A Curse So Dark and Lonely (The Cursebreaker Series Book 1)

Coale and Evalyn are bickering.

My hands and face are frozen after being out in the cold for most of the afternoon, but overhearing an argument about what to serve the royal guests convinces me to slip up the steps.

The room is freezing despite the snapping flames in the fireplace. When I move to check the window, it’s closed, but down in the courtyard, Rhen and Grey are locked in tense conversation.

I think His Highness will not like it.

Well, that was patently obvious.

I sigh and draw the curtains closed, then move to drop on the side of the bed. I rub my hands against my thighs, trying to warm them. The bulky hand-stitching of the doeskin riding pants catches on my knuckles. I wonder how it’s possible I’ve only been here a day and a half.

That moment in the stables, when here felt real and home felt like a dream, has grown stronger, like a bizarre kind of vertigo. Or maybe it’s the reverse. Maybe all this still feels like a dream and I’m not panicking because I’m just waiting to wake up.

I pinch myself.

This isn’t a dream.

I close my eyes and hug my arms to my body, thinking of my mother. When I was little, she would tell me that we all have a spark inside of us, and our sparks can find each other no matter where we are. It gave me a lot of comfort when I was young.

It’s giving me a lot of comfort now. I never asked her what would happen to her spark if she dies.

When she dies.

I have to press a hand to my chest and hold my breath.

No, I need to breathe. I gulp for oxygen and try to sob without making any noise.

But then it passes. I can breathe. I can survive.

I don’t know how long Mom can. A season is three months.

I pull the phone out of my pocket. The battery tells me there’s six percent left. I go to the photo album again. Mom. Jake. Noah. Me. Repeat.

The phone flashes a warning: 5% power remaining. It’s meaningless, really. What does that mean? Five minutes? Ten? One?

My face itches and I swipe at my cheeks, surprised when my fingertips come away wet. I remember once reading an article about the psychology of crosswalks, how adding a countdown makes it less stressful for drivers because they know how long they have to wait at a light. There was something about knowing how long you have to suffer that was better than just waiting.

The article was right.

It makes me think of Rhen, too, the indeterminate length of this curse. It’s some kind of miracle it hasn’t broken him.

I keep swiping through pictures.

Four percent.

I swap over to Jake’s text messages. Nothing has changed. They’re all there. I read as far as the chat history will load for his messages with Noah and with Mom—but it’s not far. The screen scrolls back about twelve hours, and then I get the spinning wheel. With Mom, I can imagine her voice. With Noah, I’m just curious, but the messages don’t give much context. He mentions working a night shift, but that could be anything.

For the first time, I click on the messages from Lawrence.

LN: If he doesn’t have it, take care of it

JAKE: I will

LN: No excuses

JAKE: I know

LN: You will, or we’ll take it up with your sister

JAKE: I’ll do it

My heart turns to ice. I’ll do it.

I don’t want to guess. I don’t need to guess. I know what they’ve tried to get him to do.

“No, Jake,” I whisper. My gentle brother.

The timer counted down. He wasn’t out.

We’ll take it up with your sister.

If he made it out, I wouldn’t have been there. He would have been frantic trying to find me.

If he didn’t make it out …

I press an arm against my abdomen, using my other hand to cover my face. I can’t stop the tears now. My shoulders shake fiercely. I’m sobbing openly.

The phone vibrates. Powering down.

“No!” I scream. I jam my finger on the button. The screen dies anyway.

The bedroom door swings open. Grey stands in the doorway, his eyes seeking a threat. “My lady?”

I gasp and press the phone to my chest. My heart is beating so fast I almost can’t breathe. My hands are shaking to where I can barely keep a grip on the phone.

I don’t even know why. It’s nothing now. A brick of glass and plastic and circuitry.

“My lady.” Grey’s voice is very quiet and right in front of me. He’s dropped to one knee. “What has happened?”

“It died.”

“Your device?” I can hear the confusion in his voice. “But they do not work—”

“I know.” I sniff hard. “I know. But there were pictures. My mother—my brother—it’s all I had.”

I don’t know if he understands. But he says, “Should I call for—”

“No.” I almost choke on my tears. I can’t stand the thought of facing Rhen’s arrogant composure when I’m dissolving into despair. “Please.”

He’s quiet for a moment, during which my tears sound very loud. “You have a way to see your world?” he finally says.

“No. Maybe. Sort of.” I drag a sleeve across my eyes. “Not anymore. Just—just pictures. But it died. I don’t know if they’re okay. They don’t know if I’m okay.”

“Your brother. Your mother.”

“My brother was in trouble. Before—before you took me. I was his lookout. And my mom is sick—she could be dead—”

Rhen appears in the doorway. I watch as he registers our relative positions.

Great. Like I need this right now. I glare up at him. “Go away. You’re the cause of all of this.”

Grey stands. Turns. “My lord. A word?”

“I would hope more than one.”

Grey steps through the doorway, closing the door behind him.

I sit on the edge of the bed and listen to myself breathe. I set down the useless phone.

I count to ten. To twenty. By fifty, my brain starts working again.

By one hundred, I’m angry.

I glance at the strip of window visible between the curtains. The sky has gone from piercing blue to red-streaked clouds. Sunset.

I stand and walk to the door. I throw it wide.

Rhen and Grey stand in the hallway.

This time, Rhen’s eyes are full of empathy. Manufactured, I’m sure. He straightens and comes to stand in front of me. “My lady—I did not—”

I draw back my hand and slap him as hard as I can.

He doesn’t see it coming. It throws his head to the side.

I don’t wait for a reaction. I duck back into the room and slam the door in his face.

And then I turn the lock.