Short Story: The Ruby's Curse

(Part 1 and 2)

Here is a revamped short story I wrote from a writing prompt (that I can no longer remember where I found it). Premise: you are cursed to kill the person you love. Turns out… they’re immortal. Enjoy!

Nicola has been cursed since childhood. Fleeing from the murder she could do nothing to prevent, she avoids any attachments, any companionship that might feed the curse. But she cannot run from it forever. The compulsion forces her to kill again. Yet, this time, her victim carries his own curse.

His blood was sticky. I stared at the crimson streaming down my arms, shockingly hot. It coated my hands, tight around the hilt, my fingers cramped and aching. There was so much of it, soaking his shirt, dripping to the hard road.

He made a horrid, wet noise, worse than the sound of the sword sliding into his flesh. Another. I tore my horrified gaze from the wound and looked up into his face.

He was laughing. His teeth were coated red as he smiled at me.

“Do you mind letting go?”

I snatched my hands away, my entire body jerking back. I fell, landing in the dirt with enough force to stop my breath.

His hands closed around the hilt, his grin now something feral and snarling. He set his feet and pulled the blade free.

His groan of pain sent me scrambling further back. He went down on one knee, the sword clattering to the icy ground beside him.

I could only watch blankly as he straightened. How could he? With that wound, a mortal wound I knew too well. But he did, anger blazing in his face. Truly blazing, his skin glowing. The wind caught and swirled, suddenly as hot as his blood as it whipped around him.

I put up a hand to shield my eyes from the sting of it, thinking for a moment I could hear voices, laughter. But when the wind died down, we were alone.

The man stood over me, scowling. Furious.

Alive.

“Why the blazes did you—?”

I screamed. I did not mean to. No one could hear me, too far outside the steading’s walls, in the dead of winter. But it broke from my lips, panic and terror and relief.

“Bu gonji ni fiwa.” He muttered and grabbed for me.

I twisted from his grip, scrabbling madly to run. Rocks cut my hands and I pulled myself to my feet, still shrieking mindlessly.

A strong hand yanked me back and another clamped over my mouth.

“Fherrin’s teeth, woman.” He dragged me off the road. I kicked and flailed but was no match for his strength. He pushed through the sparse undergrowth, grousing as he manhandled me around trees.

“Stupid place to murder someone, on the open road. Anyone might have chanced by. How were you planning on hiding my body, hmm? Ruined my best shirt. Where did you get that worthless pig sticker? Blasted girl, stop squirming!”

All at once he dropped me. I fought to my feet to find myself hemmed in by rocks. I pressed into their merciless embrace, panting with fear.

There was a hole through his coat and shirt, still wet with his blood. I stared dumbly at it, not believing even as the evidence stood before me irate.

He loosed a string of profanities and went to rub his face. He saw the dried blood on his hands and grimaced. Then he crouched, sat on his heels, and was silent.

My breathing slowed, the ache in my chest easing as the quiet winter afternoon carried on around us. I found myself trembling and pulled my cloak closer against the chill. He said nothing, just watched me with narrow eyes. Waiting.

I gulped and stated the obvious. “You’re not dead.”

“No.”

That was enough to send me to the ground, my legs unable to support me through this absurdity. I huddled as tight as I could, shivers running through me.

“Why?”

I flinched at his tone, sharp and annoyed. Then giggled. Of course, he would be annoyed. I had stabbed him. Even I recognized my growing hysteria and sucked in a deep breath to head it off.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “If I had known you wouldn’t…”

He cocked his head. “Die?” he supplied wryly.

My face burned. “I’m sorry,” was the only thing I could say.

“But, why?” He was still looking at me in that narrow way, intent and wary. “Have I met you before?”

“Only once.” That was what hurt the most. How careful I had been, the loneliness, the longing. Then to have this stranger, some vagabond, stroll through the market and simply smile at me.

He grew angrier, somehow. “I have never forced a woman.”

“No!” If there was some way for me to sink into the earth, to simply cease being. I should return to the road, drive that blade through my own chest.

“Gently, lady.”

I cringed. He was closer now and I had nowhere to run. He would turn me into the elders. I would die on the gallows, the steading gathered to watch as I writhed and twitched.

