Page 83 of Of Curses and Courtship

“Ah…” I peer into a dusty bookshelf, contemplating what may come next. “I suppose we can return the book now. Come. The shopkeeper appears antsy.”

I must tell Emyr the truth about the ball and my attendance, but what good will it do for us, for his palace? I’m still a ruinous halfling.

“I would liketo see the prophecy once we return to the palace.” The carriage jostles me about, and I remain pressed to the door, seeking comfort during the long ride.

We spend the entire day on the road, and after a night of rest, we make our way home. I’m not sure I have the best opinion of the Mercury Palace. It may lack the curse that has ruined the Sun Palace, but the only places I saw were the palace itself and the book shop.

Perhaps someday I can return and give it a proper try. If only I knew how to make portals, like Isa. That would be an easier way to travel than being tossed about for half a day.

Emyr looks uneasy. “My father keeps the prophecies under lock and key, but perhaps…”

Tibalt sighs—he’s done that often since we left the book shop—but he says nothing more. Nightfall grows near, putting Tibalt on alert, his golden eyes sweeping over the roads we travel.

I’ve done my best to help Emyr, but it is still not enough to earn his trust. Even if he has faith in me, his father does not.

“That’s fine,” I say, though his answer disheartens me.

“I’ll do my best.” Emyr peers at me earnestly. “Anything that may help.”

I press my lips together. “Why do you hate the thought of being married so horribly? Princess Minetta seems like a favorable bride.”

“She… is.” He lifts a shoulder. “I’ve always found it hard to swallow the idea of true love and marriage, and while that is changing of late?—”

“Is it?” Tibalt lifts a brow. It’s the first time I have seen him genuinely interested, even teasing, since our initial meeting.

Emyr glares. “As I was saying…” He clears his throat. “Or perhaps I wasn’t saying anything of great importance. Please, forget what I said.”

“Hm.” I look away. “That doesn’t exactly answer my question, but?—”

The carriage halts. The horses let out dreadful sounds of fear. The noise that comes from me is no prettier, a loud gasp that has me clutching my throat.

This is more than a horse being spooked. Before we can see it, I feel it—and Emyr must know. He watches me with such certainty that I wonder if he knows more than I do.

“What is it?” Emyr asks.

“It is…” I shake my head, my brows furrowed. “I think it’s the curse.”

“That can’t be,” Tibalt says. “It’s only sunset. We should have an hour still.”

Tibalt climbs down from the carriage and goes to the front, his hand already on his sword as he goes. Emyr follows him, and I touch his arms, my eyes widening.

“Emyr.” I gasp. “Please. You are unarmed.”

“I don’t care. My friend needs me.” He is gone before I can say anything. His wings are larger now, covering his body as he rushes after his friend.

And what am I to do? I can sit here or follow, but staying doesn’t feel right. I doubt I have the same confident presence as Emyr, and I am certainly not as strong as Tibalt, but I race after them with my wings carrying me rather than my feet, hovering inches above the ground.

The driver is hunched over. Black sludge pours from his eyes. He lifts his head. He smiles a dreadful smile, and the dark poison falls from his mouth onto the dirt.

Soiling everything. Death. Decay. Hatred.

I recoil.

“It’s worsening,” Tibalt says. “Before, it was only common fae, and now…”

A high fae has been corrupted for the first time.

Sorrow. Thirst. Revenge.