Chapter Ten
The trek through the Curselands was safer than traveling with only Gil.
There were enough warriors and Curse Mages to defend against anything.
But Carys stayed close to her brother, like a weak child surrounded by predators.
There was no true safety. Dark shapes flew across the maroon sky, intermittent roars punctured the silence, and hidden runes held traps by rogue mages.
Exhaustion enveloped her, blurring the nightmarish terrain.
Her legs shook, worn by the double curse, and bearing the shielding amulet, but she refused to show any weakness.
Any sign of frailty made her a target of Meical's liegemen.
If she looked weak, so would her brother.
They could use her to hurt him. A display of strength was her only protection from the most ruthless and conniving of them.
Something the Dalon prince didn't understand.
Weariness and wariness of threats weren't the reasons she stuck so close to her brother.
She struggled to ignore the wounded prince trudging after them.
Her attempts to disregard him ended in utter failure.
Every few minutes, someone shoved the prince, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Eventually, he seemed to expect the attacks and did his best to avoid the blows.
But his wounded body moved too slowly, and he went back down.
Her teeth gritted at each thump. Any help would be a sign of weakness.
And she didn't understand her desire to stop the whole business.
He was the enemy.
Meical had a few chuckles at the prince's expense, but grew exasperated at the commotion.
"You could tell your warriors to stop," she said as they traveled through an area littered with bones.
"Why?" He picked up something resembling a human skull. "They blame his family for their imprisonment in this infernal abyss. They're loyal because I allow them to follow their desires. If it makes them feel better, even for a moment... how can I ask them to stop?"
She looked back and forth at Bradon and Nyx. Neither would intervene. Nyx understood the need to express anger, and Bradon likely viewed the whole thing as a petty inconvenience.
Her mouth twisted as she struggled to find a persuasive argument. What could she say? It was unnecessary. The prince wasn't directly responsible for their imprisonment. The young man just lost everything.
A few shoves wouldn't inflict more misery.
She shrugged. "Because it's annoying?"
He laughed and put his arm around her. She didn't like being touched, but didn't pull away.
"You did a good job, Nightshade," he said, sidestepping a pile of bones and her questions. "Everything will soon change."
She flinched as the prince cried out. "Do you think you can build a big enough army?" she asked, hoping her brother hadn't noticed her reaction. "So few were willing to come this time."
He nodded. "That was when it was a one-way passage to the Starlands. But when you permanently pry that portal open, more will flock to the cause. Anything for revenge, anything for a true chance to leave this hellhole."
She stepped over a half-eaten bone. "I know you're going to attack until the Star Mages heal the curse that binds us to this land," she said quietly. "But what if they don't? No matter what we do? The prince condemned himself to hell rather than bring suffering to another."
Meical frowned as he examined the empty eye sockets in the skull, "It's the very reason they'll heal us. When people realize all that they hold dear isn't safe, they will have no choice."
"How can you be certain?"
He tossed the skull to Bradon. "Because people are weak, Nightshade."
Unconvinced, she didn't argue, needing his conviction.
She needed to see the sky again.
Her skin crawled as another loud thump echoed.
Meical raised an eyebrow. "Nightshade, if you want them to stop, you need to make them stop."
"Why would they heed me?"
"Because you're a witch who could easily curse their favorite parts off?" he teased.
She gave him a dirty look.
"And there's the fact that the prince belongs to you."
Her face twisted. It was common for Curse Mages to claim slaves, but it held no appeal for her. She had even less interest in possessing the prince. If he wasn't pivotal to the plan, she would be happy to never see him again.
Meical shot her a knowing look. "You might not like the taste, but you chose to drink the wine. Your life is connected to his miserable life. He is your property, and you cursed somebody once for breaking your mirror."
"I was thirteen, and that was a completely reasonable reaction," she said, trying to hide her embarrassment.
He smiled and gave her a little shove toward the prince. "You knew the laws of the land when you were thirteen, and you know them now, Nightshade. Show them why you're the most fearsome witch in the Curselands."
With great reluctance, she strode over to the small group tormenting the young man. Most serious mages and warriors weren't bothering but gave the attackers a wide berth.
As one big brute swung a fist at the prince, Carys unleashed her power, knocking the attacker down. As he fell, she fought to remain standing. The magic took so much from her already exhausted body, leaving her with the sensation of slamming straight into a stone wall.
She forced herself to stand tall. "Enough!" she snapped. "That's mine. No one touches it without permission."
The biggest bearded man moved closer in a menacing manner. "Little witch, that bastard is an arrogant—"
A rock shot from the ground, striking his head and silencing him. "He is arrogant," she agreed. "But he's still belongs to me. You know the Laws of the Beasts. If you damage my property, I'll pay you back tenfold."
None of them were eager to risk her wrath. But the bearded man's petulant grumbling took away any semblance of a gracious defeat, and he seemed ready to kick the prince again.
She didn't feel bad at all about sending the rock back at the man's head.
They moved away from the prince, filing around her. The prince hugged himself, wary eyes upon the exchange.
The rest of the group was gaining distance. "Come," Carys ordered the prince as she turned to catch up.