“Gently,” he murmured, and despite my fear his voice soothed me. “Tell me. Why do you want to kill me?”

“I don’t,” I whispered helplessly. “Lady’s grace, I don’t.”

“Then, why—?”

“I have to.”

I could hear the frown in his voice, no matter my eyes were screwed shut and my face pressed into the rock beside me.

“Are you under duress? Has someone coerced you to—?”

I shook my head. “Please, just go. Before I hurt you again.”

He chuckled, something much nicer now that he didn’t have a great, bloody sword through his chest. “Somehow, I find that unlikely.”

He waited silently for the long minutes it took for my terror to finally ease. I chanced to look at him. He sat cross-legged on the ground, chin in his hand.

“You are from that village? Skopon?”

I swallowed the tightness from my throat. “Skopos, yes.”

“And I met you there? I don’t remember you.”

“We didn’t… I mean, I saw you.” Like a beacon, a blazing light. “We didn’t speak.”

“I admit my confusion, good lady. I know I can be a boor, but I fail to see how I could drive you to murder without at least speaking to you.”

He was trying to joke and a tiny part of me wanted to laugh. That same tiny part melted into liquid longing, and I hastily smothered it before I lunged for him.

“I’m sorry,” I said yet again, dull now, and resigned.

“What are you called, lady?”

“Nicola.”

“Ebrahim,” he returned. He made a curious motion, a salute of some kind. But his gaze remained shrewd and considering. “Will anyone miss you should you not return tonight?”

A familiar ache swelled up in my chest. “No.”

“Do you have any other weapons?”

I shook my head. I was careful to never carry a blade. Hence my stealing Georgin Smithson’s newly finished work from where it lay in the smithy.

He examined me a moment more, than pushed from the ground. “I have a camp close by. Come.”

I hesitated, pushing against the compulsion. Would it let me return to the steading? Ebrahim took slow steps back, hands loose at his sides. Ready to grab me should I bolt, I knew.

I fought it. Oh, how I fought it. My limbs jerked, forcing me to my feet. I gritted my teeth, trying to make myself turn the other direction, flee to the safety of the steading. Sweat stood on my face, icy as the wind caught me outside the shelter of the rocks.

“Good woman Nicola, allow me—”

“Don’t! It’s not safe.”

He laughed good-naturedly. “Come now, girl. I think I am well a match for—"

There was a searing pain, a snap, and I snarled as I lunged. His eyes widened and then I was on him, hands at his throat. We went down with the crack of branches, my body a hissing, vicious beast even as I sobbed, begging.

He was right, in the end. I was no match for him, even driven by the curse. I dragged thin breaths through the throat he held firmly in the crook of his elbow, my hair twisted back in his other hand. His weight pressed me down, crushing my arms below us.

His voice was ragged, even as he tried for calm pragmatism. “My guess would be possession. Have you pled your holy man for relief?”

I spared a little of my breath to spit dirt from my teeth. “No. Curse.”

“Ah.” Even in my half-crazed state, there was something odd in his tone. “How… ironic.”

Of course. Though I would call his affliction more a blessing than a curse.

“I am going to let you up now.”

“Don’t.”

“What do you suggest instead?”

“Kill me.”

The arm around my throat tightened. But it did not press harder.

“Please,” I begged. He could do it painlessly and quickly. A few short moments of terror, then darkness. Freedom. Would I be allowed into the All Rest? Surely, I would not be punished for something I had no control over.

I gasped as he released me. I did not try to rise, only curled up and wept, throat burning.

He spoke but I could not listen, wracked with hopelessness and desperation. His arms were around me again, but gently. Carrying me. I drew in, gripping my hands together so I could not claw for his eyes.

His camp was tucked into a tiny cave. The river murmured below, his steps shifting the stones as he climbed into the little alcove. He set me down on something soft. I was trembling now, my hands and feet numb, no matter the warmth from his body.

I had not had time to prepare before coming after him, feet dragging and tears streaming down my face. The sword had been heavy and cumbersome, and my shoulders ached.

Dusk was already upon us, the winter sun below the trees. This Ebrahim let me lie and squatted to light a fire. Soon, there was a crackling blaze. I watched him feed it for a time, then he brushed his hands off and stood.

