The Cursed Kingdom Read online

  The Cursed Kingdom

  Maya Daniels

  Copyright © 2019 by Maya Daniels

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Logan Keys - Covers of Darkness

  Interior design Maya Daniels

  Edited by Anthony J Kohler

  If you are unable to order this book from your local bookseller, you may contact the author at [email protected]

  www.authormayadaniels.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  4. Alexander…

  5. Bela…

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  9. Awil…

  10. Bela…

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  16. Hephaestion…

  17. Bela…

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  22. Alexander…

  23. Bela…

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  30. Roxana…

  31. Bela…

  32. Alexander…

  33. Bela…

  About the Author

  Also by Maya Daniels

  1

  Bela…

  "Belatsunat!"

  The song of the birds and the sounds of the city preparing itself to rest for the night was lulling me into a dreamlike state. Everything around me was fading away as I stared intently in the distance, waiting to see something. Anything, really, even if it'll bring dread to my heart. After overhearing my father speaking to the messenger late last night, I can't seem to stop thinking about it.

  He is coming.

  The words echo in my head, over and over.

  As a woman, they try to shelter me a lot. An unlady-like snort escapes me. According to my father, I am too pretty to worry my head with politics and wars. I bite my tongue, not wanting to cause trouble, but I watch. I watch and listen to everything that has been said, whether out loud or whispered behind closed doors. Persia has fallen, and now that beast of a man has set his sights on Babylon. He calls himself a descendant of gods and claims to be protected by the sun god himself. Has he not heard about what is lurking behind the beauty of this city and its jeweled towers?

  I have seen this coming. In my moments of being hopeful—or stupid—I believed it would happen long after I part with this life. How wrong I have been. In many of my prayers in the temple, I have seen a glimpse of things to come. Not clearly enough to talk about it out loud, just enough to make me afraid. I've seen a bright sun shining down on Babylon, to the point of blinding me. In that vision, I have never felt prouder of its beauty. Then lions come, roaming around us like the magnificent beasts they are. One walks in front of them all, holding a beautiful blooming rose in his jaws. As I set my eyes on him, everything is bathed in bright red color. Lifting a hand to shield my eyes so I can see better, I realize it's not color but blood. The thick, coppery smell makes me gag each time it happens. Although it's just a vision, I can still feel the thick liquid seeping into my skin. In a moment of weakness, I spoke to a priestess at the temple the first time I saw it. For days she kept telling anyone that would listen that I invoked a curse on this kingdom. It’s harrowing that she was not aware that this kingdom was cursed long time ago simply by having me in it.

  I wonder if it makes me a horrible person that I'm dreading it, as much as I'm looking forward to seeing that majestic army march towards the city. My city. Will he obliterate it to the ground? Will he unknowingly free me from this golden cage where they want to trade me like a sheep? More like a wolf in sheep's clothing, but sold none the less. A shiver runs down my spine as I remember all the so-called noblemen trying to impress my father for my hand.

  Not even the golden rays of the setting sun peeking through the towers can warm my chilled skin. How long have I been sitting here? The beauty of the flowerbeds and all the fruit trees around me looks suffocating and poisonous. Where everyone sees imposing sights worthy of the gods, I see shackles. Even the magnificent statues around me, chiseled with so much reverence and care, seem like they are ready to pounce and eat me alive. The more I look around me, the harder my heart beats in my chest. I can feel the panic setting in, but I'm powerless to stop it. Pressing both palms between my breasts and gasping for air, I pray no one sees this weakness.

  "Belatsunat! There you are."

  The hand on my shoulder pulls me back to reality and makes my skin crawl. Glaring at my friend, I jerk my shoulder away. She should know better than to touch me.

  "Gula, you scared the life out of me. Say something before you touch me, will you?"

  Looking at her pretty frowning face, I scrub my hands over my own and do my best to calm my heart. I should've heard her coming. Her black hair, braided like a rope, falls over one shoulder to her hips and swings gently over her breast, bringing attention to the overly-decorated bodice of her dress. The woman doesn't know what is enough when it comes to adornments. The bangles she has, covering almost her entire forearms, not just her wrists, make enough noise to hear her from miles away. Being quiet is not something she is known for either; wearily I drop my hands into my lap and look at her.

  "What is it that could not wait?"

  "It’s time for our walk around the palace grounds, remember? I’ve been yelling your name for a long time. I even said it twice while standing next to you before I touched you. You were in a world of your own, as always." The crease between her shaped brows deepens and her reddish lips press in a thin white line "Why? Did you see something?" Gasping, she takes a step away from me.

  That's another thing. The gods have given me this blessing to see into those that I touch, if I so wish it. I would've called it a curse, but since that is the only reason my father is hesitant to marry me off, I call it a blessing, too. That is why I have only one friend. Even with her, I know the reason for the friendship is because she hopes to catch my brothers' eye, not so much my winning personality.

