Corwin wheeled himself away from the palace window, wincing at his unofficial title of “The Cursed Prince.” Every day, he came to this window to hear the Voice of the Square, a town crier who relayed news from all over the Kingdom of Emberfall. The news was mostly true, and it appeared to Corwin to be the only way to get news, seeing as his mother protected him fiercely.
Corwin’s origin story as “The Cursed Prince” was old news to most of the kingdom since Corwin had aged 9 years past the incident. However, with the recent entourages of princes vying for Lillian’s hand in marriage, his past and the past of his siblings were being stirred up again.
In all honesty, Corwin wasn’t sure that his sister Lillian, past the typical age to be courted, even wanted a husband. Nonetheless, her refusals had drawn the attention of smaller kingdoms, who believed their prince would be “the one” she fell in love with.
As Corwin moved his wheelchair away from the lone window and back toward his room, he spotted Lillian sitting at the end of his bed, waiting for him.
“You weren’t listening to the Voice of the Square again, were you?” Lillian asked. Corwin shrugged, feeling a familiar irritation rise. He despised how his sister often felt the need to manage him as if being a cripple meant he couldn’t make his own decisions. It wasn’t as if he had the freedom to roam the palace and keep up with what was happening in the kingdom. He couldn’t reach many of the floors, and his mother ‘protected’ him from any meetings that may cause him mental distress.
“How else am I supposed to get news?” Corwin asked irritably. “Mother won’t let me hear what the town says, but don’t I have a right to know? Especially when it’s about me?”
Lillian gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “Mother’s just trying to protect you. She thinks you can hold your head higher at public events if you’re not weighed down by what people say behind your back.”
“What good does that do?” Corwin fumed, his voice rising. “How can I participate in public events if I can’t even handle a few rumors?”
He wheeled himself over to the bedside, locking his chair in place. As he struggled to lift himself onto the bed, a maid, standing quietly in the corner, rushed to assist him. She propped him under her shoulder and gently helped him settle onto the bed.
“I didn’t need help!” Corwin roared, his frustration spilling over. The maid, unfazed, returned to the corner, trying to become as invisible as possible.
“That was really rude,” Lillian said, disapproval etched on her face. “Lora was just doing her job.”
“I don’t need help,” Corwin snapped. “I can manage on my own.”
“And what would happen if Mother walked in and saw Lora not helping you?” Lillian countered, her tone firm.
Shame replaced Corwin’s anger. He’d gotten more than one maid fired for following his wishes to do it himself over his mother’s orders to ensure the prince was never in pain. Any time the Queen, Corwin’s mother, spotted a maid whom she believed let her son suffer, that maid was fired, and another would take over.
“I just want to do it myself,” Corwin muttered, his defiance tinged with despair. He glanced up at Lillian. “Doesn’t anyone know what it’s like? To be in constant pain but never get better? To not even be able to use magic to heal?” He lowered his head, muttering, “To be cursed?”
Lillian’s gaze softened. “No one can fully understand your struggle, Corwin. But you can understand theirs. Lora is helping you because those are Mother’s orders, not yours. Shouting at her won’t change that, and I’m sure it makes her day miserable.”
Corwin clenched his fists, feeling helpless. “What would help, then? I’m getting worse every day, trapped in this chair with no hope of improvement.”
“Yelling won’t solve anything,” Lillian said diplomatically. Corwin stared at his fists—pale, frail, barely more than skin stretched over bone. He wanted to punch something, to feel control over something in his life. But he knew he couldn’t.
“So, why are you here?” he asked, trying to shift the focus. “Surely there are better places to be than in my room.”
Lillian stood. “Yes, there are better places. Which is why I think you should join me.”
Corwin groaned. “I’m not going to the library again. I’m not as smart as you. I can barely read as it is.”
Lillian smiled. “Actually, I was thinking of somewhere different. The palace has a new physician.”
Corwin rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Lillian? How many physicians have I seen? None of them have helped.”
“This one’s different,” Lillian said, her tone earnest. “He works with soldiers from the front lines. I think you should see for yourself. I know you won’t believe me otherwise.”
Corwin’s hands tightened on the armrests of his chair. “What makes you think I’ll even go?”
“Because you’re curious,” Lillian replied simply. “And besides, Mother doesn’t want you to see him. Isn’t that enough of a reason to be intrigued?”
Corwin hesitated. His mother was fiercely protective, especially after the string of failed healers. She had hidden many things from him, claiming it was for his own good. But this? Why would she care if he saw another physician when neither of them believed in miracles anymore?
“Why are you telling me this if Mother doesn’t want me to know?” Corwin asked cautiously.
“Because I want you to get better!” Lillian groaned, exasperated. “Or at least, I want to help. Mother’s given up. Father’s still grieving. But I see you, Corwin.” Lillian’s soft gaze looked into Corwin’s eyes, and for a moment, he believed her. “I see how hard you fight every day,” Lillian continued. “You are more than just your chair or your unofficial title just as I am more than a beauty.
“‘The Bright Jewel of the Kingdom,’” Lillian scoffed. “I am much more than a pretty face, and I believe you are much more than a prince with a curse, Corwin. I tell you about the physician because I think you should try anything that might help—even if it only helps a little. And if it doesn’t work, maybe we can help you cope better. I’m not giving up on you, little brother. Ever.”
Tears pricked Corwin’s eyes. Most of his family saw him as an inconvenience, but Lillian always took the time to watch over him. But even then, he wasn’t sure he could live up to Lillian’s belief in him.
“I think you’re placing your hope in the wrong person,” Corwin muttered, tears spilling onto his sheets. “I’m not going to get better, Lilly. I accepted that a long time ago. No one can help me.”
Lillian’s eyes blazed. “So you’ll just give up? Lie here in misery?”
“I don’t have a choice!” he shouted, tears streaking down his face.
“You always have a choice, Corwin,” Lillian shouted back. Then, she softened her tone. “Your fight, your perseverance—that’s what makes you who you are, little brother. That’s what makes you Corwin. I don’t want to see you lose yourself to bitterness over the so-called ‘curse.’”
Corwin wiped the tears from his cheeks, his voice quiet. “What’s so different about this physician?”
Lillian looked at her brother, so saddened in his misery. “You’ll have to see for yourself.” When Corwin raised his head to argue, Lillian continued firmly. “I know how you operate, Corwin. You will not trust what you do not see. I can tell you are not ready to accompany me today, but the new physician spends most of his time in the veteran’s center whenever you are ready. Father allowed the physician to convert part of your old study, seeing as you hardly use it. Mother was furious, but Father saw some promise in this physician. He’s helping the soldiers recover much faster than any before.”
“At least the room’s being used,” Corwin murmured, already feeling the pull of curiosity.
Lillian smiled. “I knew you’d be intrigued. Let me know what you think of the physician, even if you don’t stay long.”
“And what makes you think I’ll go?” he shot back. He didn’t like that Lillian was able to assume so much about him so accurately.
“Because, little brother, you’re the most curious person I’ve ever met. Nothing will satisfy you until you’ve seen it for yourself.”
With that, she left the room, leaving Corwin alone with his thoughts.
B.R. Quinn 