Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EMYR
Ineed her. I want her. I must stay away from her.
My blossoming feelings for the cursed and lovely Ophelia are the one thing that may ruin my chance at saving my friend and my kingdom. How could she wrap herself around my little finger? How could she make me adore her like I do?
If I break this curse on my own, without the wedding, then I can do something… say something. That is what I’ll focus on.
Even my dreams do not want me with her. Carwyn haunts each night, warning me, begging me to stay away from the halfling.
How can I? The sparkle in her eye is a north star guiding me home—home to a place beyond these palace walls, a place that is not tangible. At the very least, she’s my friend, and she’s a great comfort to me in this frigid palace.
No. I must stay away.
The magic in me compels me to keep to myself, but it’s harder to avoid her in the coming days. Every glimpse I get of her breaks my heart. She gives me the softest smile, the sort that feels as though it means something, and I melt in a moment.
Luckily, I’m busy. I’m strong enough to stay away… until I’m not. Until she asks for me.
“Emyr,” she calls out. “Come here, will you?”
Only Ophelia is bold enough to call a prince over from across the room—and without using my appropriate title. She smiles at me and lifts her brows, as if extending an invitation, and my heart goes racing. What am I to do?
My feet lead me to her of their own accord, drawing me in by a string connecting our chests. She turns away and focuses on cleaning my father’s portrait, running the duster over the frame.
My spine is straight and stiff. This is how Ophelia should see me—as the prince—but she’s never looked at me in such a manner, and I don’t want to. I long to hear her say my name again and again.
“Tell me,” she says, “why can this portrait never stay clean? Surely, it’s not part of the curse.”
“It’s not, and there’s no need to put in such great effort.” I lean against the wall. “My father is quite a dusty man—leaving a bit of grime makes his portrait true to life.”
She shoots me a withering look. “Your personal opinion of your father has no sway in the effort I put into my work, Your Highness.”
“None? Not even a bit?”
She shakes her head and moves on, running the duster against the wall. “What is it that you need? I’m quite busy.”
Spending time with Ophelia makes it seem as if the sun has returned to our palace.
Laughter bursts from my chest. “You called me over, little halfling.”
Perhaps she is being kept too busy. It’s rare for her to greet me so coldly, and I refuse to entertain the idea that it’s because I have been avoiding her. It hasn’t been long enough for her to notice that I’ve been standoffish… has it?
Ophelia does not see me the way I see her. If my nightmares are to be believed, it’s better that way.
“I suppose I did.” She fights off a smile of her own, turning away from me as if she means to hide the glimmer in her eye.
“I believe my father is overworking you.”
“One of us must work, and it certainly cannot be you.”
“Ah! You wound me.” I rub a hand against my chest, feigning a sting, but there is no holding back my laughter. “I’ll have you know, I have been working hard for a century. I’m in retirement now.”
She doesn’t need to know about the late nights I’ve spent at the library as of late, with my nose stuck in books I’ve already read a dozen times over.
“That must be why you have so much time to bother me.”
“You truly are working too hard.” I move closer and snatch the feather duster from her. “It’s put you in a foul mood, and I don’t enjoy it.”
She glares. “My moods are none of your concern, Your Highness.”
I lift a brow. “And if I command you to take a break for the day? What shall you do then?”
“You would use your power against me?”
“Only for your well-being.” My heart hammers.
I’m coming up with ideas I should no longer entertain, but no one can stop me.
Tibalt, my voice of reason, is taking his own day for leisure.
I’m the only one who can hold myself back, and I’m not strong enough to stay away from her for much longer.
“Come with me. There’s so much of my land I wish to show you. ”
Her face is stony, jaw clenched tight. Does she fight herself the way I do? It takes her several long moments to string together an answer. “I can’t fathom where you would take me in this cursed land.”
“Then let me show you.” My gaze softens. “Please, little halfling?”
Her chest heaves. Our eyes meet for only a moment before she turns on her heel and storms off. “You must allow me to change from my work attire.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’m only doing this because you commanded it. It’s not to get me in any trouble.”
“Of course. I will see to it.”
“Good.” She looks at me over her shoulder. “Then I shall allow you to drag me wherever you please.”
It’s rare to see Ophelia look carefree and mirthful. These moments are saved for our dances together in dirty taverns, but she gives me that look now, and I want to run. How can she settle me and shake me to my core? She works in ways that only she will understand, and I’m entirely at her mercy.
