Page 63 of Of Curses and Courtship

“Not a threat—a warning,” Emyr says. “The corrupt fae are a danger to you, even if you’ve no chance of becoming corrupt.”

“Don’t I?”

He shakes his head. “It’s only the common fae—the ones who are less humanoid, that is to say. High fae have yet to succumb to such corruption.”

“I see.” I step closer. After avoiding the prince for days, it’s easy to seek proximity. The moon’s light carries me as though I’m resting atop a wave of salty sea foam. “And what about you, prince? Isn’t it dangerous foryouto be out this late?”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I may not be trained in combat, but I have defensive magic. Can you say the same?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” I gaze up at the moon. “I thought being out here would help me feel more connected to my element. Perhaps it’s silly.”

“It’s not. Moon Fae have been doing this for centuries. For as long as I can remember, really.”

There it is again—hope. Not only hope for my magic, but that the prince and I may be able to be friends. It’s hard to believe some days, when my mind can think of nothing but twirling in his arms.

“Oh.” I let out a breathy laugh. “I suppose that means the rumors of moon bathing are true. At least I’m not wasting my time.”

“You have been practicing your magic?” He lifts a brow. “I would hardly call that a waste. Let us see it.”

“No!” I hold my hands to my chest. “I’m not ready to show anything—not to a magician like you.”

“I’m sure you are. Don’t be so afraid.”

I hesitate, lowering my arms and defenses. “If you answer one question for me, I will show you what little magic I can wield.”

“You may ask whatever you please of me, little halfling.”

“Why is it that when we channeled magic together, I could control the wind? I can’t do that now. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Ah…” He chuckles. “That was me. I’ve practiced manipulating many elements, and though they don’t come as naturally to me as the sunlight and illusory magic, I’m adept at most of them. That’s the work of a magician, to use all tools at our disposal.”

My brows furrow. “Then you lied to me. I was not channeling magic at all, was I?”

“We channeled the airtogether. That was not a lie.” He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his hair when it blows in the wind. It appears he has finally bathed and fixedhis hair, after days of appearing so lackluster. Now, he smells like warmth. Amber. A forest. “I only wanted to encourage your blossoming magic.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “You did encourage it, I suppose. You made me infatuated with the mere idea of feeling that tingle again. I’ve been searching for it ever since.”

“Then let’s find it together,” he whispers. “Show me your magic. Please? I would love to see it.”

“Well…” I swallow thickly and cup my hands together, closing my eyes.

Sorrow is the easiest emotion for me to mold. I feel it in him now, and it is something I’ve carried since my father’s death, perhaps before that. Sometimes, it feels as though a deep sense of longing burrowed its way into my chest from the moment I was born, originating in memories I have no reason to recall.

But tragedy isn’t the feeling that comes when I call on this night. It’s something pink and bursting, something that feels like a giggle. Sweet and deep, like the burst of biting into a ripe plum.

When I open my hands, rose light shines onto his face.

Emyr peers at me with wide, sky-blue eyes. “You’re an empath.”

“I believe so. You’ve heard of the gift?”

“But, of course. It can be quite a useful ability. Many become emotional healers, so to speak.”

Emyr looks different in the light. He’s closer to how he was when we first met, carefree again, intrigued by me, I think—or by my magic. Curiosity lights up his face. Perhaps speaking of the arcane is the distraction he needs. The trouble is that this should be a perfectly friendly conversation, but it’s not—not for me.

Seeing his eyes brighten, how he leans in, the rapid way he whispers…

He is pure passion, and it makes him far more attractive.