The Pandora Curse (Greek Myth Series Book 4) (2 page)

One

Chaos swept the land as Vara the Conqueror’s shadow fell upon the earth. The troops of Corinth surrendered or ran off, as the dark-haired woman urged her men forward to capture their king. Her men of war held the ruler steady as Vara clenched her bow and arrow tightly in her grip. Her horse shifted nervously beneath her, feeling her own anticipation. She could no longer ignore the Furies echoing their cries of temptation and ill-fated advice in her brain.

Kill the king
, they sang out, for only her to hear.

Claim your rightful throne
.

You are powerful, and they will all know it by this act
.

The voices were of the three temptress women born from the blood of Cronos. They were supposed to torment those who had done wrong. But things were not as they should be, ever since her great-grandmother Pandora opened the box. Now the Furies urged mankind to
do
wrong and did not stop until the victim had either abided or gone insane.

Their persuasive suggestions had grown stronger lately. It was getting harder and harder to push them from her mind. She was a conqueror, but this was a fight she would never win. The Pandora Curse had plagued her since the day she was born. Her life stopped being her own from the moment she’d taken her very first breath.

Damn Zeus for creating her great-grandmother Pandora in vengeance of the Titan, Prometheus. And damned was she and every one of her ancestors who had been birthed from the womb of trickery and deceit. Innocence had once dwelled within Vara’s soul, just like it had in Pandora’s. But innocence hath no voice, when the evil hissing of the Furies drove it away.

She knew only one way to stop the voices. She had to surrender to them, give in to their ways, and then they would leave her to suffer and shake until they thought to torment her once again.

She raised her bow and readied the arrow. Her fingers shook uncontrollably as she pulled back the string.

Yes. Listen to us.

The king of Corinth deserves to die
.

Kill him and you will rule as the great nation’s queen
.

The Furies’ words stroked painful fingers against her brain, and a coldness enveloped her soul. Innocence pushed aside, she felt the vice of hatred swell and grow in her breast. Sweat beaded her palms and forehead. Then nausea gripped at her belly, and the saliva on her tongue soured.

Do it,
they commanded.

You must do what we say
.

“Leave me alone,” she muttered softly. “Please. Just leave me be.”

Kill the king and we’ll give you solace
.

The tormenting was too strong. Heed the curse or be driven mad. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and prepared to release the bowstring. Her heart begged her not to continue, but her mind warned her the taunting would only grow stronger if she did not obey.

Slowly, she released the air from her lungs, and with it her last hope of avoiding taking an innocent life. Painfully, her eyes opened to look at the helpless king one last time, but when she did, her gaze settled on someone else. Standing on the ground in front of her horse was a small child, watching with horror spread across her face.

“Please don’t kill him,” begged the little girl, not more than six years of age. “He is my father.”

Memories flooded Vara’s brain of her own childhood. Of how she’d lost her beloved father at an age slightly older than this. The little girl’s bright blue eyes burned into her, hotter than the fires of Tartarus.

A nursemaid lunged for the little girl, pulling her away from Vara. “Please, don’t harm her, my lady. She has not a mother. I beg you to forgive her for not knowing any better.”

Vara lowered the bow, feeling a heaviness in her heart, as well as an aching in her head. She looked back to her men, holding the king at bay, urging her to continue.

“My lady,” came the voice of her captain of the guard, Zetes, next to her. “Why do you hesitate to kill him?”

Her gaze went from the bedraggled king, back to his little daughter. The nursemaid cried, but the child just kept staring at her with those haunting eyes. Vara looked down to notice her hands shaking, and bit hard at her bottom lip. What was she doing? She needed to push these feelings aside and kill the king and be done with it already. An image of her mother’s face full of hatred took precedence in her mind. A woman consumed by jealousy and anger, enough to kill her own husband.

Vara, at one time, was just like this little child. But now, she was naught more than the manifestation of every bad thing that plagued the earth. Darkness was no longer trapped in a box guarded by Titans. Now it had found a new home - within her soul.

Kill him. Do it now
, coaxed the Furies, activating the vice of hatred spawned within her.

Kill the king. Then the child
.

The urge to kill was strong within her, but the child’s eyes locked on her were even stronger.

“Stop!” Vara screamed to the voices in her head. She threw her bow and arrow to the ground in disgust. “I will not bend to your will.”

“My lady?” asked Zetes in question.

Vara tried to deflect the curious, anxious stares of soldiers and prisoners. This was no way for a warrior to act. She knew she was shaking like a virgin on her wedding night, and did not fancy feeling foolish in front of her army. Nor her captives. She was Vara the Conqueror, and though it resonated badly within the walls of Corinth, it was all she had left in this life. No one admired a woman gone mad. But a conqueror with restless fury in her veins was admired by all.

“Take the king and the rest of the prisoners to the dungeon while I seize my throne,” she instructed Zetes from atop her horse. “Then see to the captured women and children and set them to work in the kitchens. I am famished.”

“Aye, Queen Vara.” The burly man bowed his dark head and stepped away. Two more of her men escorted the nursemaid and little girl across the courtyard.

“Queen,” she repeated under her breath and adjusted her helmet atop her head. “Queen Vara,” she said louder, liking the way it sounded. She had conquered many a land and people, but never gained anything but reputation before today. Perhaps a royal title and gold in her hand was what she needed to turn her life in a different direction.

The king of Corinth was her prisoner now, banned to the dungeon until she decided if she needed him to further her success. Either way, she held the rights to the throne of Corinth. Now that she was a powerful queen, the Furies would leave her alone. Life would be better. “Queen,” she repeated, testing them, challenging them to invade her thoughts. All was silent in her head. She nodded, feeling success.