  I am everything a woman should not be in Babylon. Outspoken in a way not befitting my station, sticking my nose into things that should not concern me and knocking some sense into the few men stupid enough to try to buy my affection with pathetic jewels and silks. My lips curl up at the corners, betraying the arrogance I work hard to hide. But I am my father's daughter. I have no problem manipulating or walking all over anyone to get what I want.

  "Oh, dear gods, you did, didn't you!" Gula starts fretting in front of me "No! Don't tell me, I don't want to know." She waves her hands in my face, making me blink fast in hopes she won't poke my eyes out.

  "What?" Stupidly I look at her, not understanding what she is saying.

  "Well, unless you saw Awil. Then don't hold back on my account. Do tell me." She looks at me hopefully with her big brown eyes like a child, just like every time my brother is mentioned.

  "I still don't understand what you’re asking."

  "I touched you…" she says slowly like she is talking to a simpleton.

  "And?"

  "Did you see Awil when I touched you?" one thin eyebrow goes up.

  "It doesn't work that way, Gula, and you know this. I wasn't trying to see inside you."

  With a tired sigh, I lift myself from my perch on the wall where I have been sitting. I don't have time for this…whatever this is. Looking into the distance again, my chest contracts. An overwhelming urge to do something is pushing like a living thing inside me. But what can I do? More importantly, do I want to do something to stop what's inevitably coming, or do I help it come to pass? Nausea makes cold sweat bead on my forehead. I need to get out of here. The palace walls are starting to close in on me even when I'm sitting on the balconies. Lifting the silks of the dress in both hands, I bolt out of there as fast as my legs will carry me. Gula's voice calling behind me is overpowered by the whooshing sound of blood pumping in my ears.

  Bare feet slapping on the mosaic tiles through the hallways make many turn their heads and look my way. I must look like a woman possessed. Chest heaving and unbraided hair flying behind me like a curtain, I blindly run down through the winding stairwell. I must get out of this glamorous tomb. After last night's news, the palace is brimming with people. Their whispers and looks are like demons following in my wake and they feel like hands wrapped around my throat. Dark spots start dancing in the corners of my eyes, but I see freedom in the gaping doors of the entrance.

  My brother cuts off my escape, trying to stop me mere feet from the doors, but I will not let him. When I don't slow down, his eyes widen comically, and he steps aside just as my shoulder collides with the side of his chest, making me stumble. I keep running even as his deep voice follows me like a warning.

  As the night air washes over my face and my feet are outside of the place I call home, the relief I was hoping for doesn't come. Alarmed, like prey running for dear life, my head swivels, looking for an escape. The sweet, alluring smell of the night jasmine and honeysuckle penetrate my mind and I set my course. It's the only thing that's capable of getting to
me at this moment. With a thought of safety in mind, my feet propel me in the one direction that offers me that—my mother's garden. It's the only place that is my salvation, and my doom.

  2

  As my knees hit the soft, upturned ground of the gardens, my mind clears enough that a rational thought can penetrate the panic. Dirt covers the golden color of my dress, but I couldn't care less. Grasping handfuls of the fertile soil and closing my eyes makes me feel like I can finally breathe. There will be hell to pay later for my actions when I go back. For now, I can stay here and feel peace.

  My father built these gardens for my mother. She missed her home so much that he tried his best to give her a little happiness. She is gone now, and I miss her dearly, but at least I have this. It's like a small piece of her is still here. The levels of it go floor after floor, like a maze with its white columns, colorful flowers, trees in all shapes and sizes as well as fountains and statues. That's my father, all right. He never does anything halfway. Everything he has built is a wonder around the world, especially our city gates with their cobalt blue tiles and statues of wild bulls and dragons glaring at whoever approaches them. They will not stop what is coming our way. I know it in my bones.

  Heart still racing and feet sore from being scraped on pebbles, I flip onto my back and let the earth cradle my body. Night has fallen while I ran from whatever invisible foe was chasing me. The silver moon hangs, pregnant, in the star-sprinkled sky like a juicy plum, tempting and magically enchanting. Surrounded by the familiar smells of the gardens, I slowly come back to myself. The chirping of the night birds and crickets stops my perturbed mind. Peace. This is what eludes me in the palace walls. No riches, titles or power can give me this.

  I don't know how long I've been lying on the ground like a child, staring at the moon, when the rustling of leaves and branches disrupts my numbness. My body goes stiff and my heart skips a beat. Not many can enter the gardens; not many know how to find them, either. Those that somehow manage never find their way out. It was a gift from Marduk, the God of Babylon, to my father for his worship, or so I've been told. Only the blood of the king can venture here—and my mother. Again, a rustling of leaves and swinging of branches reaches my ears. Jerking my body and sitting up, I look around. The full moon is the only light here, but it's enough.

  Everything is sparkling with silvery light, although shadows lurk around, hiding whoever is watching me.

