Page 75 of Of Curses and Courtship

I breathe in the fresh air, relieved to travel far enough that the curse is no longer able to swallow us whole. Brookdale rests on the cusp between the Sun Palace and where the mortals lie—where I once came from, though calling the land of mortals myhomedoesn’t feel quite right these days.

Even though the curse is close behind us, it’s impossible to feel it here. The sun shines on my skin, and the looming shadows don’t chase us as we stroll through the town. The skies are still gray, with just enough sunlight peeking through the curtain of clouds to lift my spirit.

Pretty gowns sparkle behind glass windows, the smell of buttery croissants wafts from a bakery, and the soft sea breeze kisses my skin. How are we still so close to the ocean? It feels as though the Sun Palace is in the middle of nowhere, but in the past, it was likely revered as a beachside palace of sun and laughter.

Why am I still thinking of the cursed palace? This is a day without that place, a day without duty, and unlike the day by the lake, nothing can get between me and this moment of relaxation.

No curse. No prince in need of my help. Just Helena and I, using our hard-earned money to buy pastries.

Wandering around a little village without a care almost reminds me of my prior life—the simple life I tolerated. Somehow, I find myself nostalgic for that now that it’s gone.

We step into the bakery. I freeze. Every bit of nostalgia is sucked from me when my attention wanders to the other side.

There she is—my stepmother.

Lady Ashbridge appears the same as ever, wearing all-black attire and looking as though she’s surrounded by cow dung rather than buttery pastries and soft bread. That look of displeasure sends my heart racing. It is colder than the curse.

My chest constricts. My lower lip trembles. I am supposed to move, and I know I am, but I am still leaning on a wall for support.

I don’t realize how loud I’m breathing until Helena speaks beside me. “Are you all right?”

I barely hear her past the ringing in my ears. “Yes… yes… I must wait outside.” I shove coins into her hands. “You’ll meet me there, won’t you?”

“Yes, but?—”

I shuffle out. Helena and I are good friends, and I often hang onto her every word, but in this moment, all I can think of is me—andher, my wicked stepmother.

Helena doesn’t know the extent of what I’m running from, and I don’t wish for her to. This is my escape. I am free now… but, heavens, I no longerfeelfree. My mind traps me in a swirling loop. What if she saw me? What if she drags me home by my hair? What if?—

“Ophelia.” There it is, that cruel voice. My name rolls off her tongue as if she still owns it.

I pry my eyes open and find myself face-to-face with Lady Ashbridge. Though I tell the words to come to me, and grasp them with frigid fingers, I can’t speak.

“I prayed never to see you again,” she says. “Of course, the gods rarely grant my prayers.”

“My lady,” I croak. “Apologies.”

What in the realm am I apologizing to her for? It’s not as if I’d hoped to see her. I ran away, and she chased after me. How can it be that the one who pushed me out of my home is here, digging her claws into me once more?

“All done!” Helena’s cheery voice is a relief from the tension. “Shall we go?”

“Yes,” I mutter. “Let me just?—”

When I turn to say goodbye to Lady Ashbridge, she’s gone. The sea breeze whips air around in her wake.

Had she truly been there at all? My mind may be playing tricks on me.

“D-did—Did you see a woman here?”

“Just you, the most beautiful woman in the realm.” Helena’s brows furrow. “Are you all right?”

A figment of my imagination. That’s all it was. Perhaps my stepmother is still inside the bakery—or maybe she was not there to begin with.

“Yes.” I force myself to straighten up. Hopefully, I appear more normal than I feel. Let her think I’m fine. “Yes. Let us go to our next destination.”

The next stopis Helena’s family home. I never thought about her family—and how different they may be from mine—but after nearly running into my stepmother, I’m happy to hide in their little cottage.

Their home is almost as lovely as the bakery, smelling of rosemary and burning wood, with little sunbeams leaking in through the windows. Helena’s mother gives us fresh rosemary bread, and we sit around the crackling hearth.