Chapter 36 Braxton
Braxton
“She didn’t realize that you’ve noticed changes in the curse?” Gravesley sits beside me as I eat my breakfast.
“If she noticed, she didn’t bring it up.” I run my palm along my jaw, the pinpricks of stubble reminding me that I should shave before I see Azalea today. “It could be a trap.” I point out, knowing that Dianthus has tricked me before.
At one point, she went as far as to make me believe the curse was broken, so when I went to Azalea believing she knew and remembered everything it caused the very unbroken curse to reset, costing me one of my dwindling chances to win Azalea back.
I blow a frustrated breath through my teeth. I can feel an ache beginning along my neck and traveling up into my skull, switching off between pulsing and pounding.
“Have you considered telling her you’re cursed.”
I nearly spit out the potatoes in my mouth, and in an attempt to keep them from flying across my bedroom floor choke them down instead.
“Was that a serious suggestion?” I grunt, reaching for a glass of water and taking a hefty swig. Before Gravesley can respond, I continue, “Of course I haven’t. It could cause her memories to start leaking back in.”
“Not necessarily—”
Gravesley opens his mouth to say more, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “I only have one more chance to get her to fall in love with me. I’m not wasting it on a hunch.” My tone leaves no room for negotiation as I force another forkful of food into my mouth.
I haven’t been tasting any of the breakfast the chef had crafted for me this morning. Everything tastes as bland as a stale cracker, but it beats the sour taste that has been stuck in my mouth since my visit with Dianthus yesterday.
Gravesley deflates in his seat, and I momentarily feel bad for being so harsh, but I stand by my reasoning.
With obvious hesitation, Gravesley leans forward and steeples his fingers. “Have you looked at the curse document recently?”
I shake my head.
“Maybe we should.”
Turns out the old man knows what he’s talking about. After scouring over the document detailing the parameters of the curse, I finally come to the conclusion that there isn’t anything listed out saying I’m not allowed to tell Azalea that I’m cursed.
As long as I don’t bring up what exactly my curse is, how it came to fruition, or that it has anything to do with her, I should be in the clear.
The only problem is that Azalea is one of the most clever and curious people I’ve ever met in my unnaturally long life.
Fuck me.
Step one of putting this plan into action is to find Azalea, so I go to the one place I’m almost guaranteed to always find her: the library.
My breath stutters in my lungs when I see her.
Her nose is practically wedged in the book she’s meticulously scanning, keeping her from noticing me right away.
I use this time to drink her in. A luxury I’m very rarely granted as of late.
She’s wearing a simple white, cotton dress today.
The lantern sleeves fall past her shoulders before billowing around her arms. The skirt of the dress flows around her as she sits forward, reaching for a quill.
Her slender fingers wrap around the item before dipping it into a pot of ink and underlining a section of the book.
Bringing the feather end of the quill up to her mouth, she swishes it back and forth across her pink-painted lips as she continues to read.
And just like that, I’m jealous of a fucking feather.
Her eyes narrow slightly, hiding the honey hues of her irises behind her thick black lashes, as she scrutinizes the text in front of her.
Her hair falls around her face in a cluster of chestnut curls that makes her look ethereal as the sun beams down onto her from the floor to ceiling windows on her left.
Though I would never tell her for fear she would stop wearing her hair like this altogether, this is my favorite way she styles her hair.
Embracing her natural curls and letting them fall around her wild and free.
The carefree nature of it suits her. It makes me want to tangle my fingers in her luscious locks, and use them to pull her toward me.
My eyes drift around her face, becoming caught on her plump lips as she continues to mouth the words she’s reading without speaking them aloud. As soon as my mind drifts to the memory of feeling the delicate touch of her lips skate across my skin, I clear my throat to announce my presence.
When Azalea lifts her eyes to mine, she immediately becomes flustered, the quill slipping from her fingers. It bounces off of her lap onto the ground, and I watch as a few droplets of ink splatter across her white skirt, bleeding out into the fabric.
She slams the book closed and leans her upper body over it, as if to keep me from seeing what she’s reading. Not her most inconspicuous move.