“I will fetch water.”

I wiggled closer to the heat and closed my eyes. I heard his steps leave and return, the gurgle of pouring water and the clink of metal cook pots.

I must have drifted into a stupor, for the fire was down to embers when I came back to myself. I stirred, surprisingly warm. A heavy blanket lay across me.

I winced as I shifted to sit, muscles aching and tight. It was full dark, the only sounds the river and the wind.

“Tell me about this curse.”

I searched the shadows until I found him, faintly highlighted by the red from the coals. He sat against the cave wall, legs outstretched, ankles crossed. He smoked something that stung my nose, acrid and heavy.

I tucked my legs up, pulling the blanket around my shoulders to keep the warmth in.

“It was my parents. They had made a vow before the priestess of Napleon. I never learned what or why they broke it. Or why their punishment fell on me. I was young when they abandoned me. I don’t remember when. I tried to find them, but…”

He said nothing, drawing in even breaths of that pungent smoke. I stared at my hands. Even in the darkness, I could see the dark stains on them.

“I’m sorry.” It was useless and meaningless. But what else could I say? He was only alive because he was…

I shuddered. Had I done something to increase the goddess’ ire? To draw further punishment? To kill this man over and over, inevitable, and impossible?

“Why me?” he asked.

My voice stuck in my throat. He went on in that same calm, even tone.

“You say this has been your burden since you were a child. I assume you are not in the habit of stabbing your neighbors. Maybe you could get away with killing travelers such as myself, but surely someone would have noticed a pattern by now.”

“There was…” I dropped my head to my knees, exhausted from shame and sorrow. “There was one other.”

I could not see his face in the night, but I could feel how his attention narrowed. Intent, wary.

“What happened to this other?”

“I killed him.” It was the smell that clung most to my memory these long years after, rather than the rest of that horrific day. Blood and urine and terror.

Ebrahim let out a long breath and a wave of that smoke wafted over me. I wrinkled my nose to stop a sneeze.

“So, it’s not just me you hate.”

My shoulders shook in silent, helpless laughter. He must have the eyes of an owl, because he asked me, “What amuses you?”

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I don’t hate you.”

“In my experience, murder usually requires some amount of dislike.”

“Not for me.”

Exasperation finally roughened his voice. “What is the nature of this curse, woman? I should like to know what evil I am dealing with.”

“It’s not my fault,” I snapped back.

“Says a confessed murderess.”

“I didn’t want to kill him!”

“Yet, you did.”

“I loved him!” I was on my feet, my shout slamming back into me from the damp cave walls. “I begged him to run, to restrain me, to kill me. He laughed at me and I slit his throat! He died at my feet and there was nothing I could do to stop it! Don’t you think I’ve tried? That I’ve pleaded with Her to release me from this compulsion?”

“What compulsion?”

“To kill whoever I love!”

The word echoed in the tiny space, deafening. My breaths were loud, rough and uneven. Ebrahim had not moved, but I saw the glint of something metal in his lap. A knife.

I barely let myself have the thought before I whirled and ran for the river.

“Wait! Nicola!”

Cold so sharp it tore my breath from my chest. I stumbled, the rocks slippery under the water. The current pulled at my heavy winter skirts. I plunged deeper, the icy water cooling the drive to turn, to take up that knife and drive it into his heart.

Water closed over my head. I opened my mouth, bracing myself for the pain of drowning. A muted splash reached my ears, a shudder in the water. He had dived in after me.

I kicked desperately, driving myself further into the current. My chest burned, but I could not force myself to draw that fatal breath. I should have ended this years ago, once I knew what I was capable of. I was a coward, selfishly hoping I could break free from this. A fool. Even now, with my back on the bottom of the river, stones ice in my grip, I could not take that last step toward death.

And it was too late. His hands gripped me, yanking me up. I fought, but once more a hand closed over my mouth and nose, pinching them shut. I belatedly tried to take that breath, but only convulsed airlessly as he dragged me to shore.

The winter air was almost warm in comparison. I was too numb to feel the scrape of the stones against my back as he hauled me out of the water. I gasped in a burning gulp of air.

