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- Herausgeber: Dragonfire Press
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Serie: Fated & Cursed
- Sprache: Englisch
A god who thought he was owed and the princess who dared to deny him.
Cassandra, the princess of Troy, lives a life of privilege and luxury few can fathom. When her beauty and cunning catch the eye of Apollo, the god of prophecy, he lavishes her with gifts, the greatest among them being the ability to see the future. But her dreams of being a powerful seer soon become nightmares when she denies him what he truly desired all along: Her body, and not her mind.
Enraged by her refusal, Apollo inflicts the cruelest of punishments: To speak the truth but never be believed. Not long after, visions of her beloved city burning to the ground torment Cassandra. But when she tries to warn the king and queen of the utter decimation that will befall Troy should her brothers Paris and Hector envoy to Sparta, it falls on deaf ears.
As war erupts and rages on for a decade, the Greeks relentlessly seek to reclaim Helen, the stolen queen and Paris's ill-fated prize. With each passing year, Cassandra's warnings grow more desperate, her isolation more profound. Branded a lunatic, she teeters on the edge of madness, fighting to save her people from the doom she knows is coming.
Set during the Trojan War, The Princess and the Prophecy is a retelling of the downfall of Troy through Cassandra’s eyes, and a closer look at all women who are forced to sacrifice to the egos of men.
While not used gratuitously, attempted SA, violence, torture, and infanticide are present in this retelling of Cassandra’s story. If you are sensitive to any of these triggers, please read with caution.
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Seitenzahl: 131
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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The Princess and the Prophecy
Cursed: Cassandra
Kerri Keberly
Copyright © 2024 by Kerri Keberly
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written consent of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations for the purpose of reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form without the express permission of the publisher.
Cover design by Keith Robinson
Contents
Cassandra smiled as she pulled back the string of her bow and aimed the tip of an arrow at a tree. It wasn’t customary for women to learn archery, but she was a princess, the daughter of King Priam and Queen Hecuba of Troy, and so she was allowed to bend the rules, especially on her eighteenth name day.
The bow, crafted of sturdy maple and coveted by many a soldier in the Trojan army, had been a gift. Cassandra was accustomed to receiving such fine things from her father’s people, but the bow had not been from just anyone.
“Steady now,” called out the man standing next to the tree. “Close one eye if you must.” The man was striking in appearance, tall and lean-muscled, with burnished curls that shined brightly, even in the dim light of the forest.
It was no wonder they did. He who stood before her was no man, but Apollo, the God of Sun and Light, holding domain over many things, including archery. The bow had been his gift to Cassandra on her sixteenth name day.
Determined to keep both eyes open this time, she zeroed in on a particularly large knot in the bark and let loose her arrow. It pierced through the rough outer layer and sunk deep into the heart of the tree. She lowered her bow, sending Apollo a triumphant grin.
“A fluke,” he teased, shaking his head in amusement at her capricious nature as he pulled the arrow out as easily as though he were plucking fruit.
Cassandra’s heart danced in her chest, her cheeks warming at the display of raw power. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to possess some of it. Alas, she had not been born a goddess, and suspected the reason the god of music and dancing and poetry favored her was for her beauty, certainly, but more importantly, her cleverness.
“Perhaps I shall go again,” shouted Cassandra, “to prove you wrong.” She withdrew another arrow from the quiver strapped to her back. She felt brave enough to cajole the god in this way. He’d been visiting her for two years, after all.
Though many months had passed, she remembered their first encounter like it was the day before. It had been a lovely morning, much like this one, sunny and mild, with a slight breeze to lift the ends of her dark mahogany hair. She and her twin brother, Helenus, had been practicing shooting arrows at this very spot. After a few hours, her brother had gone in search of bread and cheese to fill his growling belly, but Cassandra had stayed behind, shooting her arrows until blisters formed on her fingers. She had always been headstrong, and she was determined to surpass her brother’s naturally good marksmanship.
Now, she nocked an arrow on the very same bow Apollo had given her that day, ready to take aim, when a vision of Helenus approaching from behind flashed in her mind’s eye. On her seventeenth name day, Apollo had given her the gift of foresight. Thanks to her, Helenus had received it as well.