"No."
She paused before turning to face the defiant young man. Despite the blood and grime staining his face, he glared at her.
"I beg your pardon?" she said in a cold tone.
"Oh? You have manners?" He held up his hands in mock surprise. "Well, I shall do you the courtesy of repeating myself. No. I do not come running at your command. You trapped me, but I'm not a thing."
"Do you remember what I can do?"
He wiped the bloody residue from his mouth.
"No, I somehow forgot during the last hour," he said, the Curselands already bringing sarcasm out of the noble prince.
"Of course, I remember. But I don't think you went through all of this trouble just to kill Bella now.
So you needn't bother with empty threats. "
She wanted to strike him with a stone or leave him for bloodthirsty fools. The very atmosphere of the Curselands stoked her desire for vengeance. Her magic sparked, ready to flare out.
Then she remembered the shock and anguish as the prince fell into the portal, and her dark desires extinguished.
But she heard footsteps slowing. They were attracting an audience. If she didn't put him in his place, then her place, her very life, would be at risk.
"Very well," she said stonily. "I'll leave you to your new friends."
"Aidan."
"What?"
"My name is Aidan." He looked straight at her, sadness and thoughtfulness blending in his beautiful green eyes. "Not 'that' and not 'it'. If you want me to do something, at least use my name. I can't expect a 'please', but I should be able to expect my name."
His statement caught her off guard. The worst part was that she agreed with what he was saying. Unwilling to handle regret, she summoned up resentment. "Your bonny love called me a thing."
The prince's face crinkled, and he fell quiet for a moment. "I am not her." He shrugged, unable to offer a defense of his love. "And neither are you. Her actions shouldn't dictate ours. I'm your prisoner. Not a thing. So use my name."
Despite his bland, diplomatic tone, Carys suspected he was manipulating her. She gritted her teeth. "Come... Aidan."
She turned and discovered that many lingered to watch the show.
Before she could unleash magic on them, they rushed after her brother.
A few still smirked, and she tried to remember the faces, knowing they could be future enemies.
Her head remained high, and steps steady, even as she wanted to run to Meical.
Surprise rippled through her as the echo of hurried footsteps chased after her. It took a moment for Aidan to keep pace with her, little grunts indicating that pain slowed him down.
"I still won't call you Prince Aidan," she said with a huff.
A brief laugh shocked her. The laughter changed to a cough, and she tried to convince herself that he was just choking on the ash. No one could show any humor after such a loss.
"You needn't call me prince," he said with faint merriment tinging his tone. "I think coming down into the Curselands counts as relinquishing my title."
"I am surprised at your mirth. You know you will never see your family again. You will never see your true love. You will never see the sun." She paused before adding, "Aidan."
His footsteps ceased for a moment before the steady clomping of boots resumed. But he said nothing else.
She didn't understand her remorse. It was just a small taunt.
He suffered greater harm because of her.
"Why are there so many bones?"
His odd attempt at conversation threw her. "This place is called the Offering Grounds. There was a time when sacrifices were left for Curse Creatures."
"Why?"
She lifted her skirt to avoid an arm bone that seemed to grow from the ground. "Because when people were first condemned to this land, they thought the mighty beasts might offer then protection."
He flinched as his boot crunched down on something. "Did it work?"
She waved her hand, trying to disperse the falling ash. "Many of these bones are from the offerers."
He frowned. "Then maybe it should be called Offerers Grounds?"
That almost sounded like a jest, the sort of humor that Gil enjoyed. But she couldn't believe that he could joke after his ordeal. "Why?"
He winced as he raised his injured leg over a particularly large pile of bones. "As a warning about happens when you hurt others for your own gain." He grimaced. "You end up no better than those that you hurt."
She shouldn't be surprised at his judgmental perspective, but still fought the urge to push him back into the pile of bones. "No, the name is a warning against weakness. If you are weak, you will end up a heap of bones."
They came to a thin rope bridge over a ravine. More bones littered the narrow valley below.
The others had already crossed..
"I don't understand." Aidan clutched onto the rope. "How can people do such things?"
She refused to look down. "Easily enough."
He looked back. They weren't even halfway, and her stomach flipped at the unnatural rocking of the bridge. "You truly see nothing wrong with such acts?"
"No." She dug her fingers into the frayed rope until her knuckles turned white. "Law of the Beasts."
"Beg pardon?"
She resisted the impulse to rub fallen ash from her eyes, keeping her sweaty hands on the rope.
"If you want to survive your first day in the Curselands, you should understand our way of living.
We follow the Law of the Beasts. Only the strong survive.
If you are weak enough to die, then you deserve to die. "
He blinked. "What?"
A sliver of space allowed her to slide by him. Her hands clutched the rope as she maneuvered around the prince. She paused for a moment, finding herself face to face with him. He still carried the scent of forests and earth.
It was all she could do not to lean into him and breathe deeply.
"If I pushed you off the bridge right now, you would deserve it for not stopping me," she said in a low voice.
He paled, but didn't budge. "And if I did the same to you?"