My clothes were a dripping weight holding me down, my cloak a chokehold on my neck. I had not the strength to fight loose of them and before I could even get to my knees, he was on me again.

Something tight and biting closed around my wrists. I cried out as he wrenched my arms behind me, then pulled my legs together.

His harsh breaths cut the air as he bound me. Then grunts as he moved me back up into the little cave.

I was too cold even to shiver as he brought the fire back to blazing life. He moved back and forth, crashing through the bushes and returning with piles of branches and sticks.

It might have been minutes or hours as he worked, stripping me out of my sodden dress and drying me with rough blankets. I could do nothing, my limbs bound tight. I whimpered as his knife flashed near my face, but he only cut my bodice and ripped it free of my body.

Finally, I realized he was speaking, muttering under his breath in a strange tongue. He, too, had peeled off his wet clothes, stepping into dry ones as he hopped from foot to foot on the rocky ground.

His hands were cold as he lifted my head and pressed a cup to my lips.

“Drink.”

I tried to turn my head away, but he pulled it back.

“Drink, Nicola.”

I refused, clenching my teeth.

More muttering, guttural and scathing. He jerked my chin and got something between my teeth, forcing them open.

I choked on the water, hot from his cookpot. It made a line of fire down my throat, pooling in my stomach and reawakening my body from its numbness. Another cup, that wedge still holding my mouth open.

I hated him then, even as my heart ached for him.

He was well equipped for winter travel. He wrapped me in woolen blankets and set me nearly on the crackling fire. He pulled furs from his pack, clapping his hands together to keep them loose as he tucked them around me.

I quickly grew too warm, my hands and feet prickling. I wiggled away from the fire.

“Hold!”

I cringed from his snarl. My throat was raw as I tried to explain.

“I was only—"

“Keep your silence, woman.”

I obeyed, both grateful and furious.

“Serves you well, fool, to die this night.” He slammed to his feet, pacing and rubbing his arms. “What brain worm have you to enter such water on this night in winter? Do you wish for death, girl?”

“Yes!”

That jerked him around. He swore at me and I screamed my desperation.

“Let me go! Let me die! Please!”

“I will do no such thing!”

He stormed away, leaving me alone as I screamed my fury. My voice was worn to a thread by the time he returned with another armful of wood. He ignored my rasps and kept the blaze high all through the night.

Dawn found me listless and numb. Not from cold, but a senseless nothingness the held me in its grasp. Ebrahim lay next to me, his body pressed against mine.

I didn’t understand this. I had tried to kill him, yet he saved me from drowning, then dying of exposure. I was still bound, but he carefully moved me to sit up and made me drink another cup of warm water.

He let my ankles loose long enough for me to tend to my needs, mortifying as he watched me narrowly the entire time. But when he returned me to the cave, he retied his knots with gentle hands.

The day dawned misty and cold, but he had hung my cloak in the entrance to the cave and some warmth collected in the tiny space. He made something savory to eat and fed me it still steaming hot, scowling when I tried to deny him, as if I were a recalcitrant child rather than a murderess.

Reluctantly, I thanked him. He didn’t answer, just ate his own portion and wiped his dish clean.

“As I understand it,” he said finally, “You have been cursed to kill people you love.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “Yes.”

“And you love… me?”

I flushed, looking away from his confusion. “Yes.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. It had shocked me, too, the suddenness of it. I had been at the market, winding through the crowd, busier than usual this time of year on account of the clear weather. I had stopped by a meat seller to adjust my satchel when he’d walked by.

A moment of eye contact, his smile. It was all so unexpected and horrible. I’d lost him in the crowd. My boots had dragged over the hard packed earth of the steading’s narrow streets, pulled in his wake like a leaf in a torrent.

“The last one, was it like this with him?”

“No.” My voice sounded as if I had aged a hundred years during the night. I felt as if I had, weary and heartsick.

“How, then?”

Why couldn’t he let it rest? I scowled, but made myself answer. “I was young. He and I had been… I didn’t know, then, what it could make me do. I was foolish. Reckless.”

“Do those villagers, do they know about this? About what you did?”

I shook my head. “I ran that night. Before he was found. It’s been years now, far from here.”

