Page 19 of The Royal Curse

“All right,” Andreas said softly. His voice dipped into an even deeper register as he added, “Let me help you to bed, if nothing else, Your Highness.”

Any protest was beyond me. I nodded, more of a droop against his chest than anything. He shuffled me across the room and more or less just let me tip over onto the bed, the ropes creaking beneath me and the mattress leaping up to catch me. My cheek hit the pillow, and I sank down and down.

I was out before I even heard him leave the room.

Andreas and I returned to the inn around teatime, just as more freezing rain began to patter down. He’d woken me a little bit past noon by sending a maid to my room with coffee and pastries, a choice I thoroughly approved in every possible way.

We hadn’t bothered taking out the horses, simply walking the ten minutes to Doctor Serrano’s practice, and the visit had been short. The doctor himself had been out attending a birth. I’d asked his young assistant for advice and had been referred to a magical apothecary a few streets over; fifteen minutes later, Andreas and I were on our way back, and I had a small paper-wrapped packet of bottles, each one a different type of mild sedative or reliever of pain.

I could only pray one or more of them would be enough to get me through. Though I’d read about them, I’d never used drugs to dull the effects before. I’d always taken a suppressing potion instead. And when my caretakers had been learning how to dose me appropriately with that, they couldn’t risk mixing it with anything else. Besides which, strong drugs like these could kill a man if used too frequently or in great quantities. In all ways, this would be a new kind of experiment. Oh, what joy.

The wet and cold had the advantage of being at least a little bracing, the wind whipping some sensation into my face and the walk making blood flow through my stiff limbs.

I had about three hours, probably, before I collapsed into a sweaty, moaning mess.

Denial had hit me hard, though. In the light of day, with the bustle of a busy town all around me, my situation didn’t seem real. As we turned into the inn’s small courtyard, one of the stable boys jogged past us, whistling and smiling despite how cold and damp he looked. He called out a friendly greeting to someone passing by driving a mule and a wagon. The shops across the street had their doors closed against the weather, but their windows were lit and bells jangled as people went in and out.

All of them had normal lives, daily activities, errands to run. They’d be going home shortly, shaking out their coats and stamping off their boots and stirring up the fire, settling down for a quiet evening.

At that moment I could almost feel like one of them, stepping into the inn with my parcel under my arm and anticipating a hot cup of tea.

That sensation of pleasant normality sat uneasily on top of the tight knot in the pit of my stomach, and it dissipated completely once the door of my room shut behind us and Andreas said, without preamble, “How long do you have? And what’s going to happen, exactly? I need to know, Your Highness. No more avoiding the question.”

Andreas leaned back against the door, one ankle propped against the other and arms crossed. That particular pose cast his tall, lean body, wide shoulders, and heavy biceps into sharp relief. Did he do it on purpose? Or could he possibly be unaware of how he looked? Had he intended to block my only means of escape from a conversation I desperately didn’t want to have?

To delay just a few moments longer, I busied myself with setting the package on the table, undoing the string, and taking out the bottles, lining them up neatly in a row.

When I looked up I found Andreas’s eyes fixed on me and his jaw set. He hadn’t so much as twitched, and he had the air of a man who could maintain his current position for the foreseeable future, outwaiting any stalling tactics I might attempt to employ.

Well, he’d done a lot of guard duty. He probably could.

Damn it.

I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat.

No choice. “I assume you already know that my magic’s cursed. That without the potion, or, or other means, it eats me alive from the inside.”

“I know what everyone knows, and I’ve also read anything I could find in the palace library,” he said. The expression on my face must have told him what I thought clearly enough, because he quirked a half-smile and said, “Yes, I spend time reading, and yes, I take my job seriously. I didn’t think I could protect you unless I knew what I was dealing with. So I’m aware your magic will kill you if it’s left uncontrolled, and I know it hurts like hell. But I’m not sure about the timing or the details. The Temple texts were all about Ennolu and Dromos squabbling over who’s more powerful, and everything else was incredibly vague.”

“Most of the really useful books on the topic are in my rooms, actually, not the main library. You should’ve asked me.” My voice came out all soft and husky. He’d truly researched my condition. No one outside of my family, or those whose occupation it was to know, like mages and physicians, had ever bothered to try to understand. No friends. No lovers. No one but Andreas.

His cheek dimpled as his smile widened. “So you could’ve stonewalled me like you’re doing now, Your Highness? I’m sure that would’ve been extremely helpful.”

“You—fuck you,” I sputtered, and Andreas laughed, head tipped back against the door, eyes half-lidded and still intently focused on my face. An amused predator. I shivered a little.

Damn it to hell, didn’t he understand how incredibly difficult this was for me? That this shame, this weakness, had shaped my entire life, made me the lonely and frankly unhappy man I was?

“I’m not stonewalling you. I’m—fuck it.” I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my strength. Seriously, fuck it. He wanted to know? I’d damn well tell him. “All right. Fine. In an hour, maybe a little more, I’ll double over in agony when all my muscles start to cramp. I’ll get shooting pains along every one of my bones, and my veins will pulse. My body will heat up. And I’ll get this ache—”

That was it. No more words were coming out. My tongue simply wouldn’t move.

“Tell me,” Andreas said. And he used that voice of his, the one he brought out when he had to direct his subordinates, when an emergency situation required absolute command. “Whatever it is, say it, Your Highness.”

His eyes gleamed coppery in the pale light through the window behind me. I couldn’t look away from them.

And I couldn’t resist him, either.

“Inside me,” I whispered. “Inside, where—I need it. Someone. Need to be—you know what dawn mages need if they don’t have a potion for it, Andreas!”

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