The Cursed

Chapter Thirty Six

Lilura

I lean against the wall, my memories still streaming in front of me.

What happened to the prisoner who escaped? I didn't get killed. How, with all my memories, are there still gaps? How do I not know everything the Queen did to me. I deserve to know before she dies.

I catch my breath and slow my beating heart. When I've composed myself, I stoop down to a guard collapsed at my feet. There's a sword with a golden hilt in which, a ruby is encased. I pull it out of the guard's belt and follow the sins upstairs. The Queen deserves to die upon the sword of those sworn to protect her.

At the top of the stairs, there's a young man, around my age. His dark hair flops over from where it was previously stuck into place with gel. A royal. His eyes shine in recognition when they meet mine. He immediately drops to his knees. Instinctively, I tuck the sword under his chin, resting the blade on his neck. He looks up at me.

"Lilura? You're alive," he breathes out. His eyes, wide.

"Naturally. I can't be killed easily, but I fail to recognize you," I respond.

"James. A fellow prisoner in the filth with you," he says.

"No. You sound nothing like the prisoner." I press the sword against his throat, a small droplet of blood rolls down his neck and stains his white shirt.

"Lack if water will do wonders to ones voice." He then has the audacity to chuckle.

"Hands. Show me yours," I spit. He raises them from his knees. His long fingers adorned with golden rings.

"See? You gave me a glamour to escape. I made it, Lilura. I got out. You were being tortured when they let me out, or i would've said goodbye. I owe you my life. I went to the nearest town a todo the tavern of the Queen. Then she got wind of what I did, her guards collected me," he says. I press the sword against his neck more. He gasps and squeaks.

"You're lying. You would be dead."

"You should be too. She told me you would die in her dungeon. What happened?" I hesitate. I can't be sure this isn't a cruel trick of the Queen's. I wave my hand over the boy, reversing his appearance, so it matches the one he would've had when we were locked in the dungeon. His skin pales and tightens against his bones. His eyes grow dimmer, his hair greasier and thinner. His fingers grow thinner too, his nails sharpen and lengthen.

"Speak," I bark out the order.

"What did you do," he says. And, shockingly it matches the one of the prisoner. I wave my hand over him. He returns to his current appearance.

I dare not remove the sword form his throat. The sins will have the Queen occupied, while I deal with him. How did he live if the Queen knew he betrayed her? He owes her, and what would he do if he knew I am going to kill the one who gave him clothes and place in the castle?

"Tell me everything. How are you alive?"
He swallows, staring at me, clearly seeing I am not the same Lilura he knew in the dungeon.

"I traded information for your life and mine. It was valuable enough to spare me and convince the Queen to let you live. She said she did, but I never knew if she truly did. But you're here, alive and well. What happened to you? How did you get out? What of Everette? Did you find him again? Why are you here?" There's lies in his story. My magic perks up with the darkness spewing from his lips. Yet there's truth still.

"You don't get to ask questions. By the sound of your story I have you to blame. The Queen stole me memories from me and released me. Everette found me, but I didn't know who he was. He knew his mother was to blame, but didn't tell me. I trained under a witch, and then reversed the curse of the Queen. I remembered everything-" almost. "I killed Everette for keeping my life from me. I could've undone the curse if I knew who cast it much quicker. He betrayed my trust and me. I am here to make the Queen pay for what she did to me."

Through my story, the boy's eyes widen.

"I never said she should curse you. I promise I never knew," stammers the boy. I relax the sword and let it fall to my side. He's telling the truth. I owe him my life, and yet again the Queen seems to be the cause of my problems. "Thank you." He hold his neck, trying to stop the blood that still dribbles from the wound.

"Leave. Now. The Queen will pay for her crimes against you." I stare at the boy. He's frozen, a hand against his neck. The other trying to tear a strip of fabric off his shirt to tie around his neck to stop the bleeding.

"Wait. You can't," he whispers.

"Why not?" I spit through gritted teeth. The nerve to tell me not to punish the cause of my pain.

"She's my mother." We both freeze, staring at each other.

"That's why-"

"I was spared and could bargain for your life. She didn't know."

"And that's why she let me live. To torture Everette, make him come to the throne, an incitement to make him take the throne from her. But she didn't press him, because-"

"He wasn't the only option. There was me. She loves us, and I convinced her to not torture Everette with the pain of your death. He could live a normal life, but maybe still go to take the throne. But if he failed, I would fill his shoes," he says, interrupting my musings. There's a living heir to the throne. A throne I mean to take.

But this boy, I owe him. My life. My heart itches to let him live, to run away from the bloodshed. He could come back and try to steal the crown. It would be easier to kill him now, with no witnesses rather than as Queen.

"I'm sorry," I whisper before a swoosh of my sword cutting through the air then cutting through the boy's neck. His head falls off and tumbled down the gold stairs, leaving a bloody stream in its wake. The boy's body falls to the ground in a thud, blood oozing onto the woven rug.

I step over another soul that had to perish, so I may be Queen and be satisfied.