21

Blood Boils Over

Parading through the castle after Jerrick leaves me grasping for air when we enter Palaena's royal library. My feet ache from the laced-up boots, a stark contrast to the slippers I am used to wearing. And when I catch the fluffy cushioned lounge in the far corner of the room, I groan in relief.

Floor to ceiling bookcases stretch down the vast hall, filled to the brim with books. Rows of more shelves are lined around the perimeter, and the smell of leather-bound parchment gives me a sense of peace.

I inch closer to plop into one of the many cushioned chairs, half a step away when Jerrick tugs my elbow and tosses a book at me.

I scowl. "Why are you handing me this?"

"Because…" Jerrick skims through a few texts before walking farther and gesturing to the books. "As I said earlier, we are starting small."

My mouth falls open, and I'm caught off guard. "But you said—"

"That I would train you, yes. But you don't understand everything, so we have to start from the beginning."

My anger boils over at his comment, annoyed that he thinks I have not done any research on my abilities. When I first came into my gifts, I enlisted priests to aid me in scouring Axidoria's royal library for scrolls, journals, and documents of each heir's inherited power. But none of them had magic like mine.

My response to Jerrick is on the tip of my tongue when I pause that train of thought, realizing what he says does make sense.

Did Palaena have a previous monarch with abilities like mine? Is that why we are here?

I remain quiet, fighting through the anger and resentment festering in my chest, hating how I need him more than he needs me.

When Jerrick adds the seventh book to the stack I carry, I stumble and catch myself.

"Any more books and I might collapse," I grumble.

"Think of it as strength training, then." Jerrick exhales and waves off my remark.

I want to fight his logic, but again, deep down, he is right. I could gain a little more muscle on my limbs.

He drags me along to ledgers and more books.

Tilting my head, I examine the titles I carry, but I trip and fall forward.

Books explode as I brace for impact, and I tumble into Jerrick. I cling to his tunic while my already sore feet tangle around each other as books drop on top of them.

"Fuck!" I yelp in pain, hopping.

Jerrick chuckles as I turn red, fumbling through my toe-piercing pain.

I tighten my grip on his tunic as I steady myself, my toes curling in my boots. Sweet Makers, that fucking hurt.

Jerrick helps me upright. "Are you alright?" He assesses me and the pile of books I dropped, then squats, picking up each one.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop them, I was trying to—" I stop and watch him in silence, guilt eating at me.

I bend down to help with the mess I made.

With the books gathered, we stand, and I tilt my head up to him.

His height seems worse in these damned boots, my short stature making my neck extend all the way back to meet his gaze.

My nose pinches a little at the tinge of sweat in the air, and my pulse quickens at being his sole focus.

His chest is close to mine, and the inkling I have to touch him again has me wiggling my fingers.

I turn toward the stacks of parchments, ledgers, and books, knowing the aroma of parchment will stifle Jerrick's scent.

He passes by, and I hate that my gaze tracks him.

Jerrick approaches the soft chairs, first placing the books in one and moving a short wooden table to rest between the lounge area. He separates them into various stacks, gesturing for me to sit.

I hesitate momentarily, doing as he says, loathing how I have to wait for his next move.

Jerrick smacks down the last book on its stack. "Here we have Palaena's ledgers on glamour magic and some paperwork and correspondence between your mother and my father." He points to each of the piles.

My brows furrow in confusion.

Jerrick's mention of my mother throws my intentions for the day off course. I feel underprepared and exposed, yet again, in his presence. And that pisses me off.

"Wait, why are we looking into glamour magic and letters between my mother and your father? I thought you said we were starting small for my magic?"

Jerrick sits in the other lounge chair, propping one of his boots on the corner of the short wooden table. "We will get to that. But you have to earn the right first."

I clench my fists on the armchair as I lean forward, the ability to stifle my rage fleeting the more I'm around this man.

"And how am I supposed to earn that right?" I demand, irritation thick in my voice.

He flicks a few strands of hair from his face before crossing his arms, his posture relaxed. "With both of us researching and finding how to break my curse first."

I roll my eyes. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

Jerrick glowers as I huff in amusement and disbelief.

But I can't prevent myself from laughing. I giggle and snort, each one growing more loud and more hysterical, the winding well of my thoughts finally reaching their tipping point.