  "Show yourself!" My voice sounds powerful and a lot more confident than I feel. Still, there is no sign of whoever lurks nearby. Seconds tick by, and as I hold my breath, in hopes I will hear where their hiding place is, I finally see the shadow. It peels itself off from the nearest tree, making shivers crawl like icy fingers down my spine. It's a man, and a massive man at that. Smart, too, if he knows how to hide his face. I can only see the dark outline of his broad shoulders and a grey silhouette of his body. The light of the moon sparkles on his arm guards and his shins. A foreigner. How in the world did he get in here?

  "Who are you? How did you get here?"

  Lifting myself off the ground, I try my best to show no fear. Awil says men can smell it, like hounds. Growing up with him close in age has served me well to learn how to fight and protect myself. Having my gifts means I can kill however it is, but killing has never been my first thought. Making them suffer, on the other hand, that is a different story. However, I don't think the stranger is impressed by my bravado. He leans his shoulder casually against the tree next to him, and throwing his head back, he laughs in a deep, masculine tone that speeds up my heart for an entirely different reason. Anger bubbles in my chest.

  "How dare you laugh at me!"

  "Well, well… if it isn't the princess of Babylon."

  His deep baritone washes over me like honey and shivers rake my frame. He speaks broken Sumerian instead of Akkadian, my native tongue. If his clothing didn't give him away as a foreigner, this would've, without a doubt. My face reddens in anger, watching his shoulders shake while he suppresses his laughter.

  "Princess, my ass." I murmur under my breath.

  "Excuse me?"

  Shock and amusement color his words. So, he understands my language but chooses to speak Sumerian. Arrogant jerk!

  "You said princess with such class, is what I said."

  "Ah, right. And I should not contradict royalty if I know what is good for me. Am I correct?"

  "That you are. Now answer my question. Who are you and how did you get inside the gardens?"

  "That is a fascinating story indeed."

  Peeling himself from the tree he was leaning against, the stranger steps away from the shadows and directly under the glowing light of the moon. My eyebrows reach my hairline from the unexpected surprise of his beauty. His hair, curled up on his shoulders and carelessly falling over his forehead, is light, like spun gold, just like mine. It’s a very unusual thing in these lands. His eyes are sparkling like gray thunderstorms, but it's not bright enough for me to see their color correctly. His beautiful hairless face, unlike the bearded men here, looks open and friendly with the big smile stretching his full lips. My eyes travel down his thick neck and broad shoulders with the grip of a sword the same size as my leg peeking from behind it, to a metal plate covering his chest. There is a symbol on it, but I'm so startled by his presence I can't even place it. A trim waist that holds a frayed skirt sitting low on his hips and muscled legs standing in a relaxed stance. He is trying to tell me who he is, so I shake myself internally and do my best to concentrate on his words. I might be bitter at men in general, but blind I am not. His presence affects me just like it would any hot-blooded woman, and that only makes me hyper-cautious.

  "I was going to look around this city of yours, curious to see what the fuss was all about. But to my surprise, this wench ran past me, almost plowing me to the ground in her haste to get wherever she was going."

  I frown at him, balling my hands into fists for calling me a wench. That only makes him laugh again, fueling my anger. Luckily, he keeps talking before I do something stupid, like trying to hit him. By the looks of him, I wouldn't do any damage, not with my hands, at least.

  "You see, in a city full of dark-haired beauties, she looked like an imp. She was luring me to follow her and I couldn't resist her enchantment. So I followed, and here we are."

  "An imp?"

  "Well, you are little large to be a pixie." A smirk tugs one side of his lips.

  "That still doesn't tell me who you are." I point out, glaring at him.

  "No, it doesn't."

  With one long stride he steps in front of me. I can feel the heat of his body penetrating my skin through my dress. Shock at his fast movement holds me frozen in place as he lifts one large hand and pulls leaves and twigs out of my hair. No one has dared to come this close to me apart from Awil, not even my father. The absurdity of it all keeps me standing long enough that he finishes cleaning the hair and starts running his fingers through it. Lifting the strands up, he takes a long breath. A rumbling sound comes from his chest.

  "She smells tempting, too, like a desert rose." His deep voice echoes in my chest like a drum, making me feel lightheaded.

  "Who? And take your hands off me." I try to step away, but he grabs my waist.

  "The Imp," he whispers.

  His lips slightly touching the shell of my ear as he speaks makes goosebumps cover my arms. That's when I notice his smell. He smells like sunshine and bronze. His armor, no doubt, but underneath it all, the scent of his skin covered with some oils unknown to me makes butterflies dance in my stomach and I find it hard to breathe. As I stand spellbound by his nearness, he gently runs his nose from behind my ear down my neck to my shoulder. Skimming his lips lightly over my exposed skin, his arm that is wrapped around my waist pulls me to him tightly.