“I see your aim has gotten better,” her brother shouted from afar.
She lowered her bow at the sound of his voice, whirling around and pretending to be startled.
Helenus chuckled. “There is no need for show, sister. Not with our minds. How do you think I knew you would be here? Besides, I was noisier than a wild boar barging through the brush.”
“It was not a difficult thing to know,” she replied, a bit indignant. She loved Helenus dearly, but things had always come easy to him. He’d been born a boy, affording him more liberties than her from the moment they left the womb. It irked her at times like this, when he patronized her. “I always come here on our name day.”
What she did not say aloud was she always came on this day, to this spot, to receive whatever gift Apollo would bestow upon her. He would appear at other times, of course, but meeting here on her name day had become a tradition so he could give her a gift. It had been the bow first, followed by foresight the next year. She was anxious to know what her eighteenth name day gift would be.
Some days she wondered if she should have kept the foresight to herself instead of sharing it. She’d agreed to accept it on the condition that her twin would receive the same. She didn’t know why she’d done it, but it wasn’t for Helenus’s sake, that much she knew. She supposed she’d done it to see how far Apollo would go, and exactly how much of his divine power she could talk him into giving her.
But, at times like this, when Helenus made it difficult to ever be alone, she regretted it.
Cassandra glanced back at the tree where Apollo had been standing. The arrow stuck out of its thick trunk, but, as always when anyone else approached unexpectedly, the god had vanished. Apollo only showed himself to her, which was an honor she cherished, but it made her behavior seem rather strange to the others, even Helenus at times. For all the foresight he possessed, he had no idea it was because she was favored by Apollo.
As close as they were, she didn’t think Helenus could suspend such disbelief. She’d tried broaching the subject once, and although he agreed their gift was divine, he refused to acknowledge that it had been bestowed upon them because his sister had caught the eye of the God of Prophecy himself. He or her parents or her maid would see her talking to herself often, but they could not fathom she could be conversing with the divine.
She had tried to explain this many times, that she was favored by one of the very gods who built their city’s impenetrable walls, but they all chose to believe she simply had the wildest of imaginations. This seemed strange to Cassandra, especially given that her own mother was said to sometimes have prophetic dreams.
“It’s a good thing archers rely on their eyes and not their ears, dear brother,” replied Cassandra, dismissing the thought and hoping her remark was enough of a segue. “What brings you out here to interrupt my practice?”
The smile dropped from his face. She hated when her brother went serious like this. It meant only one thing.
“I’ve come to ask if you’ve seen him,” he replied.
Cassandra swallowed hard, knowing the man her brother spoke of. The shepherd. The one on his way to the festival their father hosted each year. The one who looked so much like their older brother Hector that they, too, could be twins.
“Yes,” she said, barely audible. Suddenly, her eyes glazed as a vision overtook her mind. The way the shepherd laughed with his traveling companions, free and easy and heartily. Though it didn’t happen as often now that he had grown older, this was the way their father laughed.
Without warning, the vision of the young man switched to their mother, sweaty from labor. She cried as she held a newborn baby, but they were not tears of joy. Anguish crumpled her features as she stroked a shock of dark hair before a nursemaid whisked the baby away.
Cassandra blinked away both the tears and the vision. One look at Helenus’s wide eyes and furrowed brow and she knew he’d seen it, too. She and Helenus had heard the stories whispered among the palace maids of a stillborn baby who had come only a few years before her and Helenus’s birth, and how Hecuba did not leave her rooms for months.
“He lives,” she whispered. “Our brother lives.”
The sun had gone down and the palace had settled into sleep long ago, but Cassandra lay awake, her troubled mind racing. Why had her mother and father given away their child? Did he know he was a prince of Troy? Is that why he makes his way to the festival? Why had Apollo not visited? Was he angry with her?
She stared into the darkness of her room, scouring memories of the day and going over all she’d said and done in the hope of discovering some offence she had committed. Apollo could be unpredictable in his moods, but he had never simply abandoned her like this before. If anything, it seemed she had grown more endeared to him with each time he came to her, which had been more and more often over the past year. The way he smiled fondly and playfully bantered with her certainly seemed to suggest he would not be put off so easily.
