The King's Cursed Bride

Going into the Unknown: Part 2

Carissa heard a scraping sound within the darkness, and then light flared below, revealing her father holding a candle in one hand and firesteel in the other.

He squinted up at her. "Carissa? What are you doing here? It's dangerous by the border." He turned behind him. "Sharya, you can come out, dear."

Her mother appeared behind him, and heat surged in Carissa's chest.

I have no daughter.

Her mother's face was pale, and a shawl was wrapped tightly around her arms and chest; she seemed delicate. Frightened. Carissa couldn't even recall when mother had last been frightened.

Carissa tried to smile at her, but it withered on her lips. "Mother. Father. Don't worry; Elon's here with me."

Her father drew closer, until he stood next to the ladder beneath the trapdoor. "I suppose we'd best come up and give you a proper greeting, then." He climbed up the ladder, grunting as Elon clasped his hand and helped him into the room. "Though I have to say, your timing could be... better."

Her mother wobbled a bit as she climbed, and Elon placed his hands beneath her arms before lifting her the last few feet.

Her mother straightened, smoothing her dress.

Her father placed a hand on her mother's shoulder before gesturing to the kitchen. "We apologize for the mess. We were in a hurry to put everything we needed in the cellar."

Carissa and Elon left the room, her parents following.

Carissa turned. "So you decided to remain in spite of the darkness? You didn't want to flee?"

Her father shrugged his massive shoulders. "Eventually, those refuges will run out of places to flee as the border moves up. We might as well make the best of what we've got."

"Actually," Carissa wound her arm around Elon's, "that's why Elon and I are here. We're going to push the border—and the Reapers—back."

Both of her parents stiffened. Not the response she'd been hoping for.

Her father drew a deep breath. "Well, that's–that's certainly admirable."

Her mother's lips thinned, but she remained silent.

After a long pause, her father cleared his throat. "Your Highness—I mean Elon—would you care to speak outside?" He chuckled, its sound painfully false, and clapped Elon on the shoulder. "Man to man, if you know what I mean?"

Carissa clasped Elon's arm tightly. That meant she'd be left with her mother. Alone.

Elon squeezed back, and she loosened her grip. The gesture was one of reassurance, which meant that Elon would choose to stay—

Elon inclined his head. "Of course, sir." Before she could gainsay him or clutch his arm again, he slipped away from her and headed outside with her father. Elon glanced back, offering her a small smile.

The filthy traitor.

And then the door closed behind them. She and her mother stood in the kitchen alone, facing each other. A sense of déjà vu washed over her, the feeling so intense she nearly slapped a hand to the table for balance.

Carissa breathed deeply. "I believe I'll go tend our horse. We've traveled far today, and—"

"I'm sorry."

Carissa's eyelids fluttered. "I–I beg your pardon."

Her mother shook her head, loose hair falling around her shoulders like white-blond snow. "No, I beg yours. I've had much time to think while you've been gone. Yes, you were rebellious and thoughtless when you left, but you're still my daughter. You always will be. I don't want you to leave again without knowing that."