Cursed

As the greatest of tragedies do, it began with a curse. A king and queen were blessed with a beautiful baby girl to someday rule their great kingdom. Late one night, while they rocked their daughter to sleep, they sang her lullabies of old fairy songs. Not knowing the power in those words, they mistakenly summoned a fairy to the nursery.

Having never seen a member of the Fair race before, the beautiful creature rendered them speechless. Her glimmering wings, pale green skin, and golden hair were more than enough to enchant the unsuspecting pair.

"Your Majesties," said she, dropping into a curtsy. "Such a beautiful child deserves a blessing, don't you think? Make a wish for the princess and I will make it so."

The king's eyes lit up at such an offer, but unlike the common folk, he had never been warned about the deceptive ways of Fairies.

"She has her mother's beauty, to be sure," he said. "All I wish is that she would be as beautiful on the inside as she is on the out. Give her a heart of gold that is ready to love."

"So be it," said the imp. With a wink and a twitch of her pointed ears, the deed was done. The fairy disappeared in a flash of brilliant light and the king and queen thought little of the blessing until the child grew older.

They first grew concerned when the princess didn't seem as playful as the other children at court. Then she cut her little finger on a broken teacup and the wound ran gold rather than red. The fairy had given Princess Verity a real heart of gold.

Livid at the fairy's wickedness, the king and Queen summoned her with her song and demanded she rescind her blessing on the child. The fairy, easily offended as such creatures are, resented the request and gave the princess porcelain bones to match her golden heart.

"That's when the king and queen came looking for me."

"Fie! For you?" my fellow sailor asks. He doesn't seem impressed with my tale. Years of sun and saltwater have turned his skin to a wrinkled leather, so I'm sure he's heard all manner of "tall tales" while shipping prisoners to the colonies.

"They needed a physician."

"And the court don't have a physician?" Another asks.

"Not one familiar with treating fairy curses," I reply.

By now, my story has drawn a crowd. We're all prisoners here, save the ship's captain and his most trusted crew. The faces gathered are young, boys in the prime of their youth. Their cheeks are rosy, their eyes are desperate, and I think they long for something to dwell on other than the endless sentences awaiting us at our journey's end.

"What was she like? The princess," one of them submits.

I don't know where to begin to describe her, so I start with the moment we met.

Caged

I didn't know what to expect as I followed Lord Cyril through the long, columned halls of the royal residences. The palace was unlike anything I'd ever seen, but my pride bade me to hide my shock. I was out of my depth amid marble busts and fringed silk window trimmings. Perhaps it was the seasickness, but my entire body recoiled in protest to these new surroundings. I felt like a man in the wrong skin.

Still malnourished from the long voyage, the parquet floor seemed to tilt like the deck of a ship beneath my feet when I first laid eyes on Princess Verity. It'd been four months since agents of the crown burst into my home, told me my future queen needed me, and whisked me away from Indirim and the Eastern continent on the fastest ship in the fleet.

Her bedchamber was the size of a small ballroom and the largest bed I've even seen filled it from wall to wall. A canopy of sheer, white silk descended from the crystal chandelier to the edges of the mattress. I thought I'd seen wonders in my own land, but I hadn't known beauty until I saw her sprawled across flower embroidered pillows with not one, but four books spread out in front of her.

"Your Highness," Lord Cyril called to her. "Doctor Thomas Sedha has arrived to see you."

The Princess lifted her chin off her hand and looked at me with eyes bright and kind. She got to her feet and bounded across the expansive bed, but I could quickly see how the excess of movement tired her. By the time she reached us her breathing was labored.

She sank down onto the bed in front of us. I could then see something strange about her eyes; the tiny capillaries weren't red but faintly gold. I'd been briefed on her condition, but it was still shocking to see eyes gleam the way hers did. I couldn't help noticing the beauty of them, how they seemed full of more life than most.

"Are you here to cure me?" she asked, her head tilted to make her brown curls fall to one side.

"No cure has been found," I said, expecting this to upset her.

She nodded, but it didn't seem to cause her distress. Perhaps she had accepted her fate; she was well into her womanhood.

"What I can do is treat the condition in a way that will give you a better life."

Princess Verity looked at me, glimmering eyes bright with hope. "Thank you," she said.

I looked to Lord Cyril. "May I examine my patient?"

"I will give you the room," he said.

Lord Cyril went to the door and ushered in two of the princess's handmaidens. "After you finish, the King and Queen would like to hear your plan for the princess presently."

