The elf king was hesitant at first, disinterested in a human until he saw me. Until he sensed I found him distasteful. Until he sensed I was a challenge.
He demanded I sing, my voice something known between kingdoms, but I refused. My voice was for those I loved. And I would not love this king.
That is when my fate was sealed.
Now, the royal contingent of the elf horde is coming, and it is arranged that I will marry their king as his sixth bride, tying our two kingdoms together and avoiding certain ruin.
Some say that the elf king is the most handsome man to ever live, that in his thousand years of life, he’s only grown more masculine and powerful. Some of my maids look at me with envy for what is sure to be an enthusiastic wedding night. At least on his part. Elves are known for their stamina, after all. The terms of our marriage are simple. I allow him into my bed as he pleases until I produce a child, and he protects our land and our people.
How can I not give up this one small part of myself for such a great and necessary prize?
Images of the last time I saw Prince Rian barrel though that unanswerable question. My breathing becomes unsteady as I imagine what our wedding night would have been like. But I shake them away before any tears can come.
“Don’t fret,” I tell Zacharia, forcing a smile. “I will do what fate demands. There will be no war. I will not leave our kingdom to ruin.”
But, I will not love him. Never. I will be stoic, indifferent and eventually, swallowed by the hatred of the curse. And the life it’s forced upon me.
My heart almost breaks, my voice faltering.
We spend some more minutes together, talking over old times. I hum a song for him, the best I can do trapped inside the castle.
I think Zacharia feels the need to remember how things were before all this, when my father was still alive and I was little more than a child. He doted on me, even then, and I remember those days with fondness.
But the kingdom needs him, even now. How long does he have? Months? Weeks? Mere days?
Perhaps this is the last time I’ll see him.
Nevertheless, he has to go, and I follow him to the door of the castle, my maids bustling along behind me with their candelabras, making certain I’m never without their light. I kiss him on the cheek, and then with the help of his servant, he’s gone.
And I’m again looking at the tree line, sure I will never see Rian again.
I gasp as relief and excitement flood through me.
He is there. Somewhere under the darkness of the foliage. I know it. I want to go to him. The draw right now is as powerful as it’s ever been. I don’t see him, but I feel him. I need to feel the grip of his powerful hands, see the set of his thick jaw.
I’ve imagined how he looks now. I’ve seen pictures of the ancient orcs in books and paintings. Most humans find them monstrous, ugly, but that was never my thought. More so now, knowing Rian is the soul behind the shell, there would be nothing unattractive about him, even in his cursed orc form.
With sudden abandon, I step forward. I hear the screams of my maids, but I don’t care. My need for him is greater than my will to live. Yes, I promised to marry the elf king, but how can I? Nothing makes sense. My mind is tangled, in ruin like the kingdom will be.
This curse be damned.
Pain shoots through my foot the moment it is outside the castle walls into the darkness. I cry out, but grit my teeth, forcing myself forward even as black ice spreads up my ankle, visible beneath the hem of my dress.
“My lady!” Meina is there in an instant, grasping my shoulder and pulling me back.
I fall into her arms, sobbing, shaking my head. “No. Let me go, please. I can’t stand it any longer.”
She doesn’t reply. She simply holds me, as I sob, knowing I will not leave the kingdom in peril. She sits with me until I swallow my sorrow, stroking my hair and shushing me even as her own tears fall onto my cheeks to meet mine.
I hiss in pain as Meina examines my bare foot, tutting and shaking her head.
“You’re very lucky not to lose it. I have no idea how it’s healing so fast.”
I laugh mirthlessly. “The curse, of course. If I lost my leg, perhaps I could break the spell by throwing my frozen foot beyond the castle’s candlelight and set foot outside. Wait, that’s an idea…”
“My lady! No. Promise me you won’t think such things,” she says, sounding unconvinced. “Please don’t try it.”