“Prince Braxton,” she breathes before putting on a forced smile.
I feel a surge of envy move through me as she tucks the stray curls that fell in front of her face behind her ears. Something so simple to miss, but I do. I miss getting to brush my fingers through her hair and tuck her curls away so that I can better stare at her face.
“Prince?” I question with raised brows as I step further into the library.
“That is your title isn’t it?” Though her tone is terse, she continues stretching her mouth into a fake grin.
“You’ve never been one to use my title.”
“A woman can change can’t she?”
“Don’t.” The single word comes out more serious than I intend. “Don’t change.” I clarify, my eyes pleading in ways that my words can’t.
She does little to try and hide the shock that reverberates through her at my sudden somber tone.
“Why are you bothering me in the library?” she prompts, not meeting my eyes.
“Bothering you? I just walked in here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me rephrase.” She looks up with feigned innocence. “Why are you now bothering me specifically in the library instead of simply bothering me with your general existence?”
I place my hand over my heart, feigning as if she’s wounded me. She rolls her eyes.
“What are you reading?” I inquire, knowing exactly what book she’s reading.
It’s the same book she’s read at least a hundred times: Everything There is to Know About Magical Deals, Curses, and Bargaining with a Witch.
The title is a bit long for my liking, but it always seems to catch Azalea’s eye, though it truly doesn’t have any meaningful information tucked within its pages.
This is the first time I’ve seen her actually mark any passages in it, which sparks my curiosity.
“None of your business,” Azalea snaps, pulling the book closer to her.
“Don’t bother trying to hide it. I know you’re reading about curses. Hoping to break this deal we have?” I use my pointer finger to gesture between us.
“And what if I am? Are you going to bar me from the library, again?”
Of course she remembers that.
“No.” I pause before taking a deep breath.
Time to see if this theory Gravesley and I came up with is going to work. My heart pounds in my chest as fear that I’m about to permanently ruin everything grips me, but if I let my trepidation control me, I will never succeed in getting what I want. Her. Always her. Only her.
“I actually need your help.” I manage to push the words out around my tight throat.
Azalea’s eyes become slits as she sizes me up and down. “No.” Uncrossing her ankles under the table she pushes herself to her feet.
I stare at her, my mouth ajar. “No? I haven’t even told you what I need help with yet.”
“It doesn’t matter. The only thing I will be happy to help you with is planning your untimely death.” She chimes over her shoulder, going to return the book she was reading to its vacant spot on the bookshelf.
I suck my teeth and shove down my budding frustration. “I’ll let you go.”
Azalea stops putting the book away and turns to face me. “What did you say?” Her tone is lethal.
“If you agree to help me with this task, I will grant you your freedom. You can leave the castle.”
Her jaw sets, and her posture becomes rigid. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m not stupid, Braxton. You can’t just undo a curse. I know. I’ve read about them.”
“It won’t be undoing it. I’ll mark the curse as fulfilled, and your binding to me will vanish.”
The toe of her heeled foot taps against the tiles, and I can see her apprehension warring with her longing to leave.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Unfortunately, you’ll have to trust me.”
She snorts and shakes her head. “Then, I’m afraid I have to go back to my initial response. No.” In an instant, she places the book back on the shelf and stalks past me.
As her body comes closer to mine, I reach out and grasp her arm. Not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to stop her from going any further.
“Let me go,” she seethes, wriggling her arm in an attempt to break it from my grasp. She’s not putting her full effort into it, though, which is the only reason I keep my fingers locked around her.
“Look at me.”
Being uncharacteristically obedient, she lifts her eyes to glower at me.
“Tell me if I’m lying,” I implore. “If you help me with this task, I will grant you your freedom.”
She studies me, taking her time to examine every inch of my face, before she finally sags.
“Fine,” she agrees, and my entire body thrums with excitement. “I’ll help you.”
For the first time in ages, a true smile fills my face. She softens for a moment when she sees it, but quickly guards her expression once more, and pulls her arm from grasp. This time I release her with ease.
“What is this task anyway?”
“I need you to help me break my curse.”