Page 77 of Cursed By Gold

"You did it," I whisper hoarsely.

Rose squeezes me fiercely with her good arm. "We did it," she insists. I can only nod, not trusting my voice. At least one of us succeeded today. I will celebrate with her later. But right now, grief scrapes at the ragged edges of my soul. I only wish to escape the probing eyes and find somewhere quiet to nurse my wounds.

Rose seems to sense my need, releasing me with an understanding look. As the king places the victor's wreath of golden laurels on her head, I slip quietly down the platform stepsignoring the cheering masses. Their joyful triumphs are salt in the raw wound of my loss.

I wind silently through emptying passageways under the arena, not paying heed to direction. I want only solitude, to unleash the black wave building within me before it drags me under in public view. This may be weakness, but I no longer care. The trials demanded every ounce of courage and strength I possessed. With the finish line lost, what reserves are left?

At last I stumble out into the street outside, empty still with the stands full. Soon the masses will swarm out. Gasping raggedly, I stagger to a bench nearby and deposit my worn and tired body into the seat.

I surrendered everything - my good name, my inheritance, my happiness - for the slim chance at victory here. And still I failed. Now I am utterly alone against the cold future looming before me. No options or hope remain.

Anguish and fear crash through me until I am spent. Somewhere in my fit, I scraped my knuckles the bench. But the physical pain barely registers through the yawning hollowness within. I am hollow, emptied of light and will. What purpose is left to me now?

The heavy tread of footfalls eventually intrudes into my fog. I tense, hastily wiping the tear tracks from my face. But I remain seated with my back to the entrance - I cannot muster the strength to don any mask before strangers just yet.

A hesitation, then soft footfalls approach my sheltered corner. Whoever it is, they tread lightly as one wishing not to startle or impose. I hear the whisper of cloth as they settle on the flagstones a respectful distance away. For long moments we both simply breathe, two islands alone in the street.

At the scrape of footsteps, I tense. But the tread is too light for a guard. A dark silhouette limps closer, backlit by the distant setting sun.

"Fairy Godmother?" I rasp in surprise.

She settles beside me with a sigh. "I thought I might find you here, child."

I look away, fresh tears threatening. "I apologize for slipping away. I just...needed space."

She lays a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. "No apologies needed, my dear. I cannot imagine the pain this brings you."

I clench my fist. "I sacrificed everything for victory. But it wasn’t enough!"

Fairy Godmother rubs my back gently as I fight to compose myself. She doesn't fill the silence with false assurances or platitudes. Simply listening, sharing the sorrow. It steadies me like an anchor in a storm.

Finally I sit up straighter, the immediate anguish spent. Fairy Godmother squeezes my hand.

"What comes next feels an impossible weight," she says. "But remember, the future is not fixed. It can be reshaped."

I look at her questioningly. She takes a deep breath as though bracing herself.

"There are secrets I must share, pieces that may bring clarity. But you may see me differently after." Worry creases her brow.

I clasp her weathered hand. "Nothing could change how much you mean to me. Please."

She searches my face, then nods slowly. "I didn’t fully know, but I had suspected, that I may have been unintentionally involved in the king’s curse.”

I sit up straighter. She’s rarely spoken of her history.

“I was there the night it was cast,” she admits quietly. “A dear friend got me access to the secret gathering of mages after the coronation. We were told the new king was in mortal peril, cursed with something that would destroy everything. My friend thought my healing gifts could help.”

I listen intently as Fairy Godmother continues her tale. "When I arrived to the secret gathering, the king lay close to death, wracked with agony by the curse's dark magic. We were told only that it would kill him and any he touched. To stay far away. I found it odd that he was dressed entirely in gold as was the bed the king lay on, but I figured that was just part of the coronation. Showing his wealth and power… typical egotistical royalty stuff."

Her eyes take on a faraway look. "I have some skill with blessings, so I wove a counter-spell to negate the curse's lethality. I also granted him the gift to not need food or drink, to sustain him."

She focuses on me again. "Without knowing the curse's effects, I made one final addition - a catalyst that I hoped would allow him to eventually gain control of the magic inflicted on him."

I absorb this silently. Fairy Godmother had been there at the start, trying to help.

She continues, "I never learned what powers were invoked, or saw what artifact they used to bind as his catalyst. But after seeing his reaction to you trying to steal the crown...I began to suspect it was the implement chosen."

I sit up straighter in dawning realization.

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