Page 36 of Of Curses and Courtship

Seeing him here, no longer in the dim tavern but surrounded by shadows and gold, I can’t believe this is his home. I suppose it fits his sullen nature, but he still speaks to me of adventure, magic, and mischief. Perhaps that can no longer be the case, now that he is engaged to bemarried. He is nothing more than a prince now—my prince.

I swallow my bitterness.

“There is much for you to learn about this land, little halfling. My marriage is one of necessity.” He looks at the garden door. “I should return before rumors spread.”

“Ah… I believe you should clean up a bit first, Your Highness.” This isn’t my place, is it? Yet I don’t rescind the offer. “Come along.”

Without waiting to see if he’ll follow, I turn on my heel and guide him through the hallways I’m only beginning to memorize. The golden frames are dust-free, holding images of Emyr and his family, or their royal pets.

With each step down the darkened hall, a new lamp lights up, reacting to the presence of the sunny prince. He no longer seems so bright to me, but I suppose it comes down to something we all know to be true…

The sun is the very thing that creates shadows, and Prince Emyr appears to have both sides to him.

“Where are you taking me to in my palace, if you don’t mind me asking?”

I lift a shoulder. “Why, the kitchen, of course.”

“The kitchen?” He laughs loudly. “You can’t take the prince to the kitchen.”

He makes me feel like such a fool.

Heat rises to my cheeks, but I force my voice to remain even rather than shaking with embarrassment. “Why not? It’s the nearest place with cold water, which may be the only thing to get rid of those puffy eyes of yours.”

Sure enough, we attract strange looks as we weave through the bustling kitchen, but no one dares ask us what we are doing. For the first time since arriving, I’m no longer out of place—not with the prince at my side. I can go wherever I please.

Is this what freedom truly feels like?

“I need a pitcher of water for the prince,” I say, “at once.”

A metal pitcher is quickly thrust into my hand.

“And two slices of cucumber, please.”

“Surely you don’t need a snack,” the prince mumbles.

I tilt my head and look at him with a heavy, annoyed gaze. “Hush. You’ll see. There’s always a method to my madness.”

“And you are certainly mad.”

I’m in no position to give orders to Prince Emyr—or anyone, for that matter. I take demands more often than I dish them out in this position. Even Helena, who seems to be at the bottom rung among the employees, is higher than I.

My fellow employees listen to me now that I am with the prince, rushing about the kitchen until they deliver what I requested.

The prince and I huddle in a corner, hardly avoiding the bustling spirit of the space. I dip a cloth into the cool water and rub it over his face, wiping away the hot tears.

“Ah, yes,” I murmur. “That is a bit better.”

“If only you were a Venusian Fae.” His lips tug up at the corners. His closed eyes make it all too easy to admire his intense nose and plush lips. “The ones with the pink wings, that is. Have you met one?”

“I haven’t.” My eyes narrow. “Why would you want me to be one of them?”

“They can make someone beautiful in a flash.”

I know a Moon Fae who can do the same, but I don’t dare mention it to the prince.

It’s safe to smile when his eyes are closed, so I do. “You’re quite pretty now, Your Highness. Not to worry. Tilt your head back.”

I float up with my wings—experimental, considering how infrequently I use them—to bridge the distance between us.