A Tale of Love and Curses

Prologue

PRINCESS DAVINA

“Though soulmates aren’t looking for you,

they will find you.”

— Kevin Ansbro

T oday, I will die.

But first, I have a birthday to celebrate.

Death isn’t supposed to be the exciting part of your birthday, but here I am, wondering if it’ll be the best gift I’ve ever received. The curse that Lorelda placed upon me, sealing my fate to die on my twenty-first birthday, has loomed over me for years, and strangely enough, I’ve made my peace with the inevitable.

Instead of being afraid, I’ve just replaced the fear with curiosity about what’s coming next—what awaits me in the afterlife. I will face my fate with a heart full of anticipation rather than fear.

Today’s the day I finally get out of this cursed existence.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the golden necklace I inherited from my dead mother glinting softly against the white fabric of my dress. My cherry red hair, a tangled mess in its ponytail, seems to fit the occasion just right.

I’ve got this.

“Davina,” my father greets me as I approach him in the grand hall of our castle. His smile is strained, lacking the warmth I’d hoped for. It’s forced, like a mask he’s struggling to keep in place. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you,” I reply as I glance around. The silence in the hall is unsettling. Usually, the air hums with the chatter of servants, but today, it’s eerily still—no voices, no footsteps, no one.

“Where is everyone?”

Father stands tall, his expression unreadable, though there’s a faint flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “I was under the impression that you do not wish to be surrounded by everyone else.”

A humorless laugh escapes me. “Are you trying to be funny?”

He gives me a disbelieving stare. “I am certainly not.”

“What? What are you saying?”

“I’ve sent everyone away for the day.”

“You’re joking,” I say, clinging to the hope that he might be.

He raises an eyebrow, his gaze as cold and unforgiving as the stone walls surrounding us. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

The knot in my stomach tightens painfully. “I’m about to die , and you assumed I’d want to be alone?” My voice cracks under the weight of disbelief. “Why are you making such a major decision without my consent?”

He snorts, a sound so dismissive that it fills me with rage. “You’re a child, Davina. I don’t need your consent. Your consent is irrelevant.”

My chest tightens as disappointment and anger wrap around my heart, squeezing the life out of me.

I’ve accepted my fate, but I always imagined I’d be surrounded by those I care about most—especially Nora.

“I want to see Nora,” I insist. “She wanted to be here?—”

“Nora won’t be here,” he cuts me off sharply. “No Nora, no servants, no maids. No one is allowed to enter this castle today.” His tone leaves no room for arguments. “End of discussion.”

His indifference hits me like a blow.

I’ve grown used to his unpredictability, and though I’ve often been angry with him, I’ve never argued with him. I’ve always swallowed my disappointment, never daring to disrespect him.

But this?

This is cruelty beyond anything I’ve known.

“I’m so disappointed I can hardly bear to look at you.” Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and storm away, not knowing or caring where I’m going.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he calls after me, his voice rising.

“I just need to get away from you.”

“You will not speak to me like that!” he roars, his voice shaking with fury.

For once, I don’t apologize. I don’t turn around, cower, or shrink under the weight of his anger like I have so many times before. For once, I don’t care what he wants or expects of me.

I just need to get away.

“Your Majesty!”

I whirl around, startled. Elijah, one of Father’s guards, stands there, his face drained of color.

“I apologize for the interruption, but we have an unexpected visitor. We couldn’t prevent him from getting past the gate?—”

Father’s eyes blaze with wrath, narrowing dangerously as he turns his full attention to Elijah. “What do you mean you couldn’t stop him? Do you realize the implication of this?”

Elijah swallows hard, clearly uncomfortable. “Please, Your Majesty, you need to come see for yourself. It’s urgent.”

Father shoots me one last scathing glance. “Stay here.”

I obey, if only to catch whatever is about to unfold.

Father curses under his breath as he strides toward the door, each step deliberate. He freezes in the doorway, his body tensing as his fists clench at his sides.

I can’t see who’s on the other side, but the air is thick with tension, and the silence is suffocating.

What could be so dire that he would react this way?

“Elijah,” he says, his voice low and controlled, though I can hear the tremor beneath it. “Stay here with her.”

Elijah bows his head slightly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Father steps outside and slams the door shut behind him, leaving me alone with Elijah and a million unanswered questions swirling in my head.

Elijah clears his throat, shifting awkwardly. “Your Royal Highness,” he says, offering me a small bow of his head. “Happy Birthday.”

The words feel hollow, devoid of meaning.

“Thank you,” I respond absently, my mind racing. “How’s the weather today?”

