Page 113 of Of Curses and Courtship

I make a sound between a scoff and a laugh. “That’s not what I meant! Just that this is all so bittersweet.”

“No. There is no bitterness. It’s only sweet.” She presses her cheek against my shoulder, resting some of her weight on me. “I’m so happy for you, dear friend. This is your happy ending.”

“And you will find yours, too.”

Perhaps hers will appear different. I never imagined my happy ending would look likethis, and now I know that eachperson will have a unique, joyful ending to their story. I can’t wait to see what Helena’s will be.

“Princess Ophelia?” Tibalt’s booming voice comes from outside the door. “May I enter?”

“You may,” I call back.

The door swings open. Tibalt carries a large chest with ease—Mars fae are stronger than the rest, or so I’ve learned. He sets the chest down at the end of the bed, letting out the lightest of grunts.

Helena is suddenly preoccupied with her hair. She weaves strands around her finger and watches Tibalt, her lips parted.

“I’m not a princess,” I say.

“Not yet.” Tibalt grins. “But you will be soon. You should get used to the title.”

“How can I ever?”

“Not my problem.” Tibalt sets his sights on Helena, and his smile grows. “Good morning to you, Miss Helena. Will you be staying here as well?”

“No,” Helena squeaks.

“Uh-huh.” Tibalt winks. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.”

I lift my eyebrows. “Tibalt… if I didn’t know better, I would think you’re here to make eyes at my friend rather than to bring my things in.”

He glares, but there is no malice behind it. “I’ll get the rest of your luggage then, Your Highness.”

Perhaps I could get used to the title after all. “Please, do.”

Helena does not speak until the door is closed. She throws a pillow right at me, letting out a disgruntled sound. “How could you?”

“What?” I fall back on the bed, breathless with laughter. Another pillow hits my face.

“Don’t insinuate anything around that—that—absolute chiseled god of a man!”

“And you shouldn’t insult the gods.”

“Tonotcompare him to the gods would be a greater insult.” Helena sighs and lies down, her head inches from mine. “Do you really think he was making eyes at me?”

“Yes. I do.” I turn to her. “Would you like me to arrange?—”

“No!” She shakes her head profusely. “I have it all under control, thank you very much.”

“It doesn’t seem as if you do.” I tug on her hair. “You can’t even speak around him, and I’ve never known you to be so quiet.”

She buries her face in a pillow and screams. “I despise you.”

“You don’t.”

For the first time in a long time, I’m surrounded by people who love me. Even Helena’s words, claiming to hate me, are still so full of love. I could live like this forever and be quite happy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

OPHELIA