The maids went to either side of the princess and helped her gingerly from her massive bed. I studied her movements carefully. Her bare feet reached the floor and I looked to her face in time to see her wince. How long had she been confined to this bed?

"Are you in pain, Your Highness?"

Fully on her feet, she smoothed down the skirt of her simple muslin gown. "A little."

I took one of her pale hands. "May I?"

She nodded, her gold flecked eyes fixed on mine.

I slid fingers over her wrist, then up to her elbow where I probed the joint with a gentle touch. As suspected, I felt the softness of inflammation. The princess's lips twitched under the pressure of my grasp. Perhaps her pain was more than she let on.

"Have you any broken bones, Your Highness?"

"Never. I've been confined here since the fairy bestowed my second curse upon me, but it's not so bad as it looks."

My stomach tightened as I found a surprising anger burning in my lungs. The room was beautiful enough by anyone's standards. Long, paned windows stretched from the floor to ceiling allowing the princess a view of the palace gardens. Elegant as it was, it was still a cage.

"You may be surrounded by every comfort," I said, "but this is no way to live." I could hear the tremble in my voice.

Princess Verity looked at me with a curious sort of frown that betrayed her true feelings. She flashed me a weak smile, a small sign of hope. "I guess I'll have to learn then."

~

"The lighter weight of her bones has left her weak. The gold in her veins can't carry oxygen like the blood that runs in ours, limiting her stamina," I said, explaining the princess's condition in an attempt to make the King and Queen understand. "Confining her to a bed, no matter how large, has done little to help her cope with the effects of her curse."

King Philip stood at the ornate, marble hearth, a glass of dark liquid in hand and a cigar in the other. He didn't seem particularly concerned with his daughter's plight, more like he wanted me to get to the end of my point. Queen Cecily watched more closely from where she sat on the devan. Her devoted brother, Lord Cyril, stood at her shoulder.

I pressed on. "There is much we can do to give her some sense of normalcy. First, and this is a cautionary measure, but she must have a new wardrobe. Line all her garments with goose down to protect her from the hazards of daily life. It's a miracle she hasn't broken a bone, but if she does, it won't heal like ours would. Second, she needs to begin a routine of exercise to build flexibility, balance, and strength. I know of a ballet instructor from my time in the university here. She's a discreet woman who can train the princess in dance. That exercise should suffice to build her diminished muscles without too much strain on her bones."

The king snuffed out his cigar rather forcefully into a crystal dish on the mantle. "Yes, that is all well and good, but our main concern is whether she will be able to fulfill her duty to the treaty."

I paused my pacing across the sitting room. "What treaty?"

King Philip straightened. "You were supposed to have been made aware of the situation, but Princess Verity has been engaged from birth to the prince Gaspare of Florenzia. The treaty will unite our two kingdoms, but it's contingent upon the production of a viable heir."

My hand flew to my jaw to make sure it didn't fall open. "That would be most unwise. Even with a regimen of exercise, the strain of the delivery would kill her."

"So you believe she won't be able to conceive and carry a healthy child to term?"

"Not without great difficulty."

"So it's possible then. You will, as her doctor, advise her and provide her your care as a physician until such an event occurs."

"When will she marry the prince?"

"You have one year to prepare her, unless you don't feel equipped to the task, then I can have you on the next boat to the Indirim Colonies."

"I am well equipped, Your Majesties," I said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have much work to do."

Consumed

It wasn't easy, but Princess Verity's condition made a rapid improvement with the addition of ballet to her daily activities. I spent most of my time supervising her and trying to find any case I could study where a woman with porcelain bones was able to successfully deliver a child. I was so busy worrying over her curse that I failed to notice the change that occurred within myself.

I was out of place in her world, but Verity made every attempt to make me feel at home. Perhaps it was gratitude for liberating her from her cage, but she ordered Indirim teas and spices for me that she snuck into my pockets whenever I walked her on my arm through the palace halls for her afternoon constitutional.

By the time spring blossoms sprouted from the trees, we were friends, but it wasn't until the haze of a blistering summer that I saw her blush.

I fell in love with her the first time I saw her blush.

She pulled at my arm, the start of a waltz played on her gramophone as she insisted that I dance with her instead of our nightly stroll to the greenhouse. Everything told me I should refuse, but I couldn't resist the chance to make her smile. I couldn't remember the last time I'd danced, but as I pulled Verity's tiny frame into position with mine, I got the feeling I'd never forget this time.