The question hangs in the air, a futile attempt to escape the oppressive tension. Being kept inside this castle only fuels my curiosity about the world beyond its walls. I secretly hold onto the hope that Father might make an exception today and let me go outside, even if just for a few minutes.

But before Elijah can answer, the door opens, and my father steps inside, a man following closely behind him.

Dressed in a white dress shirt and black slacks that hug his tall frame, he crosses the room with easy confidence. His brown hair falls in perfect, short waves, framing a face that is undeniably handsome, with a jawline so sharp it could cut out a girl’s heart.

“This is Prince Cole Whitmore,” my father announces.

My heart skips a beat.

I’ve never met him, but his brutal reputation precedes him.

I stare at him while his energy crackles through the air. This man screams power, and I’m feeling a strong urge to run away.

“There she is,” the Prince drawls, his deep voice cutting through the silence. His gaze is steady, almost piercing, as if he’s trying to read something in my expression.

There’s a smirk playing on his lips, one that seems to say he’s used to having the upper hand, used to making people tremble.

“Are you just going to ignore me, Princess?” He tilts his head slightly. “That’s quite rude, don’t you think?”

I break our stare, finally letting his words filter into my brain. “Excuse me?”

Confusion grips me as I struggle to make sense of the situation.

Father’s face is a mask of exasperation, his forehead wrinkling as he gazes between us. “Go back to your room, Davina.”

I nod, forcing a weak smile before turning to leave.

“Obedient, are we?” the Prince says in a dry tone that somehow still conveys amusement. “Excellent. Turn around for me, would you?”

I hesitate, my fingernails digging into my palms. His tone is mocking, but there’s an edge to it that keeps me from walking.

Slowly, I turn back to face him, his expression unreadable as I glare at him.

“Hurry up. I don’t have all day, and neither do you.”

Confusion makes my brows pull in. “What are you talking about?”

“You will accompany me to Thaloria.”

“What did you just say?”

“How dare you?” Father spits. “My daughter isn’t going anywhere, especially not with you . ”

“Oh, she definitely is.”

I suppress an unladylike snort. “Absolutely not.”

“I apologize if that came across as a suggestion.”

“Oh, I am quite sure it sounded like a demand.”

“Feisty, are we?” His voice drops to a low murmur, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. “This should be interesting.”

A part of me feels as if I’ve done something right and impressed him, which is utterly ridiculous.

His jaw clenches with each deliberate step he takes toward me, and my heart starts racing so violently I’m afraid it might leap out of my chest.

“I told you to hurry up.”

“No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I would say I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not. Just because I don’t have a dick doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do.”

He stares at me, his lips twitching into a ghost of a smile, but his tone remains unimpressed when he says, “I liked you better when you obeyed.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” I retort. “I suppose I’ll just have to disappoint you some more then.”

His smile fades into a tight-lipped expression, and for a moment, I see something flicker in his eyes—frustration or perhaps something deeper, buried under layers of regal indifference.

“Are you done here?” Father snaps. “Because she won’t be leaving with you.”

The air grows thick, and the Prince’s eyes dance over my face, almost as if he’s memorizing every line of it.

“She won’t die at my palace,” he says slowly. “I assure you.”

I nearly burst out laughing. “Liar.”

“You think I’m lying? Or do you doubt my ability to keep my word?”

Father huffs out a breath. “I won’t agree with this without an explanation.”

“My palace is the only place where Lorelda’s magic is useless. If your daughter stays with me, she won’t die. The curse won’t affect her at all.”

He is clearly lying.

Father frowns. “It’s impossible. I’ve been searching for a cure for years.”

“Stop pretending, Nathaniel. You know there is a chance to end this. You’re aware of the prophecy. What you’re lacking is faith in its truth.”

My brow lifts. “A prophecy?”

“Davina, shut your mouth and don’t interfere,” Father snaps, making me flinch. “Tell me how it’s possible that your palace?—”

“I don’t have time for all the details. If you wish to accompany us to Thaloria and see for yourself?—”

“That’s enough,” I cut in. “Father, please make him leave.”

The Prince cocks his head. “Do you wish to be dead?”

“I may be alive and breathing, but I don’t live. Dying today wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.”

My days here just blend into one another, a series of repetitive smiles and shallow conversations that echo off the walls but never touch my soul. My existence has been nothing more than polite dinners with people twice my age, where I’m expected to look pretty, smile on cue, and stay quiet.

I’ve never had a chance to experience life in any meaningful way. I’m trapped in this insufferable routine, and all I’ve done is play a part. There’s no adventure, no passion. So, if today were the end, I wouldn’t miss this existence. I’m tired of just existing.

