The Royal Curse

Eight - Starry Voices

Ashe Knightley

Dealing with silence was something I grew accustomed to over the years, but coming from Valarya was something else entirely.

I should've felt guilty for saying what I did. Staring at her now, her body gently swaying from the creaking of the waves. Not to mention my already existing sea sickness. Maybe all of this wouldn't be in vain; I could throw my father off the Entorrean throne and hand it down to Kace while I finished whatever it was I was doing now.

What was I doing? For years I had been looking through the Saints' and Gods' information, trying to link them all to the dark faes. My progress was minimal. The only real progress was finding out Valarya was the Cadice descendent, but could that help anything?

Nausea flooded my system. I scrambled up from my cot and navigated my way to the deck, doing my best to not slam into the walls. What kind of waves had the strength of an earthquake?

My body collided with a stack of crates. Saints, what kind of sea storm was this?

Adjusting myself again, I made my way to the deck. Valarya was a heavy sleeper, so she'd probably somehow sleep through this—whatever this was.

"Rysdan, wake up," I whispered into his room.

He groaned, flipping in his bedroll. "Who's dying now?" Rysdan muttered into his pillow.

"Fine, stay asleep." I clicked his door shut and continued to the deck. The darkness of the staircase grew, only making my heart race more. Swallowing, I took a firm step up the darkness.

I was almost at the top before I stumbled down all the way down the stairs, breaking the stack of crates. Footsteps echoed from the hall I came through. As I jerked back up, I caught sight of a female silhouette.

"Val?"

"Ashe? You're awake?" Relief washed over me once I heard her voice. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her behind me as we went up the stairs. "What's going on?" she asked.

"A storm."

"We'll be okay, right?"

I tightened my grip on her. "Of course," I whispered. The reassurance in my voice probably wasn't the strongest, because as we finally got to the top of the stairs, she held on harder to my arm. "It's all right. Just a sea storm."

"I got scared you left," she admitted, "since I woke up and didn't see you in the room."

I leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's going to take a lot more than a sea storm to leave you."

"How reassuring," she said, nudging me to the side. We slowly paced around the deck, watching the sea water mildly splash overboard. "I don't feel well."

"Sea sickness?" I asked.

She shook her head, resting her side to mine. "I don't think so. I don't think... Ashe, something's really wrong. I've been feeling like this for days."

My heart sunk as I glanced down at her. We had been safe whenever we... She couldn't possibly be—

"I'm not pregnant," she reassured. Her grip was looser on my arm as she said, "Ashe."