*Maddox*
The shadows on the ceiling begin their dance again, and I suddenly feel all alone, like I used to just a few months ago that feels like a lifetime ago. I watch as tree branches turn to fingers, beckoning, pointing, accusing. I would shift my position and look at the wall, but it wouldn’t make any of the problems and responsibilities weighing me down go away.
Isla wanted to sleep alone tonight. She said that she needed some time to process everything, and she still wasn’t feeling well.
I believe her on both accounts, but it makes me sad. My arms feel empty without her wrapped within them. My chest feels cold and exposed without her head cradled there.
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the last few months. I can’t admit that to anyone else, but I can admit it to myself, at least to a degree. I knew that Isla was special the moment I first laid eyes on her, standing in her bedroom with a towel wrapped around her, and especially when I caught a glimpse of her perfect form in the mirror in the bathroom as she hastily dressed. But once I got to know her, it was clear to me that she and I were meant to be together.
Even if I don’t know how that fits into my decision never to take another Luna, she is having my child, a child I must protect at all costs. The idea that there might be something wrong with my baby isn’t conceivable to me. I am the king. I should be able to command everything to be well with my child, but I can’t. I have no power over such things. It’s difficult for me to accept the fact that there are things even I cannot speak into existence.
My mind goes back to Isla and how I have treated her recently, how I refused to listen when she tried to tell me the truth about who she is, where she came from. That place… I don’t even want to think about it, but now I have no choice. As much as I don’t want to admit it is the truth, I know that she truly is the Princess of Maatua.
Turning over onto my side, I look at the window. The curtains are parted slightly, and I can see a full moon hanging in the sky, its silvery light bathing the tops of the trees in the garden.
I think of Isla’s face when I told her she couldn’t go to try and find this ridiculous fountain Mystica told her about. “The curse,” I’d told her. “You can’t go because of the curse.”
Her eyes had widened, and she’d demanded to know what I was talking about. “How can you refuse to believe in the magic of the healing fountain,” she’d asked me, “but readily accept the notion that there’s an island with a curse on it?”
I’d sat down beside her on the bed and said, “It’s not that I believe the curse is necessarily real, but I don’t see the point in toying with it either if it’s not necessary. I mean, I’m pretty sure I could get bitten by a poisonous viper two miles from the castle and run back in time to get the anti-venom, but I’m not willing to take the chance.”
She’d narrowed her eyes at my analogy. “And you don’t think potentially saving the life of your child is reason enough to take the risk?”
“I don’t think there will be anything wrong with our child,” I said. “I trust in the Moon Goddess, and I know she wouldn’t give me a child at all if she was only going to take the baby away.” I’d tried to sound confident.
But Isla’s next words stung like the bit of a venomous viper.
“So… why would the Moon Goddess give you a fated mate if she was only going to take her away?”
She’d said the words in a calm tone, not an antagonistic one, but it had hurt–deeply. I think my response was too raw for her.
“The Moon Goddess didn’t take Rebecca from me,” I’d told her. “I lost her myself.”
She’d taken a deep breath and stared into my eyes before she said, “You still haven’t told me of the curse.”
I’d looked at Mystica then, thinking she’d be better able to tell the tale of her own land, but the healer had shaken her head. “By all means, Your Majesty,” she’d said with a flourish of her arm. “Speak your truth.”
I’d glared at her for a moment before I’d returned my attention to Isla. “The story I’ve heard is that when two brothers were warring over the crown, one of them turned to the mountains and to an evil mage who’s said to have lived there for hundreds of years. He asked the mage to unleash a spell upon all of the people so that those who stayed but did not turn to him as their new ruler would die, and only those who would accept him would be spared. Because he was evil, and the hearts of the people of Maatua were good, everyone perished except for a very few people who dropped to their knees in order to spare their lives and declared he would be king.”
“So…” Isla had said, her mouth pursed as she mulled over the story. “Wouldn’t that mean that he would still be there and be ruling as king over the very few people who accepted him?”
“No,” I said quickly with a shake of my head. “Because six months after the war ended, there was a violent earthquake that shook the entire island. Most of the dwellings that had survived the fires that had been started during the fighting fell to the ground, including the palace. Only a small part of the castle remains intact today–the Temple of the Moon Goddess. The rest crumbled, including the throne room, where King Antonio was holding court. He was killed. It’s said that when the few survivors came looking for him, they found his head severed by a large chunk of marble that had fallen from the ceiling.”
“Antonio?” she had repeated. “Uncle Tony?” Her eyes had gone to Mystica.
The healer had nodded. “If the curse is true, he would be the one who went to the mage. The other brother was, of course–”
“My father,” Isla had supplied. Then, she was looking at me again. “Do you believe, then, that the earthquake was part of the curse?”
I’d shrugged. “Isla, all magic has a price. Tony wanted something, and he got it, but then he lost his life. It’s said that people who have gone to the island to gather valuables to sell or trade end up dying within a few months of returning from there. People who purchase those items have also been known to die. You almost died on the day you did so.” I’d had to point that out to her, even though it clearly upset her.
“And I was saved by someone who learned to heal people while she lived on the island,” she reminded me. “I don’t understand, Maddox.” She’d reached over and taken my hand. “If our baby is in danger of dying or having a horrible disease, why wouldn’t we at least go try? If I have this baby safely, and then something happens to me, at least my baby will be alive.”
I’d immediately shaken my head, unable to think of the possibility of losing her. “No.” Once again, I was unable to tell her anything more than that. My decision was final.
I’d gotten up and walked to the door, my hand on the knob as I’d said, “We are not going there. You are never going there. And when your brother leaves, make sure he takes everything with him that came from Maatua.” I’d stormed off and hadn’t seen her again all evening, but as I’d closed her bedroom door, I’d heard her begin to weep.
Sighing, I thought about how I’d tried to lose myself in work after that but been unable to. I’d really made a mess of everything, not because of the decisions I’d made–I didn’t regret telling her she couldn’t go–but because of the way I’d ordered her about. She didn’t deserve to be spoken to that way, like she was a helpless child.
Now, I am contemplating going to her, sneaking into her room and wrapping my arms around her soft, warm body, pulling her to my chest, kissing her sweet lips, and falling asleep in the only way I ever can now–nestled up with her.
It was my pride that got me into this situation where I am sleeping by myself, and it is my pride that is preventing me from fixing it. Once again, I roll over, this time to face the wall, and bury my face in my arm.
I close my eyes and try to picture a happy scene, Isla and I in a meadow, a picnic blanket beneath us, children laughing and running around us, the sun highlighting their golden hair. Each of them reminds me of their mother with hints of me in their facial features.
That doesn’t help for long, though, as the smile that momentarily lit my face slides away, and I grimace again at the weight of everything I must carry on my shoulders.
Thoughts of what will transpire tomorrow come to mind. I need to have my wits about me to perform the first public execution ceremony in many years, the first one ever where the daughter of an Alpha will be put to death. If I’m not rested, it will show, and I will appear to be weak and flustered. No, I must find a way to go to sleep–but I’ll have to do it here, on my own.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls, filling the night air with the mournful tones of a creature out in the darkness reaching for an unattainable goal, an object that will always be far beyond their limitations of achieving.
That’s how I feel now, not about Isla or my baby or what is about to happen tomorrow but about restoring peace and prosperity to this kingdom so that no one has to be concerned anymore about the threat of war, about being slaughtered in their own home as they sleep, about being poisoned and dragged from their loved ones.
But peace may as well be as distant as the moon, and I feel I’ll never reach it. As my eyelids begin to flutter, I have to wonder, maybe it’s not just Maatua that’s cursed.
Maybe I am, too.