Page 87 of Of Curses and Courtship

She laughs like bells. “No, but I am flattered you confused us. Do you know Ophelia?”

Upon closer inspection, this Moon Fae doesn’t look much like Ophelia at all. She is older, her wings are darker, and her ears are pointier. It was a trick of the light. Anyone with purple wings reminds me of her—of my friend.

The friend I kissed. The friend I left behind, like a coward.

A trick of the light. That’s all.

I shake my head. “How doyouknow her?”

“We met quite briefly.” The strange fae leans closer. “Tell me. What brings the Sun Prince this far from the castle all on his own, carried by bloodied wings?”

No one else in the inn dares question me, but this fae does.

My jaw ticks. “That is none of your business. I don’t know who you?—”

“I am a friend of your parents. Surely, you have seen me floating around the palace.”

“I don’t make it a habit to memorize the friends of my parents.” I knock back my drink in one gulp. “They’ve many acquaintances, after all. Please, leave me.”

“Ah…” She sighs. “You want to be on your own? I should have assumed as much. You look like a man who is on the run. What do you run from, Prince Emyr? From the love, or the lack?”

I clutch the glass harder, and it shatters. More blood on my hands. My nostrils flare. “Fromeverything.”

OPHELIA

“He vanishes now and then,” Tibalt tells me. “You needn’t worry. He will return in a few days, with stories of things he shouldn’t have been doing.”

Tibalt’s assurances give me little comfort, but having another friend around the palace is nice. Helena seems to enjoy his presence, too. She hardly speaks around him—a rarity for her—and whenever she does say something, her face is the color of ripe cherries.

I would find the whole thing quite cute if I did not have other concerns.

While it is a difficult decision for Tibalt, we decide it isbest not to tell anyone about the worsening curse. There are no signs of other corrupted high fae, and Emyr should be the one to tell them the news… if he ever returns. If the curse didn’t take him. Many ‘ifs’, things keep me tossing and turning well into the evening. When I can’t sleep, I write letters—none of which I send to him.

On one particular evening, I curl up near the fireplace in one of the palace’s many sitting rooms—the only one workers are allowed to enjoy. I lean over the desk, using the flickering light of the fireplace to illuminate my handwriting.

My dearest prince,

You have been away for days now. Days without your laughter are too long. Tibalt is spending far too much time with me, and I would appreciate it if you could take him off my hands.

Just a jest, of course.

It is easier to jest than tell you how I truly feel, Prince Emyr, for you see

No. I crumple the paper and throw it in the fire.

The castle isn’t the same without my dearest friend. I await his return for days, and it appears I’m the only one worried about the disappearance of the angel-winged prince.

His parents don’t send anyone to look for him. Tibalt doesn’t care. I do. I care far too much.

I miss the garden. I miss him being with me in the garden. Perhaps it’s unsafe to wander there alone at midnight, but my feet carry me before I can stop them. There are plenty of guards to keep me safe, I suppose.

While it is a fact that I’m not the only one loitering around the darkened grounds, the surprise is that I spot another with lavender wings. Aside from Princess Minetta, there are few Moon Fae around the palace.

This one sits by the fountain’s edge, her lightly wrinkled hand dipping into the water as she hums.

Isa, a fae I haven’t seen in far too long. She all but disappeared after my arrival, and seeing her again sends a jolt of electricity through me. She’s always been there, at least in this phase of my journey, to guide me when I’m at my lowest.

Perhaps she is just who I need to see now.