Chapter 2: To fight…or to lose a hand

Up close, the man’s stinking breath wafted over Annalise like a miasma from rotting garbage. His worn leather vest had several deep scratches, and there were several dark stains on his pants that looked like blood. 

“Let me go. You don’t know what you risk by being near me,” she said. She tried to yank her arm away, but he held on with an iron grip. 

“You think I don’t know who you are, Princess?” The man’s laugh sent a shiver of icy fear down Annalise’s spine. “No, I’ve heard plenty of tales about your curse. The ability to kill someone with merely a touch makes you quite a powerful lady. I know of several people who would pay nicely for such an ability.”

“I said let me go,” Annalise repeated.

“I will, eventually.” He smiled widely, revealing a mouth full of broken and missing teeth. “But first I think I’m going to take something of yours. Perhaps a finger… no, a hand. It should stay fresh long enough for me to find a buyer.” 

“I’m warning you one last time. If you don’t let me go, you will dearly regret it.” 

“You don’t scare me, little princess. I’ll just take what I need and then I’ll be on my way.” The man jerked her to the side, where several dirty boxes were stacked haphazardly at the edge of the alley. While he scanned the wall, Annalise undid one of the ties of her mask with her free hand. When he turned back to look at her, she tried to scratch and claw at his face, but her glove rendered her efforts useless. He shoved her away, then wrenched her back, stepping in front of her and stretching her arm over the top of the barrel and pinning it under his. She cried out at the pain in her shoulder. Her mask fell free. 

Annalise was running out of time and despite her hatred of her curse, she couldn’t think of an alternative. As he drew a long, chipped dagger from a holster at his side and raised it over her arm, Annalise gathered as much saliva as she could muster and spat. 

Her spit arced through the air and landed on his cheek. The skin underneath immediately turned a bright red, and then a purple rash spread outwards. Her assailant flinched and shouted, then dropped his dagger and wiped off the spit. 

“I’ll pay you back for that. You won’t get away so easily, and now I know your curse is so powerful I’ll be sure to take plenty of samples,” he growled and pulled another knife from his belt. 

When the man returned his focus to her trapped arm, Annalise lifted her free hand to her mouth and pulled off her glove. She wasn’t sure if it was carelessness on his part, or if he’d just disregarded the rumors of her curse, but his sleeves were loose and his arms otherwise unprotected. As he lifted his knife above his head, she reached out with her now-ungloved hand towards the hand holding his knife. A simple brush of her skin against his would have been enough to stop him, but she wouldn’t take any chances.

She grabbed his wrist and forced him to drop the knife, ignored his yell, and then contorted her body to claw at his face again, gouging scratches from his temple down to his chin. The effect was immediate; he howled in pain and stepped away from her, clutching his face with his good hand, the hand she’d touched tucked into his side. Red streaks appeared over his wrist and raced up his arm, followed by deep purple bruising and then black veins that formed spiderwebs under his skin. His face was rapidly getting worse; within seconds it was fully purple, then the skin started to turn black and disintegrate, floating into the air like when someone punched a dusty pillow. He only had a chance for a few inhuman screams before the curse reached his throat, leaving him with only a few gargles and wheezes before he finally lay still.

It had been several years since Annalise had last seen her curse in full effect. She’d long prayed that she would never need to see it again, but as she watched the stranger fall to the ground, his body crumbling in front of her eyes, and thought of his evil intentions, for the first time she wondered if perhaps her curse could also be a blessing. 

She shook herself as the curse finished working on the corpse, leaving behind a blackened and charred form burnt beyond any recognition. The air was dusty, but there was no smell or any other indication of their struggle. 

Shouts from the market square broke Annalise’s focus, and the full realization of what had just happened hit her along with an overwhelming wave of nausea. She turned to the alley and emptied her stomach, leaning against the dingy wooden wall of the building like it was a lifeline in a stormy sea. Even well after her stomach was empty, she spent an additional minute dry heaving, as if that would help expel the memory of the man’s odious breath, his hands on her, and his last screams. 

Once she was finally done, she picked her mask up from the ground and struggled to catch her breath. 

“Your Highness, what happened?” Priscilla asked from behind her. 

Annalise jumped and turned, clutching her mask in her hand like it was some type of token to ward off bad luck. Priscilla’s eyes widened as she took in the scene in the alley, from Annalise’s unmasked face to her ungloved hand to the corpse. 

“Are you okay?” the concern in Priscilla’s voice was clear, and she stepped towards Annalise, but stopped immediately when Annalise raised her bare hand. 

“Stay back for a moment, please.” She tried to lift her mask to her face, but her hands were trembling so much she didn’t trust herself to hold it in place and instead set it to the side to pick up her glove from the ground. “This man assaulted me. Not only that, but he knew of who I was and he attempted to cut off my hand so he could attempt to sell my cursed ability to the highest bidder. To stop him, I was forced to use my curse and the results are what you see in front of you.” Annalise finished donning her glove and straightened her dress before patting her hair to make sure it was still in place. Thankfully, her curse didn’t extend to her hair, although she usually kept it braided and up just in case.

“Oh, Princess Annalise,” Priscilla said, her voice breaking as if she’d been the one threatened. 

Annalise held out her mask to Priscilla with a rueful smile. “Would you mind helping me with this? I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid my hands won’t stop shaking.” 

To her credit, Priscilla didn’t hesitate. She took the mask from Annalise, positioned it on her face, and then tied the ends behind her ears. 

“What will we do about the body?” Priscilla asked. 

“We’ll wait for the guards to come back, tell them what happened, and then let them deal with it.” 

“Are you sure? The king will surely hear about this.” 

“I’m positive,” Annalise said firmly, “there is no chance we can dispose of the body as we are, and if we try to cover it up or just leave it, word will get out eventually. I don’t want to cause panic if rumors arise that there’s another cursed one in the town. This way, everyone will know it was only me.” 

“Some will be afraid of you, even more than they are now.” 

“It can’t be helped.” Annalise looked directly at the charred corpse. “If that man had been more afraid of me, he would still be alive now. Perhaps he can serve as a lesson to anyone else who may wish to use me for their own gain.” 

Priscilla moved to her side and stared down at the body as well. She nudged it with her foot, then shuddered when pieces broke off like a clod of dry dirt. “Surely you don’t think there will be more, do you?” 

“I hope not… but I’ve also hoped for years that someone would rid me of this curse, and I fear that sometimes hope can only go so far.” 

Priscilla looked like she was about to say something else, but heavy footsteps turning the corner of the alley announced the arrival of their guards. Princess Annalise drew herself up to her full height and prepared to have a very difficult afternoon.