“If I go with you,” I add, “I’ll be locked in again. That’s a fate worse than death.”

“Such theatrics,” he says, unfazed by my words.

My jaw drops, my gaze desperately meeting my father’s. “Say something,” I urge. “Do something.”

His gaze flickers between us. “What do you want in return? Let’s not pretend you’re offering help because you want to save her for her own good. You want or need something in return.”

“Wait,” I say incredulously. “Are you considering this?”

Scowling, the Prince turns to my father, grabs his arm, and ushers him to a corner.

Now they’re whispering. Perfect. Can’t a girl die in peace?

Elijah flashes me an apologetic smile. It’s ridiculous.

When they’re done talking, my father turns to me again. “I am afraid you need to go with him.”

I take a step back as if he just slapped me in the face.

Maybe I’m already dead, and this is hell.

I shake my head and stomp away, only to freeze when a rough hand wraps around my upper arm from behind. The warm breath on my ear confirms what I already know— it’s him.

“You can’t hide from me, so quit being dramatic and be reasonable.”

Yanking my arm away, I walk faster. “I’m not being dramatic . I just refuse to accept this fate you’re trying to force on me. If you want me to go with you, you’ll have to drag me there kicking and screaming—” I gasp as he grips my wrist and spins me around, standing so close that I can barely breathe.

I tilt my head to meet his burning gaze boring into mine, and my attention is inevitably drawn to the scar that runs across his face. It begins just below his left eye, tracing a deliberate path across his cheekbone and ending near his ear. It stands out against his bronzed skin with its soft pink hue and smooth edges, lacking the jaggedness typical of most scars, and instead looks as if it had been carefully placed there.

I snap out of my stare and glance back at my father, finding him looking completely unconcerned. I can’t believe any of this.

My blood runs cold as his fingers roughly grip my jaw until it hurts. “I don’t like to repeat myself, so I suggest you listen carefully.”

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss and try to pull away, but his grip only tightens.

“If you don’t start playing along, then things could get very unpleasant.”

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the sharp sting where his fingers dig into my jaw. The pressure is almost unbearable, and my heart races, each beat a frantic drum in my ears.

I look back at my father, desperately seeking some sign of intervention, but he remains impassive, his gaze locked on the scene with an unsettling calm.

His grip tightens again, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You’re going to help me whether you like it or not. And you’re going to do it without making a fuss.”

I grit my teeth. “You are insane.”

The grip on my jaw loosens. He exhales and bends his neck to the side until it cracks, running his tongue across his teeth. “ Foolish woman?—”

“What do you expect?” I snap. “That I’m grateful for your offer and climb you like a tree?”

“Something like that.”

I let out an irritated breath. “This is?—”

“I am telling you that you’re not dying if you’re coming with me, so yes , being happy seems like a reasonable reaction to me.”

I try to keep my gaze steady, but my hands are shaking from the adrenaline and anger that’s pumping through my veins.

My mind races as I try to think of a way out of this situation. I’m so sick of being treated as if my thoughts and feelings don’t matter.

“Look,” he deadpans, “I am going to explain, but first, you need to settle down before I tell you everything.”

I glance at Father. “Care to explain why you’re allowing this?”

His gaze is unyielding as I’m silently begging for help with my eyes. “Maybe I can visit you sometime.”

My mouth parts in disbelief. “But?—”

“No buts,” the Prince cuts me off. “We don’t have time for buts. We have to leave before you die.”

“Please,” I plead. “Why aren’t you fighting him?” I ask, my voice cracking. “Why are you letting him take me away?”

“His palace protects you from the curse.”

“But I don’t want to?—”

“You will be safe,” he adds dismissively.

Hot tears are silently starting to drip down my cheeks as I look back at the Prince.

The corner of his eye twitches, his hand moving to his face and grazing the scar as if to soothe an itch. I watch as his expression shifts, a slight furrow in his brow as he presses his fingers against the skin, and it seems to react to his touch, the color deepening subtly as his hand lingers.

My mind still races, searching for a way out, but I know resisting is futile. If I don’t go with him willingly, he’ll take me by force.

The tears keep falling, and I can’t stop them.

His eyes narrow, his impatience clear. “I don’t have the luxury of indulging your emotions right now.”

I wince as he brushes away my tears with a look of irritation.

“I need to see my best friend,” I manage to say through a sob.

“I’ll arrange it.”

I scoff in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

He responds with nothing more than a derisive snort.

Staring up into those forest green eyes, I know one thing for certain—behind that beautiful facade, he’s nothing but untrustworthy.

But his message is clear.

I have no choice.