Cursed Queen

By J A Fleming

Desperation has consequences.

Queen Peydra is in the hole, an unpleasant dark space in a Saiurian dungeon, thinking she may escape the Curse of Royalty only to end her days on foreign execution grounds.

Reeling after Anthony reveals his true identity, Queen Peydra’s recklessness initiates a string of events she quickly loses control of. And following a candid conversation with Anthony after their surprising liberation, she finds herself decidedly uncomfortable as she further processes who he is and what that could mean for her determination to face the curse. Her feelings for him begin to interfere with her ultimate goal – to defeat the curse no matter the cost. Less than a year remains while she attempts to harden her heart and desperately clings to a belief that the end of Leonatus’ bloodline means the end of the Protection Dictum in Drayden, and ultimately, hope for those who will come after.

In her determination to walk through the valley of death, she concocts an elaborate ruse to protect herself – both from the council’s desires and from her own. With the initiation of her ruse, she begins to self destruct and further alienates her allies who are working to save her from the curse.

Will she sacrifice herself and trust High Council to honor what’s written in the Books of Law or will she grasp at any opportunity to escape once the time nears? What will Anthony and her allies do? Will she surrender and trust Maker as she drinks from the poisoned cup?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J A Fleming
• Release date: Aug 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005286453

J A Fleming

JA Fleming makes her home in southern Louisiana. With a laugh, she describes herself as a lily– white redneck southern woman.A teller of stories and a heroine of elaborate imaginary games when she was a child, Fleming began to put stories on paper in middle school. She started by transcribing tales her father wove for her and her sisters while on long car rides – tales that were scary but with “funny” endings. When she was sixteen she wrote the first lines of what would become the debut series she’d share with the reading world, Curse of Royalty.A few of Fleming’s favorite authors: Laura Lond, Chris Fabry, Louis L’Amour, Jerry B. Jenkins, Timothy Gautreaux, Jane Austin, Ted Dekker, JRR Tolkien, Frank Peretti, CS Lewis.

Book preview

The Hole

Peydra couldn’t tell if she had her eyes open or closed. She’d been in what they called the hole for what she imagined being two days. The only visitors she received were a few foraging rats and a thin servant who brought a spoon-less bowl of soupy gruel and a cup of water. She’d drank the water before it could freeze, but wasn’t quite desperate enough to consume the gruel, especially not while the echoes of men screaming terrorized her. Tortured, it seemed, not for information, but for sport.

Even though she rarely regretted the decision she made to execute King Kalan for the war he had attempted to bring upon Drayden, she often regretted her decision to listen to the unwise council she’d received about having his son brought to witness his father’s death. It suddenly occurred to her that the ten year anniversary of that day would soon be upon them. King Falon was a boy no longer at twenty-five and was attempting to step out of his father’s shadow. Kalan had been notorious for his cruelty, but his son had quickly surpassed his father with his creativity.

Peydra squeezed her back tight into a corner of the small room. She pulled her stained skirts closer about her knees as she squatted there, unwilling to sit on the floor of the cell. She hoped that by now, since she’d not arrived back at the fortress in the time frame they’d discussed, that her men would be gathering and coming for her, but she worried about her attendants and guards.

Icy threads of fear laced about her and in her desperation, her heart cried out to the Maker for rescue, for the deliverance of her people from the cruelty of Saiurian rule and for the safety of the men she’d brought with her. Would her mother’s God listen to her pleas even though she had given Him little thought after Bessie had gone back home? Kaphier mentioned often that the Maker’s eye was on those who sought Him. Could it be true? What did it mean to seek a God who actually existed instead of looking at a statue or at a handful of gold hoping those inanimate things could provide answers, safety, purpose?

She rested her forehead against her crossed arms and tried not to dwell on how badly Gaius and Anthony were beaten after they’d all been ushered from the throne room. And Josephus... A tear leaked from her eye. She swiped it against her shoulder. She had counted eight different voices echoing in the blackness. Voices she could never silence in her mind. Peydra almost expected Anthony’s voice to be the next she would hear coming from the torture chambers. Her anger over their last conversation felt foolish considering her concern for him. Would he survive? If his brother was also being held somewhere in the dungeon… she worried about the future of their kingdom, but that thought faded quickly as she remembered Anthony’s hurt expression when she dismissed him at the fortress.