"I'd deserve it." She cocked her head. "Should you like to try?"
The bridge creaked and swayed while he considered her words. He looked away, and she pushed past him. Inexplicable tingles shot through her as she brushed against his warm body.
Star Magic. The proximity of his magic was making her fuzzy.
"I would be careful," she warned, stepping over a hole in the bridge.
"I saw the hole."
"I meant about the Law of the Beasts." Her bare feet scraped against a particularly sharp edge of rotten wood. "Everyone knows you were weak enough to come down here for something as meaningless as love. That weakness will only encourage further attacks."
"One could argue it's strong to make such a sacrifice for someone they love," he said, bitterness roughening his words.
She froze, and he bumped into her. "No one down here will see that as strength. If you don't wish to be attacked, you have to show strength."
"And what am I to do?"
She spotted Meical waving, and her speed increased. "You could rip someone's heart out."
Aidan snorted. "I'm sure that Curselord would not be happy if I did such a thing."
She shrugged. "My brother doesn't need those who can't defend themselves. In truth, he would pound you into the ground for an act against him, but you would be doing him a favor by ridding him of a weak link."
"None of this makes any sense." He huffed. "If he beat me, wouldn't I still appear weak?"
"Aye." She glanced back at him. "But there is no shame in being beaten by the strongest of all."
It was a mistake to look. Her stomach soured at his naked disgust. She had wasted her time on someone who could never understand.
Only the creaking of the bridge sounded during their silent trek to the other side.
Rejoining the group, they continued their journey.
Aidan's revulsion grew plainer as a few warriors loudly discussed damage the beasts had wrought on the Starlands.
Focused on keeping. her weakened body upright, she didn't have time to worry about his scruples.
They passed pits of green fire shrouded in gray fog. Emerald flames flew up, striking anyone not swift enough to dodge. She usually summoned magic as a defense, but fatigue rendered her vulnerable to stray sparks. Her skin sizzled, but she swallowed her screams.
A steady stream of yelps demonstrated Aidan couldn't avoid them.
She swerved. "Can't you use magic to shield yourself?"
"No," he said shortly.
A burning sensation almost tore a scream from her. Only sheer determination kept her from keeling over. Smoke sizzled out of a hole in her skirt, and she fought the need to massage the scorched skin.
Fury boiled at the prince. If it hadn't been for his stubbornness, she wouldn't have stopped minding the sparks.
She opened her mouth to yell at him, only for him to shove her. Heat surged as she stumbled toward a pit. He grabbed her hand, yanking her back from the edge.
"What are you doing?" she snapped as fiery warmth billowed beneath her.
He pointed to where she had stood. "I assume you didn't want to go up in flames."
Smoke hissed, and a black scorch mark stained the ground. The power of the mystical fire would have left her a pile of ash.
She glanced around, fearful somebody witnessed the prince helping. To her relief, the fog served as a barrier to hide her weakness. She turned back to Aidan and realized that he was still holding onto her.
"I can take care of myself," she said, snatching her hand away.
He frowned. "You weren't doing a very good job of it. And your life is tangled up with Princess Bella's."
Of course. He helped because of Bella.
They continued along, doing their best to avoid the green sparks. Soon the fog thinned, and two enormous black pillars came into view. There was no way around them since the pits of fire opened into massive crevices of flames.
Aidan fidgeted as they neared the inferno, choosing to distract himself by pestering her with questions. "Why is there so much fire?"
"I don't know."
"Can't anyone extinguish it?"
She squashed the urge to smack him. "No."
"Why?"
"Somebody used great sacrifice magic to make eternal fire. Someone else would have to make a similar sacrifice to stop it."
"Why don't you do it?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to sacrifice people?"
He fell silent.
Guilt crushed down her irritation. "My brother prefers the fire. It keeps enemies away from Ghost Tower."
"So... is it called Ghost Tower because it's haunted, or is it the ghost of a tower?"
She attempted to gauge the expression on his grubby face. "That is a jest?"
"Aye." He gazed at the bloody sky. "Although I suppose it's hard to cultivate a sense of humor down here."
"We've a sense of humor. The Curse Mages beating you? That's our humor."
"I suppose it's hard to appreciate certain regional humor," he said in a light tone.
She stiffened. Wat was he trying to do? Befriend her? Was he a fool? Was this some sort of scheme?
"I like the name Ghost Tower." He laughed. "My brother would say that it fits the eerie atmosphere. Have you a Fiend Fortress or Venom Villa? Maybe a Curse Cottage?"
She rolled her eyes. "Ghost Tower was given its name because that is what we are. Ghosts."
"You're as pale as the dead, but I'm fairly certain you aren't a ghost."
"Maybe we're not dead... but would you call this living?
" she asked. "We are living as ghosts, haunting a dead world.
We are nothing. You can insist upon being addressed by your name, but it doesn't change the fact that this is the day that you became nothing.
Once you've dwelled in this land for a year, you can never return to a world of life.
You aren't dead, but you are already a ghost."
She didn't hear another merry remark or laugh from him.
That was good. His laughter carried too much of a world that she may never see again.