Page 85 of Of Curses and Courtship

Now, it doesn’t feel so terrible. We lived, and I performed magic no one has ever seen. We’re closer to breaking the curse than before. It’s all wrong, still so horribly wrong, and yet… perhaps there’s still joy to be found.

“You saved my life,” he says once more.

His fingers brush against my face, pushing back a strand of my hair—and perhaps a splattering of blood and sludge. I lean into the touch. His lids flutter. Neither of us has words to spare, and if Tibalt is watching, I forget that I ought to care.

Emyr’s lips brush against mine most softly. Perhaps it’s gratitude, or that he has carried a longing that mirrors mine. I don’t care about the reason for the proximity, as long as I can have it. Heat comes, the rush of the battle arriving at once.

My lips press to his firmly, to let him know he is my choice—even if I am not his.

He doesn’t believe in true love, but with him, I fear I do. I wish to.

Emyr’s hand moves to the back of my head, holding me in place as his lips part to devour me. But he’s gone too soon, before I can give my soul to him, puffing out ragged breaths as he pulls away from me.

“I must… I don’t know…” He floats to his feet.

I follow him up, pressing the palms of my hands against my warm, blood-splattered cheeks. “We should go.”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t be around you.”

“Emyr. You don’t mean that.”

“I must go.” He floats higher and higher, his wingscarrying him into the darkened sky, to places I can’t follow. “Don’t wait for me. Make way to the palace with haste.”

“We’ll go nowhere without you, foolish man,” Tibalt booms.

“Leave me!”

Gods. It was all a mistake. We shouldn’t have kissed. We shouldn’t have touched.

Why do my hands feel so empty without him?

Tibalt and Iare two blood-splattered soldiers returning home with more than just victory, but it does not feel like a success at all.

At least the drive will be a short one.

“I’m worried for him.” The soft admission tumbles from my mouth.

“You don’t have to be.” Tibalt sighs—for perhaps the thousandth time. “This is not the first time he’s escaped into the skies.”

“If you say so...” I look out the window, where darkened trees and branches pass us.

“You only need to give him time.” Tibalt’s voice grows softer than I’ve known it to be. “I’m not sure what has transpired between the two of you?—”

“Nothing. You saw it, and that was all there was to see.”

“An embrace in the heat of battle.” He nods. “I know it well. I’ve kissed many friends and foes in such a fashion.”

Has he? I can’t imagine that, but it makes sense for Tibalt. He may have passion hiding beneath his snark and duty.

I shake my head. “That was all it was. Yes. You are correct.”

He clears his throat. “We’ll arrive at the palace shortly. Probably best that we both have a bath, but…”

I wait for him to say anything, too exhausted to fill the pause.

“How?” he asks. “I must know how you manipulated the curse. We have other Moon Fae around the kingdom, and none could do… that.”

“I am unsure…” I think back to the prophecy—and to the halfling from the prophecy. I’ve spent my life telling myself I can’t be that halfling, but perhaps I am, or maybe I am something different. What if I can stop the other halfling—if there is another halfling at all? “I’m still quite new to using my gifts.”