Ebrahim nodded, rubbing his jaw. The faint light in the cave showed details I had missed in yesterday’s mania. Dark skin, a rich, red bronze rather than the ebony of the southern continent. Dark hair that curled even cut close to his skin. His eyes slanted, the iris and pupil the same inky color.

Warmth filled my chest. I drew in a deep breath, trying to stop it before it began. But I was as helpless to control the compulsion as I had been before.

He spoke, but I was lost in the screaming. There was fury and pain and useless pleading. The winter day came back slowly. I was lying on my side, the ground leeching cold through the layers of blankets.

I tasted blood and the inside of my mouth felt slick. Something was under my head, cushioning me from the rocks.

“Perhaps I should end this for you.”

I gasped, relief and shock. He was alive. Of course he was alive. I struggled to sit, my bindings tighter now.

He pressed my shoulders down and held me in place. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

There was a throbbing ache on the back of my head. My vision swam and something cold laid across my forehead.

I blinked the bleariness from my eyes and found him frowning down on me, my head cradled in his lap. We were outside the cave on the rocks on the riverbank.

“When you killed the other one…” He saw my flinch and sighed. “I am sorry to bring you pain, good woman, but I need to understand. When you killed your lover—“

“He wasn’t—!”

“Did the compulsion pass?”

I had spent long years trying to forget that night, the frantic days after. But they were as sharp and clear as ever.

“Yes.”

“And you cannot control it?”

“I’m trying.” I hated the tears that escaped. Useless, selfish tears.

“But, in between, you are lucid? Aware of it?”

“I… I suppose.” I licked my lips, dry and coppery with blood. “You’re the first since…”

He gave me an odd smile, showing bright teeth. “I am nothing special, to deserve such an… honor.”

It took a moment, but I finally recognized the rasping noise from my throat as laughter. It was quickly smothered by more tears.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. I try to live alone, to avoid getting close to people. I move often, so I don’t…”

He nodded. “A lonely life.”

I met his gaze and saw only understanding and comfort there. No anger, no hate, as would be his right.

The curse stirred sluggishly, but I was too exhausted even for its torrid power. We sat like that for a long time, listening to the river and the small animal noises of the woods.

“My father was a warrior of the adhipa.” He thought a moment. “King, is your word, I believe. A great warrior of the king of Hantos. He offended the goddess Mithapuseaona. She tasked him with retrieving a jewel that had been stolen from Her temple. Cursed to never rest until the jewel was restored.

“I never knew my mother and I never saw my father again after he left for his search. When I realized I was also burdened with Her cursing…”

“I’m sorry.”

He grinned, a humorless sort of smirk. “I hold no grudge, lady. It is not the first time I have been impaled.”

Suddenly we were both laughing, his a great shout of mirth, my own helpless giggles rough and grating in my throat. I wiped my face on the rough woolen blanket around my shoulders, sniffing back tears.

Ebrahim was careful to keep my hands in his control at all times, but he helped me dress in one of his shirts and fashion a skirt from one of the blankets. He tended to the wound on the back of my head, murmuring in that strange language when I hissed at the sting.

My boots had been saved and were dry now, as were my stockings. He tied them off, wrapping my legs in more wool against the chill.

We stayed in the cave two more days. At least, I did. He settled me by the coals, snuggly wrapped and tied so I could hardly move. When he returned, he brought provisions and more clothing. Women’s clothing.

I watched him sort this into his pack, freshly warmed by the rebuilt fire.

“Ebrahim, why are you doing this?”

He deftly folded a shirt and tucked it away. “As I see it, the prudent thing would be to kill you.”

My breath caught, half hope, half terror.

“If I were any other man, I would. Yet, is not this the best course of action? To keep you with me, who cannot die, until we find a way to end your suffering?”

I could not believe it. “Why, Ebrahim?”

He did not answer at once, arranging his belongings in silence.

“I have walked this earth for three hundred and forty-two years of my counting. I will admit, many of them I was no more than a madman, raving and lost. I have tried to end this life in countless ways. Yet, there are still things I dare not try. Which leads me to wonder: do I truly wish for death? Or simply freedom?”

He glanced at me. “What do you long for, Nicola?”

The answer was simple. “To be free.”

He nodded, understanding. “Come with me.”