I am truly fucked.

This man never had any intention of training me, and somehow, I find it hilarious.

"Oh, alright, Your Majesty. Let me see if I hear you correctly." I play along with this web of lies he has spun. "First, you come into my kingdom, threaten to kill those I care about, then kidnap me and almost cost me my life. Thankfully, I live and awake in a foreign kingdom, only to be told my mother had brokered a marriage agreement between us."

"Yes."

"But now, in the midst of it all, there is a curse?"

"Precisely," he confirms, not budging from his story.

I shake my head. This is unbelievable. Why am I even laughing?

Probably because you most definitely are going to Oblivion now, Tove.

I hold my stomach, my own thoughts running me into delirium.

Jerrick stands, grabbing a piece of parchment and extending it to me.

My chuckles stop when he shakes it. Suspiciously, I examine it, reluctant to reach for it. But curiosity has me grabbing it and scanning the contents. I make it past the first two sentences of the document before I stop.

Annoyance returns at the harsh reminder of our marriage arrangement. "I've already seen this," I tell him, vexed he is bringing this up again.

"Did you read it all, though?"

The decree itself is heavily detailed, lined with intricacies that were established between my mother and Jerrick's father.

I shake my head, rest the parchment on the table, and fold my arms, looking at Jerrick.

He points at the document. "That marriage decree was originally meant for your mother and my father, but when she came here to sign the agreement, our names were glamoured to replace theirs, along with a curse your mother cast to take effect after she killed herself."

Shock colder than winter prickles across my skin. A shooting pain erupts over my heart, sharper than any arrow or dagger piercing me.

Mother… killed herself? No. I refuse to believe it. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

"You're lying," I shake out, denying she would do that to herself—to me.

"I saw the entire thing happen."

Our gazes meet.

I can't stop the doubt in my mind from my own beliefs versus his story. This man has lied repeatedly, and as his eyes roam over me, I get the feeling he is still hiding something.

I can't stand it, and I look away. I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking over his words, unsure if this is something my mother would do.

Magic was always tricky, and abilities varied based on the skill of the user. Mother gained her powers when she was younger than Runa and me, allowing her plenty of time to learn the ups and downs of her gifts. But she didn't use it often. I know she didn't.

Jerrick explains, "When she signed the agreement, she broke something off of her necklace, drank it down, and collapsed in front of my father and me. It happened faster than we could react, and I held him back from going to her out of fear for his safety. But when my father ran to her—that was when my vision turned red."

I search Jerrick's expressionless face, all charm and dry wit tossed aside, replaced with something dark. His eyes are distant, glossy, as if memories of his past eat at him. Gone is the demeanor of Rick, the charming man with whom I danced, as well as King Jerrick, who dragged me into enemy territory.

Instead, the man in front of me is different.

Haunted.

Jerrick shudders and closes his eyes, releasing a long exhale before he continues, "I prowled after my father, not letting him get close to her. I tore him away from her, unable to stop my actions. The only thing running through my mind was this all-consuming need to kill him. My dagger was unsheathed faster than my father's magic, faster than the king's guard could follow. I dragged my blade across his throat without a second thought, and I did the same to my own men. As I took down the others and my father bled out, his magic was transferring to me.

"I blacked out in the aftermath of everything. And it wasn't until I awoke that I saw the decree reveal your mother's curse. My brother and I fabricated a story for the people while I fought these urges. Ever since then, I've spent the last five years unable to fully quench this thirst to kill. I've resorted to hunting and training my magic to help me with this…" He flexes and unflexes his hands, his tone void of all emotion. "Curse."

The word, again, lingers between us.

I focus on his hands as the silence hangs heavy in the aftermath of his admission. I remember admitting I felt the same during our travels.

But my mother could only do glamours. And even though I knew she blamed Palaena for Father's death, Jerrick's story still did not feel complete.

I meet Jerrick's eyes. "Wh-What did you do with my mother's body?"

I try to mask the tremble in my voice.

Jerrick swallows thickly, casting his gaze downward. "We held a small funeral for her and my father and burned her body, scattering both of their ashes."

My breath hitches, surprised from his response. Emotions clog in my throat, wishing I could have been there to light the pyre or be present for her burial to offer her a final goodbye.