She allowed herself a groan. He finally told her who he was, and she kicked him for it. But what was she to think? Why wouldn’t he have told her who he was from the beginning? What drove him away from home to live like a pauper? If his brother died in the dungeon, would he have to go home? That was if Saiur ever released any of them.

Feeling tears sting the corners of her eyes again, she bit her lip to stop their flow, believing tears would dissolve her ability to stay resolute in the face of her tormentor. To admit her immediate peril was no new thing. Stubborn courage rose within her as she reminded herself that she had survived many dangers and had lived under the threat of death since childhood. A smile brightened her face when she considered that perhaps what her mother had said was true: the Maker could hear her, even in that dark place. But was she worth saving?

•

King Falon pushed a woman from his lap and leveled a glare at Erik’s intrusion. But Erik ignored the threat. You put her in the hole?

What do you care? Falon eased back in his cushioned seat, his eyes following the woman as she sashayed out of the room.

She’s a pebble in my shoe, but she’s still valuable. Do you really think you can rule Drayden, any of Drayden, without her cooperation?

With a face like stone, Falon said, That woman will get what she deserves.

Erik held his tongue, unsure how to give Falon the revenge he wanted and salvage his own plan. If you will allow, I’ll marry her. Once I’m on the throne, we can negotiate how much of northern Drayden you want.

Falon’s lip lifted in a sneer. Why would I do that? I can rule it all now if I get rid of her.

Surely you don’t believe what my father has been telling you. He has no intentions of letting you reign in a place he’s labored to create for himself.

Falon stood abruptly, and Erik clamped his lips.

Drilling Erik with a stare, Falon said, Tell me what you know.

I know him. Erik rested his hand on the hilt of his father’s crooked dagger. He’s not in the business of orchestrating events to benefit anything but his own agenda. He already has your mother’s ear. Erik paused and stared at the king. You’re playing right into his hands and you cannot see it for the manipulation it is.

Red rose above Falon’s collar. He rang for a messenger and when the boy appeared – Bring Malpholous! – then paced like a caged scorpion cat.

.2.

Execution Grounds

As they processed forward to the cliff face, the wind cut through her. Seeing the spectators and the king, Peydra’s back stiffened. King Falon smirked while he watched from his throne-like platform. The crowd quieted once they forced Peydra to stand at the edge of the precipice. Below, white bones, uncovered by frigid wind, gleamed in bright morning light. Peydra shivered despite the warmth of the sunlight and looked at the king who had been waiting for her gaze. The cruel smile on his lips disappeared just as he opened them to pronounce her death sentence.

Perhaps she deserved this. Falon was finally gaining his revenge, but unwittingly he was about to give her what she wanted, a death wholly unconnected to the curse. She closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

The crushing grip at her elbow jerked, went slack, and then fell away. Her eyes fluttered open, and she peered at the soldier. An arrow had sprouted from his back, a flowering patch of red at its root. He stumbled, eyes full of fear and surprise, and fell backward over the cliff. A woman screamed and chaos reigned as thousands of men stepped out of the tree line onto the plateau of rock across the chasm. Arrows exploded from their bows to meet Peydra’s foes.

The crowd scrambled for safety, but the king did not flee. With rage contorting his face, he rushed Peydra in a way that screamed he planned to shove her from the cliff himself. Even with three arrows soon impeding his movement, he took a great many determined strides until they forced him to take a knee before her, pink spittle frothing at the sides of his mouth as he cursed her.

Abject horror overcame her. She sank to her knees on the frigid rock. The young king lay nearby, his unseeing eyes still open.

Peydra wasn’t sure how long she remained motionless there at the edge of the chasm before someone lifted her to her feet, removed the chains and led her to a covered carriage. A physician treated her abrasions and the blisters on her wrists. He gave her something to drink that tasted awful and, dropping a heavy blanket across her shoulders, left her alone in the enclosed carriage.

Shortly thereafter, a man in military dress entered and sat across from her. In a heavily accented voice, he said, I know you have questions.

Peydra nodded.

Ten years ago, you pardoned thousands of us. We remember that kindness and when we heard you were being held… He looked aside and then back at her. We have repaid the favor in kind and consider ourselves released from our debt of gratitude.

Thank you.

He nodded. What would you like to happen to Malpholous? We are holding him, but do not want to risk retaliation if you are attached to him.