“No.”

“I will keep you safe.”

“I can’t.” I wanted to, for something much more than the curse’s desires. “Please, Ebrahim. I can’t.”

“I will show you marvels, Nicola. Cities as vast as an ocean. Peaks that rend the sky. And, perhaps, a way to release your soul from this torment.”

He said no more, even as I protested and argued. He fed me our evening meal and tucked me carefully against his body, keeping us both warm as a light snow fell outside the cave, muffling even the noise of the river.

In the morning, he gathered his things, settled his pack, and looked down at me. He held out his hand.

I took it.

He was traveling east and south. We passed the steading without entering the gates. I kept my head down, my bound wrists tucked under my cloak. No one recognized me. It hurt, even as it reassured me.

I was not accustomed to the long days of walking. We were forced to wait out winter storms in barns or shepherd’s huts. I was too exhausted to do more than choke down a dry meal and collapse on my bedroll. It was a welcome respite.

But, still, I was helpless to stop it.

I managed to warn him most times, giving him time to duck or scramble out of range. Even with my hands tied I could grasp a heavy stone, a branch, anything to attack him.

He kept me restrained every moment, until one morning after a sleepless night of raving and screams. I could hardly lift my head, but I whimpered as he adjusted the ropes. My wrists were raw and bleeding, the abrasion of the rough cord tearing my skin.

Something burst from his lips, harsh and profane. I watched blankly as he untied me and cast the rope aside. He washed the wounds with snowmelt and dressed them with a stinging paste, wrapping them in clean cloth.

When he finished, I held them up, fingers interlocked. He hesitated, scowling.

“No.”

“You must.”

“No, Nicola.”

I was too tired to fight and let them fall limp to my chest.

After that, he walked behind me. The rope hung ready at his waist. But he did not use it again. Even as I thrashed in his grip, teeth gnashing, blood on my tongue until he gagged me to stop me from further injuring myself.

I learned some of the ancient language he murmured in my ear. Words for ‘softly,’ and ‘safe,’ and ‘beautiful.’

Why did he have to be so gentle, so kind, so perfect? It was only making it worse.

The ocean was magnificent, vast and terrifying. The wind so powerful, it felt it was passing straight through me, whipping around my soul and carrying a part of me away with it.

There were mountains so high they did seem to pierce the sky. Well could I imagine the gods reining in their splendor atop the snow bound peaks. If I braved the perils of such a journey, would they grant me leniency? Reward my efforts, or merely mock my suffering and cast me out to fall endlessly to the earth?

There were places I had no words for. Deserts and jungles, cities so massive I did not believe it until we walked their thronging streets. People of all colors and cultures, smells and tastes, dancing and music. Such beauty and such ugliness, as to make my own suffering seem minuscule.

Ebrahim learned the signs of it and would whisper those precious words. Hold me close, kiss me until I forgot everything but his warmth and weight over me.

“This was my home.”

I stilled, looking back at him. He had stopped on a ridge before a valley city. He looked for long moments, something bitter and helpless in his face.

“This was Hantos,” he said slowly. “It has changed so much…”

I took his hand.

He did not tell me his destination, but I was not surprised when we found the temple to Mithapuseanona a few days later. It was still standing, though the road to it had deteriorated to a rough dirt path over the centuries.

The building was slowly being consumed by the jungle around it. Decayed leaves littered the floor. The once bright paint was worn away, leaving only streaks of color on the frescoes.

There was a statue at the front of the temple. A great Goddess, her hands posed in a strange way. There was a recess in the stone, showing the astonishing size of the gem that had once stood there.

“Raiders,” Ebrahim said into the hush. “They destroyed half the village and pillaged the temple. It was a great ruby, Her Heartstone.” He scowled at the goddess who had caused him so much suffering. “Where it could be after all this time… if it is even in one piece…”

“Ebrahim!”

He twisted, ducking away from the brick in my hands. I staggered past him and slammed the stone into the statue. One of Her arms snapped off and fell to the floor.

“No!” I scrambled for it, grasping it in pleading hands. “Please, no! I did not mean—! Great Goddess, I could not— do not punish him— please, mercy!”

Ebrahim pried my hands from the severed limb and pulled me to his chest.