I turn when Jerrick lifts his head, blinking away the tears threatening to fall, trying to remain indifferent, even though I want to crumble. Grief seeks to consume me, but I steer my thoughts, needing to understand my mother's intentions with Palaena.

She drafted a trade agreement to find proof of what happened to Father, not cause destruction herself.

Did Mother lie to us all?

Why would she curse Jerrick instead of his father? Especially if she believed King Ivan to be the one behind Father's death. Why a marriage agreement with the enemy?

Maybe this is Jerrick's hunger for power and he murdered my family and his father, and somehow, the action itself is what cursed him.

Still, I ask, "Is this why you—"

My words trickle away, almost asking if that was why he left on our wedding night. No, I could not voice that question, even though it sits at the forefront of my mind.

"Is this why you haven't been around?"

I am still convinced his story is fabricated, but he nods silently, allowing me more time to assess what he is telling me.

The tormented look in his eyes remains.

I shake my head, nothing making sense about the mother who raised me and the man facing me. "My mother wouldn't do something like that. She didn't know how to curse. She would never do something like that," I say with finality.

Mother wouldn't hurt a fly.

Jerrick contorts, reaching for a book near us. It's bound in leather and worn around the edges. He opens the book, skipping through some pages, and stopping to show me.

Records of Axidoria's criminals and their crimes are in this ledger. My eyes widen, and I yank the book away, reading the names of recorded murderers, rapists, thieves, and more.

My heart stops when I read over sentences dealt.

Those captured were cursed with a variety of punishments. Each name noted their curse, the duration of their punishment, and who performed the curse. Every one was recorded as cast by my mother. The bottom of each record was signed by my parents, an Alorian priest, and my parents' advisors.

"H-How did you get this?" I rasped as I filter through the logs.

How have I never seen this before?

"I have my methods."

Meaning he stole it or paid someone to steal it.

I rub at my chest as I read on. My mother and father never showed me this side of ruling. Looking through these records, one would assume my parents were cruel and evil.

How could the royal advisors agree with this and not a battle?

I knew every kingdom had its own variety of laws and orders, but I was told any crimes were managed by sentencing them to be monitored and tracked their service to the kingdom. It's how Niko and I have handled any of the criminals since I've stepped into this role.

Nothing like this.

Did Mother glamour this from me? From the kingdom?

But this doesn't touch on the marriage agreement created by my mother. These documents still do not prove why Jerrick is cursed.

"Why you and not your father?" I ask and put the book back.

His story still does not make sense. I've stumped and spoiled his tale from winning me over, and I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms in victory.

Jerrick gestures to the varying stacks of paperwork and ledgers related to magic and correspondence between my mother and his father, pulling the marriage arrangement again to give to me, guiding me to a specific section.

I roll my eyes at the constant reference to it, but if there is any truth behind his claims, I would need to read this thoroughly. Eventually.

Rubbing the parchment in my hands, I trail a finger over lettering that looks squished in between the decree, marked in a darker ink. Dry flakes of red brush off the page, sticking to my fingertips.

Is this… blood?

I swallow thickly and read the text.

Ivan, oh Ivan, how you've betrayed me,

killing my love 'cause you were consumed by jealousy.

Ruling two kingdoms filled your heart with greed,

As punishment for your actions,

I've placed a curse on your legacy.

Your kin will become the bringer of death,

turning on you first when I draw my last breath.

You'll be forced to watch from beyond the grave,

Knowing your kingdom is failing

due to the choices you've made.

Endless questions run rampant in my mind. I reread the cursed text, working through each line, seeking and hoping for an answer or an explanation. I'm only left with more confusion.

There is no proof of what happened to my father, just my mother's accusations against an old lover and extracting her revenge.

Mother was not in the right state of mind after Father, but she never was this cruel. She raised me with empathy, teaching me to show mercy to our people, to our neighboring kingdoms.

I can't shake the impression of something missing from all of this.

What is and isn't the trick?

Jerrick's voice chimes into my thoughts, pulling me away from falling into a deep, dark pit. "I was present at all my father's meetings, and not once were there any plans for the death of your fath—"

I flash a look, warning him he is on thin ice.

My heart and mind are being torn apart, unsure of what to believe.

"Your father could have hidden that from you," I sneer, trying to gain semblance over something.

