Sofie scoffed. “There’s no such thing.”
“Oh, yes there is. The only way to remove it is to play by its rules.”
“Which are?”
The poor lass. She still didn’t grasp the danger I’d put her in by marrying her. She still wanted to believe I was making it all up.
“Every year, my crew and I are required to pursue the treasure,” I explained, making a point of keeping my arm firmly over my eyes. I didn’t want to see her face when she realizedwhat I’d done—what I would continue to do, until this curse was broken. “If we are tardy, or try to refuse…let’s say the consequences are personally dire. And we have it easy compared to your part. Only my wife can retrieve the treasure, with me at her side. But they don’t all live long enough to reach the treasure. The curse claims them, and the clock turns back. I must find a new wife, and then set sail for the enchanted isle where our prize is hidden once again.”
“What happens if you don’t find someone to kidnap and trick into marriage?” she asked testily.
“Personally dire consequences,” I repeated, voice flat and my eyes firmly shut beneath my arm. “The same as if we refuse to travel toward the treasure.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning anything from violent illness to horrific dreams to delirium. Sensations of the life being slowly squeezed from your body. Unrelenting megrims, even in crew who never get them. Point the ship back on course, and the symptoms are relieved. Head to port in search of a bride, and they lessen—just enough for us to function. Only when I’ve placed the ring on a new wife’s finger do they dissipate.”
“I’ve never heard of such a curse.” She sounded annoyed about this rather than skeptical. “Only a living caster could create those effects, not an enchanted object.”
“Perhaps your Dewspell Academy is too nice a place to talk about that kind of magic.”
She scoffed. “And what kind might that be?”
“Death magic.”
The silence that followed urged me to lift my arm slightly, so that I could peer at her with one heavy-lidded eye and see her reaction.
“Ah, so youdoknow about death magic,“ I remarked, satisfied by the way the color had drained from her freckled face. “The nastiest of stuff.”
But she was steadfast in her disbelief. I didn’t know whether to admire or pity her for it. “The only way you’d be under a death curse is if a powerful sorceress used her last breath to enact the spell while at the same time making a sacrifice,” she said, “and there aren’t a dozen sorceresses in this world who could pull off that feat, even without the issues of power and timing.”
“And yet, one has managed it. Examine me all you like, but please, do it quietly.”
“Tell me why you went through my things.”
“Why?” I returned my arm to its place over my eyes, where an icy ache was forming on one side of my face. “Because I’m not a fool. I know you magic wielders can send messages on paper, spelled to fly to the recipient like birds. So we rooted out all your paper, ink and pens. Wouldn’t want Dewspell’s best and brightest coming after me and spoiling all the fun, now would I?”
Sofie hissed out a breath. “And I suppose, since I’m your prisoner, I’m to be given some horrid berth belowdeck?”
“Absolutely not. In fact, I’ve just decided you’re forbidden to go belowdeck.”
I swore I could hear her jaw working. “And why, praytell, is that?”
“Because the entire crew is cursed along with me. If you’d struck me with, say, a freezing spell to solidify my wet clothes—which would’ve been the cleverer move—it would’ve deflected, possibly straight into you. A navy mage learned that the hard way, a few years back.”
I heard rustling then, as well as a resigned sigh. She was refolding the clothes my crew had upended in our search for paper, ink and quills. “You’re talking about a protection clausewithin a death curse. You’re saying you and the crew cannot be harmed, except by the terms of the curse itself?”
“Not seriously harmed, anyway. To a point.”
“But that ought to be impossible! Whoever cast this curse had to be highly trained. She must’ve gone to Dewspell Academy. If you were willing to sail there, I could access her academic records and research. I would give you my word that I and the other academics would study every aspect of this curse and break it—“
“Ah, because Dewspell is the only place where magic is taught, is it?” I interrupted. “And it readily teaches vile death magic to its students?”
That got her to close her mouth. Briefly.
“We shan’t be going to Dewspell, wife, for any reason,” I continued. “A nice try, though. I’d wager you’ve seen my handsome mug on wanted posters in its very halls. I’m sure you’d love to turn me in. But trust me, wife. You don’t want to tarry when it comes to finding the treasure we’re after. The curse doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Was she scowling? I was too tired to look, but I felt as if I were being scowled at.