“It’s not your fault, my love. Don’t cry.”

“Please, please!”

“You warned me, just as you ought. You did well, Nicola. Breathe, lesuna. Breathe, now. Softly, beloved.”

I did, as we had done hundreds of times. Deep, gasping breaths that slowly calmed, filled with the scent and warmth of him around me.

I rested my forehead against his chest, the familiar sound of his heart soothing. Reassuring. Safe.

“There, now. Better?”

I nodded.

“Come, let us find a place to—“

He shoved me behind him, a hiss of warning on his lips. I peered around him and froze.

A tiger glared in at us. I’d seen them in cages, pacing in impotent rage, and had been terrified even protected by steel bars. This one loomed in the opening, its color muted by the greenery around it. Its tail twitched, the only motion in the dappled sunlight.

“Don’t move,” Ebrahim whispered. “Stay behind me.”

I pressed into his back, yet unable to tear my eyes away from the dark pools of the beast’s eyes. We waited in tense silence, long enough for my terror to ebb.

Yet, the tiger did nothing. Just watched us. Finally, Ebrahim made that familiar motion, a hand to his chest, then lips. It had been used to show honor, humility. The tiger gave a huff, then turned and padded away, leaving the doorway clear.

“Hurry.” Ebrahim gripped my arm and tugged me along the wall, stepping up and over fallen stones and encroaching plants.

The beast had not left. It sat further along the path, tail curled around its massive paws. Ebrahim slowed, glancing between the temple and the animal, a furrow between his brows.

The tiger gave another growling sigh and slipped away down the path. Ebrahim hesitated. I could feel the uncertainty in him, tremors of tension that scared me for their foreignness. His quiet surety had carried us over thousands of miles, hundreds of days.

“Follow,” I urged.

“What if it is a trick. A trap.”

I took his hand in both of mine. “I am with you,” I promised.

The track wound deeper into the jungle. Soon, it was no more than a depression in the earth, overgrown with vines and plants. Birds and primates shrieked at us as we toiled. I dared not carry a blade, so could only move rocks and branches as Ebrahim hacked through the denser growth.

The tiger kept ahead of us, always a shadowy figure just beyond our sight. We followed the tracks it left in the mud. The soft rumble of its growl.

After two days, I feared for our supplies. We would run out of water soon and had only a few meals left. But that morning, the tiger’s lead brought us to a tree with strange fruit, then a clear running stream, cold and fresh.

Ebrahim fell silent, a burning intensity in his eyes that I could not quell, no matter how I pleaded. He did not sleep, sitting tense through the night. Even his hands holding me down as I thrashed were strange. I curled up next to him and gave what comfort I could.

Three weeks of this before we came to another stone building. It was larger than the temple had been, but squat and ugly. No carvings, no pillars. What was once a gate stood empty, the beams long rotted away.

Ebrahim stilled, staring up at the facade. His voice broke the hush, hoarse and shaking.

“Impossible.”

He tore away from me, heedless of my warning. I followed more cautiously, wary of beasts and insects in the shadows.

I found him kicking apart rotted wooden chests in an anteroom. He ignored my questions, tearing through each room, searching for something. He spoke in a fevered rush, words I did not know, echoing from the damp-pocked walls.

“Where? Where?” he said, over and over.

I found it by accident. My foot sank through the floor as a trap door gave way beneath my weight. Ebrahim hauled me up, nearly throwing me aside in his haste. He ripped the planks up with his bare hands, blood streaming down his arms unheeded.

He made a torch and thrust it into the gloom below. The flickers showed more chests and sacks, preserved in the cool, still air.

He passed me the torch and climbed down. Even in the uncertain light, I could see his hands shake as he opened each chest, dumping untold riches to the dirt.

He gave a great sob when he found it. I gasped, struck with its beauty. Even in both his hands, it was large, gleaming with a hot, unstoppable fire.

He would not give it to me to aid his climb out of the hole, holding it cradled against his chest. He clutched it hungrily, eyes glittering and fixed. I followed him back into the jungle, pleading with him to rest, to eat and drink.

He had to, succumbing to exhaustion. I sank to the ground next to him as he panted. I managed to get enough dry wood to build a small fire, to cook our meal. He ate mechanically, still silent and staring.