“Queen of the Underworld sounds admirable compared to queen of discord and deceit,” came a deep masculine voice from behind her.

She pulled on the reins and guided her horse around to find a man standing calmly in the midst of the chaotic courtyard. Tall and handsome, his long, taupe hair fell loose around his shoulders. He wore a full length purple cape fringed with peacock feathers over a black tunic with flowing sleeves. Under the tunic he sported dark hose upon his legs. Her gaze latched onto something glittering in the sunlight dangling from a leather cord around his neck. A crystal orb. Excitement coursed through her. She wanted it.

“Are you insulting Vara the Conqueror?” she asked in challenge. “I could have you flayed and quartered for such an insolent tongue.” Her eyes remained on the crystal.

She motioned to two of her guards to seize him, but when they saw him, they stepped away.

“Queen Vara,” said one, “I don’t think you realize who this man is.”

“I don’t care who he is, I want him locked away.”

“But, he is very powerful,” stated the other. “I advise you not to try to harm him.”

“I don’t take advice from soldiers,” she retorted, then brought her attention back to the stranger.

He didn’t look regal nor powerful. But he did hold an air of mystery about him. Something in his gaze, his stance, his lack of fear, and his calm confidence gained her interest. She lowered herself from her horse, never taking her eyes off him. With a nod, she dismissed her soldiers and returned her attention to the newcomer.

“My men may be frightened, but I fear no one. Not even the most powerful of kings.”

“I am not a king,” he told her. “And though you speak bravely, I see something conflicting within your eyes. I think you do fear someone. And I’d wager that person is yourself.”

Vara’s heart jumped in her chest at his proclamation, and with warrior reflexes, she drew the sword from the scabbard on her back and held it to his throat.

His eyes remained fastened upon her face, and he didn’t even flinch.

“Beg my forgiveness,” she demanded, “or I’ll be forced to slit your throat.”

“Forced?” A slow grin spread across his face. “You may act with force, but even the hatred in your heart would not let you kill me before you know who I am.”

Her hand trembled, and though slightly, she knew he had not missed her reaction. Who was this man? How could he know so much about her when she’d made sure to keep her personal life well guarded from all? The man intrigued her.

“I told you, I don’t care who you are,” she said, continuing the talk of a warrior. She would not let him see any signs of weakness. “If I want you dead, you’ll be dead in a matter of seconds.”

“Want,” he repeated, echoing her word. “I wonder if you really know what you want. Matter of fact, I’d be willing to say, you want everything, yet nothing suffices the greed that fills your heart.”

Vara’s throat tightened, and it was all she could do not to close her eyes, willing his words away so they would not stab at her heart. He spoke as if he could see clear through to her soul. The secrets, the pain, the passion. As if her eyes were windows to the past, present, and future all at once, and he could look right through them.

For the last five and twenty years Vara had lived a misleading life, wondering as to whom she really was. With the haunting voices of the demonic Furies invading her head, she no longer was sure of anything. After so long, she’d nearly forgotten her own identity. Being plagued by the curse had made her the warrior, the conqueror, the mad woman she’d become. This man spoke words of wisdom. He was correct in saying nothing ever fulfilled her. She kept her eyes fastened on him, wanting to hear more of what he had to say, even if his words were disrespectful.

He was so bold in the face of danger. How could he be so brash? She felt the power of her ancestors’ curiosity pumping furiously through her veins. Sometimes she wondered if her curiosity was a vice. She had to know more about him.

“No one speaks that way to Vara the Conqueror and lives to tell about it.”

He didn’t react to her words. The man was hard to frighten. No one had ever stood at the end of her blade as confident as he.

“You will not kill me,” he said as if he had no doubt. His words were an order rather than optimism.

Kill him for his insolence
.

Make him suffer
.

Show him you are queen.

To her dismay, the Furies had returned. She could do nothing but listen.

“Yes, I will kill you.” Her mouth spoke the words she was used to, but something inside begged her to spare his life.

“I can see the future,” he told her. “You will not kill me because your curiosity is so overwhelmed that you would do anything just to find out who I am.”

“You lie. No one can see the future but the gods. Lie again and I will run my blade through your heart just to stop the idle chatter that flows from your mouth.”

“My lady,” whispered her steward Zetes, returning to her side. “You have just sworn to kill the soothsayer Nikolai.”

“Soothsayer?” Her brow raised and she lowered the tip of her blade. If he was a soothsayer, he wouldn’t try to physically hurt her. Still, she could not trust him. A test was in order. Her free hand shot out for his crystal orb, but he stopped her in mid-motion. His grip was firm, but at the same time gentle. The heat of his hand grew hotter as he closed his fingers over hers. A tingle flitted over her skin, and excitement rose in her body.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t see that coming?” His voice was low and deep.

“Do you really think you are stopping me with your weak grip?”

She yanked her hand back and tried to wipe his essence off it. But the more she rubbed her hand against her clothes, the more his scent of sandalwood and spruce clung to her, filling her senses.

“I can see the future,” Nikolai told her once again.

“No,” she protested, shaking her head in denial. “I do not believe it.”

She needed to be cautious. This man was very mysterious. She had just conquered the kingdom of Corinth, and she had to remind herself that he could have been sent to distract her while enemies surrounded the premises, unseen. With a wave of her hand, she directed her sentries to close the gates.

“Ever since the day Epimetheus trapped foresight into Pandora’s box, no one has been able to know what will happen,” she continued.