A Contractual Marriage

Ginevra stared at Taren. "You want me?"

Taren's hard blue eyes locked with hers. "I want you to remove the curse your grandmother, Francesca Victoria Scaraveggi, the great enchantress of Esteria, placed on me."

"A curse? My grandmother? On you?" Ginevra's head spun, repeating words as if they would make more sense if she heard them from her own mouth.

"So, you really don't know anything," he confirmed. Something flickered in his eyes momentarily.

"My grandmother dedicated her life to healing others. Why would she place a curse on you?" Ginevra countered.

He smiled at her sardonically, leaning back on his arms. "Why not? Not many families consider the Maldoni an ally."

"So, the reason you married me was to break this…curse?" Ginevra asked, more so because she wanted to hear herself say it.

Taren raised an eyebrow. "This marriage is transactional - a contract, if you will. You married me for the political and financial security that would come from being associated with the Maldoni name."

Ginevra bit her lip. It's true. I was only thinking about my father's and my safety.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't know the first thing about using energy, let alone breaking curses. It was a part of her life…she kept hidden from me and the rest of the family." Ginevra trailed off at the end, as she stared off into the darkness of the room.

"It doesn't matter. You are the only living direct descendent of your grandmother. Only someone who shares her blood can remove it."

Ginevra looked up, meeting his gaze. He was hard to read, but his eyes and the tone of his voice held conviction.

A man whose land and influence rival that of an entire kingdom, perhaps even more. He is cold and aloof and obedience is only something he is used to from everyone. How can such a powerful man be asking something of me? If I refuse…what will you do? Where am I going to go?

Even if her grandmother had a good reason for cursing him, did she have a choice? She had no bargaining power in this relationship. If she refused, he could easily lock her up until she gave in. He could destroy the social standing of the Scaraveggi with a single word, disgracing them from ever showing themselves in any public circle. Or worse, he could even bring her father in as a bargaining chip. She wouldn't put it past the Maldoni; the thought alone was enough to send a cold shiver down her back.

"I agree. I will help break this curse. But I told you, I don't know anything about working with energy."

Even though her voice was shaky, her gaze was direct, sharp with resolve as it met his. It caught him off guard.

"A witch-doctor will come in for a consultation." Even though she had just agreed to help him, his tone was as cold as before, betraying no emotion.

Ginevra furrowed her brow. "What's the curse…she placed on you?"

The question brought on a marked change in his face; his lips set into one thin, firm line as he answered. "I'm unable to speak of it. Besides, it's irrelevant. No part of the curse would impact you."

Ginevra sprang up on her knees on the bed, finally meeting him at eye level.

"In other words, you're basically saying that it has nothing to do with me, and I should mind my own business? I'm your wife." Ginevra was momentarily taken aback by her own words. That's the first time I said it out loud…

If the curse had a vow of silence, there was really nothing she could do, but his words still bothered her.

To tell her would be impossible, even if I was at liberty to do so. Taren maintained his calm composure, raising an eyebrow. "Why does it make a difference to you?"

Why does it make a difference to me? Agh, I don't care about him or what he does with himself and yet…

"Because, if we're to be husband and wife, we need to learn to trust each other. And that means being honest with one another."

Taren leaned in towards her, as if to tease her as Ginevra slowly tilted back to maintain a distance between them.

"And…is there something you want to tell me in return, Ginevra?"

Does he still not believe I don't know anything? Ginevra held his gaze. He didn't wait for an answer, brushing his hand over the coverlet as he stood up.

"It's late. You should get some sleep." The tone of his voice made it almost sound like a command.

Ginevra didn't move, looking down at her lap. "Wait."

Taren turned to her, eyebrow raised.

"Our marital duties," Ginevra blinked, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment too long.

"I'm not going to divorce you. The only binding contract I recognize is that of the curse. The law and all the rest are inconsequential." Ginevra let out a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding in, prompting Taren to let out a low chuckle. She lifted her head in surprise, but he was facing away from the window so she couldn't make out his expression.

Ginevra shut the adjoining door between their bedrooms shut, her head spinning.

A curse.

Witchcraft and magic were things I stayed away from

My grandmother kept them away from me for a reason.

They are powerful, but they attract enemies and danger like fleas.

How…did things end up like this?

****

Later that night…

Taren jolted up in bed. The soft light of the moon cast a milky glow on the still and silent room, in sharp contrast to his hot body as his dream receded into the shadows, lurking beyond conscious sight.

In his dream, he was a young boy again, standing in a field shrouded with mist. Duke Tetrem di Maldoni's broad frame cast a wide shadow around him, accentuated by the thick armor and the fur cloak cast over his shoulder, bristling in the winter wind as he stood over his son.

Taren knelt on one knee, his right hand, holding the end of the arrow, brushing his temple. "Shoot!" Tetrem cried behind him.

The mist suddenly started to grow thicker and thicker. Taren squinted, covering his mouth with his arm as red flames billowed up around him, trapping him in a circle along with three hundred other men. Everything was shrouded with thick gray smoke, a deadly mist that cast each man into his own solitary world. Around him, cries for help rang out, some depleted and cut short by coughing, others strangled, carrying the last bit of oxygen which remained in their lungs. Taren grit his teeth, wrapping his arm around his chest while keeping the other pressed against his mouth as he pulled himself closer to the center, away from the circle of fire which encroached on them like a demon.

Each man forsakes his own life, Taren.

You either kill, or are killed. Crush or are crushed. Whenever you hesitate, remember that there is always someone who will not. Someone who will take advantage. You cannot afford to lose an opportunity to take advantage. That is the price to preserve the Maldoni. Learn to be ruthless and you will find that you can sleep easily at night.

A man came running forward through the smoke, his eyes stricken red as if he had emerged from the very gates of hell itself.

"It's going to explode!" he cried as he hobbled past Taren, who continued to gaze past the man, his eyes narrowing to mere slits as realization dawned on him like a drop of ink in water. An icy chill gripped his heart. I don't want to die. He heard his name. He twisted around, only to meet a white wall of smoke. A dark shadow, like a storm cloud, suddenly passed over him, its owner breaking through the smoke moments after. The black stallion neighed as it flew through the air, kicking its muscled legs against the smoke, momentarily clearing pockets of it away. An arm reached out to him through the smoke, the palm open, fingers straining forward. You idiot. But he knew it was too late. He reached out to clasp the hand, just as a deafening sound shattered the commotion and everything was cast into a suffocating darkness.

Taren thrust a fist against the bed.

"You idiot. Why did you do it? Why?"