The penance of having to watch over them. To relive what had happened. To remind me what happens when you defy the queen.
So I suffered through those memories day after day, replaying in my head what I could have done differently to have saved them.
The woman stumbled and paused. She took deep breaths before she continued pushing the cart. The child didn’t move. Either they slept very soundly or…
I cut that thought off. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t help them even if I wanted to.
And I no longer wanted to help anyone.
That instinct had calcified along with my body, twisting with bitterness. Three years of being controlled by the curse had hardened me.
During those years, no one had visited the castle, which I’d protected with wards. It was the only magic I’d managed to keep the queen out. The only ones who could pass through my wards were Victor and Genevieve, my groundskeeper and cook. They’d been here since I was young, and they’d practically raised me. Now in their senior years, they helped me care for Castle Valgarde.
The woman approached the first ward marker in the forest, an old oak stump with runes carved into its bark. I braced myself, waiting to see what happened.
She passed it. I roared inside my cursed cage, itching to break free from my stone prison.
The wards I’d woven into the land itself when the curse first took hold were designed to repel intruders. It would make travelers feel uneasy, uncertain, convinced they’d taken a wrong turn, and they’d turn away. They’d never think to continue out of La Forêt de Veillepierre, let alone approach the castle guarded by frozen sentinels who had once been gargoyle warriors, now merely creative gravestones thanks to the queen’s malice.
Still, there were more wards. And the closer to the castle, the stronger their protection.
The woman pushed the boy in the cart up the slope…
And passed the next ward marker.
Shit.
I would have curled my fingers into fists if they weren’t as inflexible as iron.
The wards should not be penetrated like this. Not so easily.
Unless they were weakening.
Unless the magic I’d poured into the land was finally giving out, the same way I would due to the curse. The poppy tied to the queen’s curse was hardening, as it ever so slowly turned to stone.
The potency of her curse grew stronger, making it ever-more-difficult to shift from stone each night. Soon I’d reach the point where I couldn’t move at all. I’d take my place as another stone grave with my soldiers—a fitting final resting spot.
Or, the poppy would harden and crumble to dust. And so would I.
The queen would win. She’d claim everything. Even my ancestral home of Valgarde. Bitterness turned my stone tongue sour.
The woman stepped out of the forest’s edge and hesitated. She scanned the seven stone warriors on silent watch outside the castle. How many had she already passed in the forest and still continued here? She was either brave or foolish.
Or desperate.
She glanced down at the sleeping child, checked his forehead, and stared straight ahead.
She reached the castle doors, raised her hand, paused, and then knocked.
“Hello? Hello?” She knocked again. “Please. My son needs help.”
No one would answer her. Victor and Genevieve had headed into the next village to get food and supplies.
She called out again, her voice breaking.
She tried to open the door and pushed it open.
A low growl churned within me.
