Page 8 of Of Curses and Courtship

Well… that’s relatively harmless.

“Ah…” I point over his shoulder. “There’s a tavern up that way. Go straight and look for the drunkards ambling about. You can’t possibly miss it.”

“You underestimate me, my lady.” He ducks his head, pushing his face closer to mine. “I’m terrible with directions.”

Up close, his eyes shine like the sun, with spots of yellow behind the stormy gray.

My lips part, and my chest heaves as I inhale. “I fail to see how that’s my problem.”

“Perhaps it’s not, but you may have the solution nevertheless.” He tilts his head to the side. “Will you have a drink with me, my lady?”

No.I will not have a drink with you. You refer to me as a lady; some say ladies should not entertain the idea of having drinks with strange men. You’re the most peculiar of all, my good sir.

I know exactly what you are.

That’s what I should have said, but my wisdom was lost somewhere between grabbing the apples and locking eyes with the stranger.

Ladies such as my stepsisters are not permitted to spend time in taverns, but while I have many restrictions, my stepmother no longer cares what I do outside the house. She has two perfectly eligible daughters to attend to, and ensuring they find their match is more important than my having a clean reputation.

No one thinks twice when I stroll into the tavern, even though an ethereal stranger accompanies me.

This is him in his mortal form. How will he appear when his glamour drops?

My glamour is weak, just enough to blend in with the mortals, but like most of my magic, I have little control over it. It’s far easier to remain hidden. I’ve never been comfortable with my fae form, even a stolen glimpse in the looking glass. The purple sheen of my eyes, my ears sticking out of my hair, and the glow about my skin…

It feels so unlike me.

His friend settles in at a table near ours, and I sit alone with the white-haired fae.

“You have yet to tell me your name,” I say.

He lifts a brow. “And you have yet to tell me yours.”

Never give a high fae your name. That’s what I was taught, but is it still true when I am a fae myself?

The hairs on my arms stand upright, goose bumps scattering across my flesh. “Perhaps that’s for the best. You have an air of mystery about you. Is it so terrible that I wish to match it?”

“Terrible is not the word I would use.” He drags a finger over the dirty table and lifts a hand, inspecting it. “Perhaps we should order our drinks instead of exchanging names.”

Drinking with a strange fae is the exact behavior Lady Ashbridge would want me to avoid. And yet, in a moment of rebellion…

“All right.” I clear my throat. “Two pints of ale, and I’ll be gone.”

“You mean two pints each, I’m sure.”

I narrow my eyes. “One for me. However much you drink is none of my business.”

He leans in. The action is sharp and quick, as is the look in his eye. “You are a fae, are you not? One drink will do nothing?—”

No. How does he know? He can’t—and the others certainly can’t. My stomach sours.

“Hush!” I clap a hand over his mouth.

Beneath my hand, his lips twitch as if he wishes to let out another round of boisterous laughter.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I whisper with venom dripping from my tone, “nor do you know the consequences of someone overhearing.”

He says nothing, and I let my hand drop. Relief evades me. My shoulders tense as I lean back.