She shivered under the layers of her night gown. The other thing that kept her from sleep was the visions that her and Helenus had shared. Unlike Cassandra, Helenus didn’t have them often, and they were usually something harmless and trivial, like what would be served for the evening meal.
Unease had been swirling in her belly ever since her brother had come to her in the wood earlier that day. They had both found the visions to be ominous, but where she wanted to confront their parents, Helenus was unwilling to broach the subject with them, instead begging her to keep what they had seen to themselves.
“We should not meddle in the affairs of the gods, sister,” he’d said as they had made their way back to the palace. She’d wanted to stay, but Helenus had been so shaken there would have been no way she could have remained in the woods to wait for Apollo without raising suspicion.
“There must be a reason for it,” he’d continued. “If mother and father notice the resemblance, so be it, but we should stay out of it. You see the looks of reproach they give you when you behave so strangely.”
“I told you,” Cassandra had snapped in reply, “Apollo speaks to me.”
“I believe you,” he’d said, raising his eyebrows at her. “But no one else does. They see you as seeking attention.”
Cassandra folded her arms to cover up the sting of hurt she felt at the truth. “Is that how you see it?”
“Not anymore,” he had said, shaking his head vigorously. “I now know the gift we’ve inherited from our mother is both a blessing and a curse. It was amusing before, when all I saw made sense and was harmless.”
Cassandra didn’t agree with keeping quiet about what they’d seen. The shepherd was their long-lost sibling, cast aside for reasons unknown, but seeing how unsettled it made Helenus, she had promised not to say a word.
The festival was to begin in two days. Perhaps when her parents saw this man who bore the features of so many of Priam’s sons at the games, they would make the connection on their own, rejoice and welcome him back into the fold with open arms, and neither Cassandra nor Helenus need point it out.
She yawned, her mind finally slowing enough for her lids to grow heavy.
Like tinder catching fire, a light suddenly flared to life, breaking through the darkness of sleep. Had morning come so soon? Cassandra groaned at the thought, burrowing deeper into her bed. She hadn’t gotten nearly enough rest to face the day of overthinking that awaited her.
A shudder rippled through her, bringing her senses into sharper focus. The chill of night still hung in the air, and the crickets still chirped outside her window. Her skin prickled, and when the hazy reddish glow behind her still closed eyelids pulsed, as though it were keeping time with a beating heart, she knew morning had not come. It was something—someone—else.
“Cassandra,” came a voice. It was rich in timber and smooth in pitch, and one she knew well by now.
Her eyes flew open, and there, standing at the foot of her bed, bathed in light, was Apollo. She sat up, eager to ask what had taken him so long, why he had waited until now to appear, but he glowed so radiantly she remained silent, instead lifting her hand to shield her eyes.
The tunic he wore was different, shorter, and she couldn’t keep her gaze from sweeping over his broad chest down to his strong bared thighs and back to his languid smile. She had seen him smile many times before, but there was something in the way the edges of it curled higher on one side that made her breath quicken. And his eyes, they seemed darker, peering at her through half closed lids so intensely it made her cheeks warm.
She had always thought him pleasing, but as a brother, even a father figure. The way he looked at her now was not how a brother looked at a sister, or a father at a daughter, and she was ashamed how her body responded to his smoldering gaze.
“I’ve come to give you your gift,” he said, moving toward her.
Her palms went slick with sweat when she glanced down at his hands only to find there was nothing in them. No arrows for her bow. No musical instrument to learn. Not even a pristine white calf from his herd of divine cattle.
Perhaps he intended to recite a poem he had written especially for her?
Her heart pounded in her ears, and her breath hitched when he sat on the edge of her bed. They had been this close before, but never in such an intimate setting. He had always visited her in the daylight, never once in the darkness of her room.
She swallowed hard. She knew what happened between men and women in the dark.
“What is it?” she asked, trying to keep the quaver from her voice.
He laughed, low and amused. “Me.”
“You?” she replied. “I don’t understand.”
“I think you understand perfectly well what I mean, Cassandra.” The tone of his voice was not harsh, but the reproach in it was clear.
He had never spoken to her this way, with the air between them charged with something so unfamiliar, and it frightened her.