But Jerrick shakes his head. "I've spent the last five years combing through everything of his investigating this. I've hunted to quench this need to kill, trained my magic to help me, and done everything in my power to find a way around this curse, to avoid marrying you and involving you."

I don't understand why he kept this decree to himself.

Maybe if he had come to Axidoria, the Makers wouldn't have punished me with all these years of grief. Maybe the Makers wouldn't have punished me with the inability to control my powers.

I turn on him with hatred oozing and spewing from my tongue. "Why?"

"Because I didn't want to associate with the daughter of the woman who put a curse on me and had me kill my own father!"

I lurch back from the booming anger in Jerrick's voice.

The rage and darkness surround him—surround us. But his words carve deep into my soul, words I have already carved for myself.

Fear mixed with sympathy is dangerous, especially when it is for a man who is my enemy—for a man who is a monster.

Just like you, Tove. Your mother made him a monster, and her death made you one.

I plunge my empathy down as Jerrick masks his own dark fury, brushing hair away from his face as his voice levels.

"And I truly don't know what happened to your father. Regardless of how obsessed my father was with your mother, I've never found any evidence of my father arranging the disappearance or death of yours."

Just because Jerrick didn't find any evidence doesn't mean there isn't any.

Did Mother do all of this for Father? Could she really cast curses?

His words halt my brewing questions. "What do you mean obsessed?"

"They were involved before becoming rulers, and your mother broke it off, knowing they wouldn't have a future together. And that was all I knew about your mother until she came to Palaena after your father had disappeared, offering my father the one thing he wanted. Marriage. She believed her husband died during his travels, and she drafted this marriage agreement, claiming it as fate for the two of them to finally be together.

"She made sure I was there as a witness to such a decree, knowing the magnitude of joining two kingdoms. My father was obsessed and infatuated with your mother and the idea of ruling two kingdoms. He agreed without a second thought. Jonas and I tried for weeks leading up to her arrival, begging him to reconsider, and we both were reprimanded for speaking against our king."

He gestures to the pink scar on the side of his face, and my mouth falls. One of the first questions I ever asked him finally answered.

"I promised I would answer all of your questions."

"Y-Your father did that to you?" I ask, heartbroken that a parent could do such a thing.

Jerrick shrugs, unbothered and detached from his father's cruelty. "That and more. But your mother ensured his debt came due."

I want to pity and sympathize with him, but I still can't believe everything he is saying. I'd done nothing to earn this vulnerability, and I am tired of being manipulated.

This has to be of his own doing.

I would not fall for another one of his tricks. I refuse to let him diminish all faith and trust I have in my mother.

"Who is to say this so-called curse isn't your own magic?" I challenge.

"It's not."

"You are full of shit."

My uncertainty about his abilities has drifted into my thoughts more often than I would care to admit, and this is the perfect opportunity to learn if he is a threat or a really good liar.

His eyes lock on mine, and a crooked grin appears, sending heat to blossom within my chest.

My body's internal temperature shoots up, and a bead of sweat forms along my brow. Despite the inferno in my body, I study him intently, knowing I need this information.

I will stare him down until he fesses up about his abilities.

If I know who I am up against, it will make or break the notion of returning home.

I grip the sides of my armchair, desperate to fan myself to cool down. It feels as if my blood could drain out of every pore in my body.

I plead for my gifts to surface, if only to grant me a reprieve from my veins feeling as if they were on fire. But my magic is silent, nothing flickering in my chest.

My internal battle fights on while I stare at Jerrick, his grin growing wider.

He cocks his head. "Feeling warm over there, Frostbite?"

"That's none of your concern," I grind out, ignoring his quip and that stupid, stupid, question.

Jerrick leans away, breaking our stare, and I slump from its state of fire, feeling weighed down from the sudden shift. He flicks his wrist around, and I watch in confusion.

He examines his fingernails. "It seems it would be my concern, being as I was the one that caused it."

My mouth slackens. I think through the stories of my ancestor's abilities. None of them matched up with the gut feeling I had about the Maker who granted Jerrick his power.

It has never happened before.

"That's impossible."

Jerrick's haunted eyes I saw mere moments ago are gone, replaced by a cunning, vicious grin.

"I can manipulate your blood, Frostbite."