Verity moved unlike any partner I could recall. Her lips were drawn in such a grin that I knew she wasn't in any pain. Each spin, each step and every turn of her head was filled with a joy I couldn't quite explain—like every figure of the waltz was a gift.

When the music slowed to a stop, we did too, but for a moment I forgot to release her.

I didn't realize I was staring, but that's when it happened.

She didn't blush like a normal girl would—a flush of red to the cheeks. No, as her blood vessels widened with the rush of feeling, her heart pumped gold to her cheeks. In the light of the evening sun slanting through the windows of the room that once held only her bed, her skin shimmered.

"You're looking at me funny," Verity said, her eyes focused purposefully on mine.

"Forgive me," I said, suddenly embarrassed by all the thoughts that were threatening to overwhelm me.

I moved to turn away from her, but she caught my face in her hands. "You don't have to stop," she said as she ran soft thumbs over the roughness of my cheeks.

Her words pummeled me, catching me so far off guard I felt my knees buckle. From that moment I was consumed. I knew I had to save her.

Condemned

I'd done my job too well: Verity was the picture of health and the marriage and ensuing treaty were pursued. I couldn't bear to attend the wedding. No matter how much my absence hurt Verity, I couldn't watch her marry a man she didn't know, a man who didn't love her.

It was after the unhappy union that I resigned myself to a lesser role in her life—at least until Verity gave me the news herself.

She was with child.

As the kingdom celebrated, I was forced to broach the subject of the child's delivery to the King and Queen again. Despite her visible improvements, Verity's would never be able to support the strains of childbirth. I pleaded with their majesties to allow me to surgically deliver the child through an incision in the princess's stomach, but their concern wasn't for their daughter; it was only the survival of the heir that mattered.

~

I let my hand travel slowly from Verity's back to her stomach. Beneath the layers of white silk, I could feel the new curve of her belly that hadn't yet started to show beneath her voluminous gowns.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, unable to quiet the physician's voice in my head. "Any nausea?"

Verity smiled up at me. "A little."

"Any pain?"

She placed her hand over mine. "None."

I could see the excitement written on her face. She hadn't yet met her child and she was already full of love for them. I didn't understand how she could be so enamored with a child she wouldn't get to raise. Then I realized she didn't know. Of course she didn't.

"Verity," I said. Bile rose in my throat, making it hard to speak. "Verity, there is a near certain chance you won't survive the delivery."

The smile fell from the princess's lips. "What?" she asked, stuttering out the word.

"I've told your mother and father from the beginning a successful delivery would be near impossible — unless I am able to deliver the child by an ancient surgical technique."

I watched her eyes widen in fear, but she seemed to swallow it as she took my hands in hers. "Please, Thomas. You have to save me."

I drew her hands to my lips, pressing kisses to each of her knuckles. "I will... by any means necessary."

~

When her time came, we stole out of the palace in the dark of night with the help of Verity's more sympathetic personal servants. I helped her into the waiting carriage and without sounding a single alarm, we were off to the winter lodge.

As I laid a hand on her massive belly she grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight as if she knew what fight was ahead of her, what risk we were taking.

In the dark of the carriage, I held her in silence as I listened to her labored breathing.

"I love you, Thomas," she said.

I didn't have to look at her to know she was crying. "I love you," I replied, as we both put words to what we'd long felt for each other.

Verity's wet nurse waited for us at the door to the winter lodge, a single lamp in her hand to guide us inside. We didn't have time to wait. At any moment our absence from the palace could be discovered and soldiers sent to every royal apartment and residence within a day's ride. I guided Verity to a table in the kitchen that had been set up to my specifications.

The procedure was ancient and brutal, but according to my training, Verity would have to remain awake during the process. The nurse and I helped her onto the table and that's when she grabbed my hand. There was no joy in her eyes anymore, only fire.

"When this is over, I want you to take me away," she said, her grip on me tightening. "My parents condemned me to death. Now they shall get their heir, only they won't ever see me again."

That was the last thing I remember until I recall pulling the crying, gold-smudged little girl from her stomach. It was then, while I held the little girl who would be queen, guards burst into the kitchen. In the commotion that followed, a soldier drove something hard against my head. As I fell to my knees, the child was taken from me. I blinked away stars and found Lord Cyril standing above me, cradling the heir.

Verity called my name again and again but each time it grew more faint. I was pinned to the ground by guards, arms at my back.

"Please! I need to finish. She's bleeding out." I don't know how many times I repeated myself, but from where I lay, I could see Verity's shimmering blood where it pooled on the floor.

She eventually stopped calling my name.

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