Do what you will with him, but I require the release of my attendants and guards. There were ten with me in the dungeons and others who were sent into the city.

In the dungeons?

She nodded.

That’s a different thing. We cannot-

I must have my guards! I cannot leave them behind to be tortured further! Her cry was shrill even to her own ears, and she pressed her lips together in firm resolve to force panic into a corner and to drag reason to the forefront of her mind. In a calmer voice, she said, I am sorry. I cannot leave them behind. She felt her mind losing clarity after the tonic their physician had given her, and despite her mental commands to the contrary, her body was relaxing.

The captain leaned forward, his brown eyes steady, studying her face. He patted her hand and said, I will do everything in my power to return your men to you. Rest now.

.3.

Liberated

Gritting his teeth, Anthony slowly lifted his head and was rewarded with a glimpse of sunlight. It slipped through a small barred window near the ceiling of the tiny cell where a petite song bird had perched. While it sang, he felt heartsick, believing the silence outside his cell to be evidence that the Saiurians were transporting Peydra to their execution grounds like he’d heard them discussing the day before.

He let his black eyelids drift closed again and eased his head back down. Iron shackles forced his arms stiffly from his body so that he had to stand in a torturous position away from even a wall to lean against. His left shoulder ached in a way that made him know that if he tried to pull the counter weights to ease the tension on his wrists and numb hands again, he’d be likely to dislocate it. Every motion, even just turning his head, sent barbed flames through his neck and torso where he was sure he had either a broken or bruised rib.

Scuffling in the main halls of the dungeon startled the bird. A voice cried out and was silenced. Straining against his bonds, Anthony tried to see through the tiny hole in his cell door. He flinched as a figure darted past the opening. A slight metallic jangle and the noise of cell doors scraping open one after the other sounded until his own gaped wide before him.

A tall Saiurian filled the space and stared at Anthony. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped forward and called to someone. Soon another man appeared in the doorway, both stared at Anthony. They muttered to each other, pointing at the shackles and counterweights and seemed to come to some kind of consensus.

They moved to Anthony’s sides, gripped the chains, and slowly supported the counterweights so he could lower his useless arms. Gentle hands removed the shackles and bolstered Anthony when his legs initially proved inadequate. Grunting with effort, they helped Anthony out of the cell. The first man passed the keys to the other and directed him to continue opening cells and shackles.

Cringing in the bright sunlight, Anthony noticed three horse drawn carts waiting near the curtain wall as they exited the castle and into the courtyard. Anxiousness hampered his steps even more when he didn’t see Peydra or his brother, but knowing he was in no shape to storm back inside and demand their release, he focused only on not falling.

When the man had seen that Anthony settled in a cart with a heavy blanket, a familiar soldier appeared from the shadows of the city and hurried towards them. The cart drivers prodded the wooly oxen, and the line started moving through the streets.

No one voiced questions as they exited the city. When they skirted the border, a covered carriage and a larger group of Saiurians joined their company. Once the caravan was few kilometers past the Draydenian border, a small number of the company broke away from the group to return northward, then a few men at a time faded back the direction they’d come until only the cart drivers and a mere ten foot soldiers remained.

Near dusk, they approached several stationary covered carriages. Despite the frigid weather and the snow covered ground, the camp did not have fires lit. Anxiety squeezed Anthony’s chest as he watched their liberators give everyone a small piece of cheese and a biscuit. He had no desire to eat, only to find out if his queen and his brother were well. He tested his legs, found them sturdy enough, and got out of the cart.

Their liberators had freed every person in the Saiurian dungeons so besides their group’s leadership, there were several thin, unfamiliar faces. And surprisingly, most of the men who were taken to the slave markets were loitering around the carts. In all, he counted about ninety non-Saiurian people milling about the camp.

Finding Gaius slumped beneath a blanket in the corner of one of those carts, Anthony confirmed for himself that the battered man was merely asleep before breathing easy. He accepted another blanket from a Saiurian and put that over Gaius, making sure that the biscuit and cheese that had been resting upon his chest was replaced there along with Anthony’s own.

Anthony passed a group of Draydenians and noticed the councilman in their number. Morde acknowledged him and seemed no worse for wear.