I pried the gem from his hands, whispering those same words of love and reassurance that he had to me countless times. I bundled it away in his pack, promising him it would be safe, that I would guard it with my life.

He did not sleep, restless and rising often to check the gem was still secured.

We walked for hours each day, covering all the ground we had toiled over with ease. That tiger was still with us. I caught flashes of its hide through the vines. I hastily collected water and food, then chased after Ebrahim as he moved mindlessly along the path.

I feared I would have to bind him in turn, to force him to rest. But I welcomed the fatigue. I could do nothing to harm him when I could barely stand myself.

I stumbled into him, he stopped so suddenly. I rubbed my eyes and looked up at the temple once more.

“Nicola.” His voice broke, unused for so many days. I touched his chest, his face.

“I am here.”

“I… I can’t…”

I already had his pack open, pulling out the jewel that had caused him so much pain. I pressed it into his hands.

“Take it. Return it.”

A desperate hunger flamed in his eyes. But he shook his head. “No.”

“You must!”

“Nicola, if I do, if I am mortal once more…”

“You must. I will leave. I will run as far as I can. You must finish this.”

“I cannot live without you.”

I kissed him, the edge of the great ruby sharp on my chest. “I cannot bear you to suffer any longer, my love.”

He pressed his forehead to mine. I pushed him gently toward the statue. “Go.”

“Come with me,” he insisted, gripping my wrist. “Don’t leave. We’ll find a way.”

I wasn’t strong enough to refuse him. We approached the statue, broken and decayed. The stone no longer fit in its appointed place, the hollow misshapen and worn smooth. He placed the gem at the goddess’ feet and bowed his head in prayer.

I added my own, fervent and pleading. Great Goddess, forgive him. Release him.

That wind rose, hot and humid. I shielded my eyes as dirt scratched my face, whipped into a frenzy. It swirled up from the floor, a thunderous clamor. Through watery eyes, I saw him, skin alight as it always was when the Goddess’ power healed him.

For a moment, I could see brilliant frescoes on the walls, gilded ornaments, smell the incense of the acolytes as they worshiped.

The power left him shuddering on the floor and came to examine me.

I stood frozen, helpless as it weighed me, judged me.

Please, I begged. I don’t care what happens to me. As long as he lives.

It was amused, this power of the Goddess. Like the sea breeze, but scorching, it blew through me, cleansing me, carrying pieces of me away.

I could hear Ebrahim’s shouts, see him trying to reach me. His hand closed around mine. The wind swirled up and out of the temple, shaking the leaves as it passed.

We sank to the floor, leaning on each other, gasping for air as the birds shrieked their alarm from the canopy.

He moved first, drawing me to my feet. I shivered, tears spilling down my cheeks. It felt as if my very soul had been wrung dry and left in the hot sun for endless days. Scoured and scrubbed raw.

That tiger waited for us outside. I could not be scared and bowed low before it.

“Thank you.”

Ebrahim raged at it. “All this time! As it lay moldering in a thieves’ horde? Why did you not show me this sooner? Why make me wait?”

It spoke with a quiet hiss. “Did you not find your jewel in the end?”

I blinked and it was gone, flickering away as quickly as a shadow. Ebrahim took deep, gulping breaths next to me. He jerked to face me, gripping my shoulders.

“Is it gone? The curse?”

I reached for his knife, belted at his waist. Drew the well-honed steel. Stared at it, lifeless in my hands.

Nothing.

“It’s gone.”

The knife clattered to the ground as he drew me close, sobbing into my hair. “Thank you, thank you.”

I gripped in equal fervor and asked, “Are you free? Did She release you?”

He nodded, tears dripping from his face to mine. He held me tight for a long time, until his breaths calmed. I wiped his cheeks, then mine.

“What do we do now?”

“Anything we want, my jewel.”

I blushed at the reverence in his voice, somehow different in our new freedom. He gathered up his pack, but did not turn for the city.

“Where are you going?” I demanded, jogging to keep pace.

“There is a fortune in that stronghold,” he reminded me. “You think I plan to wed you without any means to support you?”

I protested, still blushing. He laughed at me and gripped my hand tight in his.