Bloodthorn’s creation, and it was just as resentful of me as he was.
But oaths bind fae and their magic, and the tree could not harm those who belonged to the manor, no matter how much it might want to in my case.
When I reached the branch that held the tūī at its far end, I thought the tree might give in, but no, it continued to make me fight for every inch. Obstinate bloody thing.
“Hang on,” I told the bird.
I scarcely see what else I could be doing at this moment.
I nearly fell off the branch. The voice had sounded in my head, deep and resonant, prickling with sarcasm. A magic-touched creature, then. They weren’t so uncommon in Faerie, though I would have thought a wyrling would have more sense than to alight on a bloodthorn.
“A bit of gratitude wouldn’t go astray, since I’m rescuing you,” I said as I eased my body along the branch.
A very slow rescue, I might note.
“Any more helpful comments before I leave the tree to eat you?”
The tūī said nothing. The branch grew thin as I neared his thorny cage, trembling under my weight, and the stinging in my chest had become a burning, a line of fire spreading out from my heart. Tears filled my eyes as the first rays of dawn lapped over the garden wall.
Even when I reached out to touch the thorny cage, the tree reacted sluggishly, so that I had to wrap my hand around each thorn and force the tree to retract them one by one.
By the time I’d forced a big enough gap, I was panting, my limbs shaking with pain, unable to stop tears leaking from my eyes.
At last, it was done. The tūī darted free.
As soon as the tūī took flight, the bloodthorn relaxed, all its thorns smoothing out.
I dropped to the soft earth, my knees threatening to give out, and stumbled across the bounds in blind agony to collapse in the meadow.
The pain slowly ebbed, and I gasped myself back to awareness.
My heart thudded loudly in my ears, still too fast.
A beak filled my field of vision. What ails you, my lady?
I yelped and sat up.
The tūī flew out of the way to perch on a nearby tree stump. You’re human, aren’t you?
“Well spotted. Also, you’re welcome for the rescue.” My arms and bare feet were dirty and scratched. I got up stiffly and stomped back over the boundary to my boots. I couldn’t help tensing as I did so, even knowing that the curse wouldn’t reactivate until tomorrow’s dawn.
That was a curse that struck just now, wasn’t it?
“Yes,” I said tiredly, lacing up my boots.
How does it work? He had the kind of voice that sounded like it was used to being obeyed without question, which was somewhat amusing coming from a bird not even a foot high.
“That’s a very personal question, and we haven’t even been introduced,” I pointed out. “Besides, I have to go.”
The tūī puffed himself up. You may call me Golden.
An odd name for a dark-coloured bird, but it’s a rare fae creature who gives their true name to a stranger.
I owe you a debt for saving me. Perhaps I can free you from this curse, if you tell me what it is, Daughter of Bloodthorn Manor. Is that something you want?
Freedom. My heart gave a single hard beat.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I want that.” The dangerous, vulnerable admission fell from my lips before I could stop it.
I hurried on, my thoughts muddled by hope and caution.
“The curse is a blood-binding, linking me to the manor house. Lord Bloodthorn laid it on me as a child. I have to be inside the boundary at dawn.”
And if you’re not?
I hesitated. This was dangerous information, but he’d already seen me lying weeping in the dirt.
It wouldn’t be exactly difficult to guess.
“Pain, increasing until I pass the boundaries. I tried resisting, once.” I swallowed, even the memory making my mouth dry.
Did you know you can lose consciousness from pain?
If my stepmother hadn’t come looking for me and carried me back across the bounds, I don’t know what would have happened.
It had taken me a week of bedrest to recover.
Golden sat motionless, every feather pulled tight against his sleek body. I owe you more than I realised, for saving me at the cost of your own pain. I will try to free you.
There was a beat of magic, and something twanged in my chest. Hope surged, only to die a mere breath later as the sensation faded.
He shook his head. This curse cannot be broken by force alone.
I gave myself a shake. What had I been thinking, letting myself hope?
The curse had been laid by the lord of a great house who also counted as my father in the strange ways that mattered to fae magic.
Golden was only a wyrling, a fae creature with a bit of extra magic to distinguish it from the ordinary sort. “Never mind, then. It’s fine.”
In what manner is this terrible curse you suffer ‘fine’?
I didn’t know what to say. No one had ever challenged my declarations of fine-ness before. “I mean, thank you for trying, but you don’t owe me anything more than that. Consider whatever debt you owe me paid.”
No.
I frowned down at the bird, who didn’t even blink. Stubborn thing. I didn’t like the idea of holding a debt over such a small creature. “Grant me a feather or a song, then, if you still feel you owe me something. But I have to go.”
I hurried back to the manor before he could respond.