A murmur spread through the camp. Noticing the direction of everyone’s attention, Anthony saw Queen Peydra stepping from a covered carriage on the far side of the group. Without thinking, he took an unsteady step towards her. But then, noticing one of the Saiurian leaders at her side, Anthony stilled, suddenly unsure.

When her eyes fell on him, her face lit with a myriad of emotions. She took two steps and then stalled. The Saiurian leader noticed Anthony and waved him over. The light in her eyes at his approach made him feel powerful despite how much it hurt just to stand.

Bowing as much as his shoulder and painful ribs would allow when he neared, Anthony stood near her as she finished speaking with the leader. When the leader had gone and he felt everyone’s attention had finally drifted from them, Anthony felt himself waver a little on his feet. He motioned to a boulder and they sat. Perhaps he was sitting closer to her than needed, but he told himself it was necessary because of the icy wind.

In a quiet voice, she said, I’m so relieved you’re here. Are you well?

Are you?

Yes. A moment passed and then she said, I’m being told that your brother and his man are in one of the other carriages. I think they are alright.

Anthony felt his shoulders relax slightly. Praise the Maker. He felt her eye him, but continued to look out across camp.

I believe I need to apologize to you.

His eyes found her face in the moonlight. Why?

At that moment, a small man with a bag neared them and tsked at Anthony’s swollen eye. He touched Anthony’s sore shoulder without invitation, and Anthony jerked away and to his feet. The man backed a few steps, his palms up.

The queen touched his sleeve. Anthony, this is their physician.

I’m fine.

She eyed him a moment. No. You’re not. Sit.

He swallowed. Even in the moonlight he could see the ghost of bruises on her face, the bandages on her wrists, smudges on her clothing. He forced the stubbornness out through his nostrils before sitting again – this time, not quite so near her side.

The physician rubbed his nose nervously and then began to examine Anthony. Peydra watched, her eyes communicating, he thought, undue concern until the physician lifted the arm he’d been shielding his ribs with and pain made his vision narrow.

As if talking to himself, the small man muttered his list of findings in the Saiurian tongue: Dislocated shoulder, bruised, maybe broken rib, swollen eye, minor infection in a cut on the cheek. He pressed Anthony’s abdomen, then said, No bleeding, and then started rummaging in his bag. After a moment, he waved another man over. He said something quickly to the other man and then, making eye contact with Anthony, said in his broken accent, Be sleep – how you say? Relax?

The other man rounded Anthony and gripped him over his sound shoulder and beneath the arm he was still trying to keep close to his body. The physician took Anthony’s left wrist, and with his other hand firmly at Anthony’s elbow, he nodded his head at Anthony and pantomimed a deep breath.

When Anthony breathed in, the physician yanked the arm straight. Gasping, his back arched while lightning laced through that side of his body. Once the fire calmed and Anthony could breathe again, the doctor absently patted Anthony’s thigh, then thanked the other man.

Whistling a little six note ditty that reminded Anthony of his childhood, the physician pressed his fingers around the shoulder socket, lifting the arm and rotating it gently. It still hurt, but not like before.

Binding his arm down over the bruised ribs, the physician cleaned his cuts and put salve on them. When the man dropped his supplies back into his small bag, Anthony caught the man’s hand and thanked him. The doctor’s eyes widened, and he shook his head and in a stream of Saiurian said, We are indebted to your queen. This is the least we can do. He bowed to Peydra and then moved away.

Noticing Erik talking with someone at the edge of a group across camp, Anthony stiffened.

Peydra rose from the boulder. Come to the carriage.

A rush of nerves stalled him. Being alone with her in an enclosed carriage instead of seeking his brother seemed a terrible decision, especially with the vulnerable way she was peering at him, but he eased himself up and followed.

.4.

Too Cozy

While Peydra led the way to the small enclosed carriage, she strangled a belief that she was to blame for their situation because she had insisted upon being with them. Surely they would have been able to move faster and safer if she had kept her head – had kept her focus instead of allowing her emotions to rule. Seeing so many Draydenians freed, hope shining in their eyes, made her know what had happened was worth it, but there’d been loss too – losses she wasn’t sure how to understand.

Feeling Anthony behind her again helped steady her, but with so many about, they couldn’t have an open conversation and there were things she needed to say before anything else happened.

Morde came up, stalling her with a comment about his relief at finding her well, and then he nodded to Anthony. Thankfulness washed over her and she offered her hand to him. She