Whatever she wants. I’ll give it to her. If she doesn’t know what to request, I will show it to her. I will bring her into worlds she has only ever dared dream of.
Someday. Once the curse is lifted.
“Meet me at the staff exit in thirty minutes,” I say. “That should give you enough time, yes?”
“Just about.”
“Good.”
I can’t recall the last time I saw Ophelia out of her work attire. It may have been in the tavern, but my mind was addled that evening, making it difficult to remember exactly how she looked.
The only thing that sticks in my mind now is the way her chest heaved. Her neckline was lower—inappropriately low. At least, it wasn’t appropriate for me to gawk as I’m sure I did.
Now, with a clear mind, I will remember her like this: in a simple beige dress that sets her hair aglow with warmth.
Her eyes stand out, too. Her hair had been so high and tight before, but now loose tendrils fall perfectly around her face.
I cannot look away from the delicate patterns laced across her skin, hiding her graceful hands behind intricately-made gloves.
“This is appropriate attire, I presume?” She lifts her chin and looks away. “I’m still unsure where you are taking me.”
“So long as you are comfortable walking in that gown, it’ll be fine.”
The exit for our employees leads to the back of the castle, something Ophelia is familiar with. While I’m taking her away from our palace, we don’t require a carriage.
“How far will we walk?” She huffs as I lead her out the door, into the sprawling forest. “You’ve dragged me from my duties only to demand more labor.”
“It will be worth it in the end, little halfling.”
“Hopefully, you’re right. I’m putting my trust in you, and that’s not something I do so easily.”
“I’m confident you will enjoy where we are going.”
There’s no part of our land untouched by the curse, but there is still beauty to be found. The path to the lake isn’t a long walk—just a few minutes away—but it feels as if I’m transported to another place. It’s almost as if the curse never kissed the air.
Though it is still as dark as can be, violet butterflies light up the place like moving, fluttering candles.
A weeping willow stretches over the lake, its green branches skimming the water.
Tiny, blue pixies skate over the lake’s surface like water striders, and small, many-eyed frogs ribbit from their glowing lily pads.
Ophelia gasps. I turn from the scenery, captured by her lit-up expression.
“Do you have anything like this in your land?” I ask.
“Well… sort of.” She doesn’t look away. “We have lakes, but the common fae are not nearly as common in our world, and our butterflies don’t glow.”
Because they’re not butterflies, exactly—they’re common fae. I don’t expect Ophelia to have each type of fae memorized.
“That’s right. I suppose they don’t.”
She finally turns to me, letting me see how her lavender eyes light up—the same as the butterflies.
She’s practically one of them, with her soft wings and skin.
How I yearn to run my fingers over her full cheek, to know how she feels beneath my fingertips, and see her features glow pink.
How I wish to stroke her wings. Would they feel like velvet?
My hands clench at my sides.
“Why did you take me here?” she murmurs.
There’s no correct answer. I took her here to be alone—truly alone—but that’s not the sort of thing I can put into words. We should not be alone, and I certainly shouldn’t seek out moments like these.
Ice-cold claws rake over my mind as a reminder that I’m meant to stay away. But I can’t. It’s impossible. Even with her standing a foot from me, the proximity is a great enough comfort that I never want to move.
“I wanted to show you the beauty of our world,” I say, a half-truth. “The curse has made our land uglier than before, but there’s still beauty to be found.”
“Is this curse all you’ve ever known?”
I nod. “I was born into it. When born in such a condition, one learns to see beauty and light in the darkest places.”
“Like this one?”
“Precisely.”
“Well… thank you. This is the loveliest place I’ve seen. If you ask me, the darkness may only add to the beauty. Without it, how would we see the glow?”
I tilt my head, observing her through new eyes. “Indeed.”
She stares into the water and stays silent—a silence I find comfortable—but my curiosity grows.
“What are you looking at?” I stand beside her and peer in. “Surely it’s not too dirty for your taste.”
“No, no…” She tucks a stray curl behind her ear, and I long to wrap it around my finger. “It’s silly.”
“Tell me.” I narrow my eyes. “I enjoy silliness as much as the next fae. In fact, I have been concerned about your lack of silliness since we met. If what you have to say is so unserious, it’ll be a great relief.”