Her Heart, His Curse

The first time Ivy Ashford saw someone die, it was not the death that frightened her. It was the clock. The old clock above the healer's doorway had always been broken. Its hands had been frozen at midnight for as long as Ivy could remember. But on the morning her father died, the hands moved. One minute. Two. Three. Then they stopped. Her father was gone. Ivy was eight years old. She remembered the healer crying. She remembered her mother's trembling hands around hers. She remembered the strange silence that followed when everyone in the room looked at Ivy's bare wrist. Everyone in Elaria was born with a Life Mark. Everyone. A glowing symbol appeared on a person's wrist at birth, followed by a number representing the years they were destined to live. Some people had eighty years. Some had sixty. A few were unlucky enough to receive less. But Ivy had nothing. No glowing symbol. No number. No fate. The villagers called her the Unmarked Girl. Some whispered that she was blessed. Others whispered something much worse. Cursed. Eight years later, Ivy still hated the way people stared at her wrist. She pulled the sleeve of her dress over it as she hurried through the crowded streets of Elaria. The capital was unusually noisy that morning. Royal banners hung from every building, silver and black against the pale winter sky. "The prince is coming!" A child shouted somewhere ahead. Ivy rolled her eyes. Of course. Prince Adrian Ravencrest was coming to the city. The entire kingdom seemed obsessed with him. He was the Crown Prince of Elaria, heir to the throne, admired by nobles and commoners alike. And according to every rumor Ivy had heard, he was dying. She didn't know whether to believe it. She wasn't particularly interested either. Royal problems had nothing to do with her. She had her own problems. Her landlord had raised the rent. Her small bakery stall had barely made enough money that week. And she had exactly three coins left in her pocket. "Wonderful," she muttered. She stopped beside the fountain and counted them again. Three. Still three. "At this rate, I'll be sleeping under the bridge by Friday." "You talk to yourself often?" Ivy nearly dropped the coins. She turned. A young man stood behind her. He was dressed simply, in a dark coat with silver embroidery around the collar. His black hair was slightly messy, as though he'd run his hands through it too many times. He looked about twenty-one. And strangely familiar. Not because Ivy had met him before. Because she'd seen his face on royal posters. Her stomach dropped. The stranger smiled. "You look terrified." "I—" Ivy quickly looked around. No guards. No royal procession. Nothing. She lowered her voice. "You're him." His eyebrow lifted. "Who?" "The prince." His smile disappeared. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then he laughed quietly. "That obvious?" "To anyone who has eyes." "I was hoping for anonymity." "Then perhaps don't walk around looking exactly like the royal portrait." He glanced toward the fountain. "Fair point." Ivy narrowed her eyes. "Why aren't you with your guards?" "Perhaps I don't like guards." "You're a prince. You're supposed to." "Supposed to," he repeated. "That's the problem with being a prince." There was something strange about the way he said it. Not arrogant. Not bitter. Just tired. Ivy studied him. He looked pale. Far too pale. And beneath the collar of his coat, she noticed something. A faint silver glow. His Life Mark. Thirty. The number was barely visible, flickering against his skin. Ivy's breath caught. Thirty years? No. Thirty days. The Life Marks of cursed people were different. Their numbers appeared in red. And his was red. Thirty. The prince noticed her staring. His expression hardened. "You shouldn't have seen that." Ivy looked away immediately. "Seen what?" "Don't." His voice was suddenly cold. The playful stranger from moments ago had disappeared. Ivy stepped backward. "I wasn't going to say anything." "Good." He turned to leave. Then Ivy heard it. A scream. The crowd ahead erupted into chaos. A horse had broken loose from its carriage. People scattered as the animal charged down the street. A little boy stood frozen in the middle of the road. Ivy didn't think. She ran. "Ivy!" She didn't know who shouted her name. She reached the boy just as the horse thundered toward them. She pushed him aside. The horse struck her. Pain exploded through her body. She hit the ground. For several seconds, everything was silent. Then someone shouted. "Get a healer!" Ivy tried to move. Nothing. Her vision blurred. Someone dropped beside her. The prince. Adrian. He lifted her carefully. "Ivy." She stared at him. "You know my name?" "I heard someone call you." "Oh." Her eyes grew heavy. Adrian's face blurred above hers. Then something impossible happened. His Life Mark began to glow. The red number on his wrist flickered. Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven... Then it stopped. Adrian stared at his wrist. His face went completely white. Ivy didn't understand. "What happened?" He didn't answer. Instead, his eyes moved to her wrist. Her sleeve had fallen back. Her bare wrist was exposed. For the first time in her life, Ivy saw fear in the eyes of someone who looked at it. Not disgust. Not pity. Fear. Adrian whispered, "That's impossible." "What?" He grabbed her wrist gently. The moment his fingers touched her skin, a brilliant silver light flashed between them. The entire street fell silent. A symbol appeared on Ivy's wrist. Not a normal Life Mark. It was an intricate circle surrounded by tiny stars. And beneath it... a number appeared. ONE. Adrian's eyes widened. Ivy stared at it in horror. "One what?" He didn't answer. The royal guards finally arrived. They rushed toward Adrian, but he barely noticed them. His attention remained fixed on Ivy. The number on her wrist changed. 365. Then 364. Then 363. Adrian's Life Mark changed at the same time. The red number on his wrist, which had been counting down... began moving upward. Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two. The prince looked at Ivy as though he'd just discovered the answer to a question he'd been asking his entire life. "No," he whispered. Ivy's heart pounded. "What?" Adrian stepped closer. "Every day I gain..." His eyes dropped to her glowing wrist. "...you lose." Ivy's blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?" Before Adrian could answer, a voice came from behind the crowd. An old man stood beneath the shadow of an archway. His eyes were fixed on Ivy. And unlike everyone else... he wasn't surprised. He was smiling. "She has finally awakened." Adrian turned sharply. "Who are you?" The old man disappeared into the crowd. Adrian's guards chased after him. But Ivy could barely breathe. She stared at the strange mark on her wrist. The number continued to fall. 362. 361. 360. And for the first time in eighteen years, Ivy understood something terrifying. She had never been without a destiny. Someone had simply hidden it from her. And whatever was written on her wrist... was connected to the prince who was supposed to die in thirty days. To save him, something inside her had begun to disappear.