Cursed Without A Crown

13 | The Beginning Stages of Failure

AT A SHORT DISTANCE ONCE MORE FROM ORODEN'S BORDER

IN IWUR'S NEST, THE FOREST OF FOREBODING

To the butcher with grace, Naomi couldn't feign supremacy any longer.

Needless to say, as soon as the atmosphere's darkness had consumed her entirely, she'd faltered on the last step. It could not be helped. Now, she was afraid, and she feared that Judah would catch on and call her out for being a coward after she'd just displayed a quantifiable amount of courage.

Still frozen on the remaining step and trying in vain to block out the vast gloom before her, Naomi's skin almost crawled inside out when Judah suddenly bumped into her in an unceremonious manner.

She quickly righted her stance, catching herself before she stumbled onto the ground. "Your Highness," she hissed beneath her breath, hand flying to her pounding bosom. "It would be helpful if you could control your body's weight for my sake."

Naomi felt his warm presence behind her as he noisily adjusted himself.

Goodness, could he be any less of a clodhopper?

"It would be helpful if your feet possessed any sort of motion at all," Judah's equally hushed tone cut through her thoughts, not sounding at all pleased that she still held a tinge of apprehension as she'd had in the coach. "It's only a harmless ground, Naomi. Just step on it!"

"Fine!"

Naomi tightened her grip on her skirts and took the final stride, ingesting further complaints.

You can do this. It's just dirt. Conquer the dirt. You can do it.

I can do it!

Once the tip of her left leather shoe touched the semi-hard surface, she immediately dashed towards the side of the coach and pressed her back against the cold wooden structure. The contact immediately made her shiver and Naomi found little solace in her actions, contrary to the reassurance she'd assumed she'd receive. Unease, unlike anything she'd ever felt before, tauntingly fingered the nape of her neck when the familiar faint whisper of her name invaded her ears once more.

That was the last straw. She'd had it with Judah's time-wasting. "Prince Judah!" she called out with a hint of desperation, much to her shame. "What's taking so long? Where's the fire?"

"I'm working on it," she heard his voice utter in agitation, as if she were the sole reason for his lack of performance. Which didn't make any sense!

That sole notion along with the hesitant ring to his words had doubt slithering into the young Shade's mind. Like a persistent clanking of warning bells, it gradually became clear what was happening.

Judah was procrastinating, it was plainly obvious. But why? How much time was needed to conjure a simple fire? It couldn't be that difficult and time-consuming. He couldn't be struggling to perform that meagre feat.

Right?

"Your Highness?" Naomi gingerly raised her voice above a whisper, uncertainty causing her to forgo her initial concerns about who or what might hear them. "Can you or can you not create a fire?"

"I said just give me a moment," he gritted out from somewhere in front of her before an inaudible chant followed. It sounded as though he was repeating a certain word over and over. Bune? Ban? Born? Frankly, she could care less, just as long as it yielded results.