Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EMYR
As the carriage waits for me, Minetta stands close enough that her perfume gives me a headache. “You will be back soon, won’t you?”
The scant sun beats onto my skin, energizing me as much as possible through the shroud of the curse. “I will only be gone for the week’s end. You will not miss me one bit.”
“But I already miss you.” Her lips form a slight pout. “You have been so busy as of late. Are you sure I cannot come with you?”
No. Minetta must not join us. She won’t understand the work I am doing, and—no.
I force myself to speak calmly. “Alas, the carriage is full.”
It’s not unusual to bring our workers along on trips. Tibalt will join as my security, and my parents don’t question Ophelia’s presence—in fact, they don’t question the journey at all. Now that I’ve agreed to wed, they have given me free rein.
I was an easy child to rear, considering my aptitude for learning, but the one thing I rebelled against was the need for marriage.
It was not meant to be my duty, anyhow. Not at the start.
My parents already had an heir, and they didn’t expect to have another child.
It was always supposed to be my brother, not me.
It would be a lie to say I am not pleased at having a weekend to myself…
A weekend without my betrothed.
My parents would have accepted me marrying anyone, but marrying someone of Minetta’s stature makes them all too pleased. That may be why I feel a chill up my spine whenever I stand at her side.
“I suppose you are right.” She forces a smile. “I should not be so selfish.”
Minetta does not seem happy, even when she accepts my halfhearted half-truth. My stomach churns, a combination of nerves and disgust—at myself, and at what I will say next just to appease the person I am supposed to be falling in love with.
“Once we are wed, we will have plenty of trips—just the two of us.” I chuckle. “Well, and Tibalt. I rarely go anywhere without him.”
“I am looking forward to those days.” She tugs on my collar and pulls me closer, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. Her touch is stiff, as though we are performing a dance we are untrained in. “Hurry home to me, my love.”
I clear my throat. “Yes. I will.”
It’s not as if I have another option.
“Your Highness.” Tibalt saves me, as he often does, opening the carriage door. “We should leave. We do not want to travel once the sun has set.”
Sundown is when the curse is at its worst, but we should be able to make it to the Mercury Palace by then. My parents believe it is a diplomatic trip, but it is more than that. The palace has a book I need, and I intend to obtain it.
I step into the carriage and give Minetta a small wave.
It’s embarrassing to display such affection in front of my friends.
Pink is likely painted across my cheeks, and I have a feeling it remains even when the driver begins leading us along the cobbled path—stones painted orange and yellow that would have once looked so lovely in the sun.
“She seems quite smitten,” Ophelia says. “I assume that means all is well, Your Highness?”
Ophelia wears a new riding habit—or at least an outfit I haven’t seen before. It’s pristine, made of light green fabric that complements her wings. Her rosy cheeks and curious expression draw me in, even though my betrothed is lingering not far behind.
They both deserve better than me.
I sigh wearily. “It’s as well as can be, Miss Ophelia.”
The driver may be within earshot, and even though Tibalt knows nearly as much as Ophelia does, I can say no more.
“We’re going to the Mercury Palace, yes?” Ophelia says. “I’ve never been there—not even close. How long shall we ride?”
“A mere day,” I say. “It’ll be quite a long ride, but once we are there, we have a place to stay for the night. They are our allies.”
“I know nothing of alliances, but I suppose that’s good.”
“If they weren’t our allies, we wouldn’t be able to visit with so few guards,” Tibalt says. “Having an alliance means we are safe, within reason.”
“I see.” Ophelia looks down at the book on her lap—the book I gave her in the library. She’s learning more about her magic after all. “We must see how I fare on such a long trip. An experiment of sorts.”
There are certainly more comfortable places to be than a jostling carriage. Time passes, with silence and polite conversation, and the sun begins to set. As the light disappears below the line of trees, inch by inch, my nerves spike.
It’s unreasonable to believe the curse would follow us this far, but my fears are unshakable.
It didn’t go well the last time Ophelia and I were alone in the dark, and I don’t wish to risk her life again. She’s curled up in the corner of the carriage, with her wings tucked away, and she looks so soft. Ophelia has the heart of a healer, even if she doesn’t know how to use her gifts.
I’m not strong enough to keep her safe, yet I fight the urge to protect her as we move along the path.
We arrive as night falls, and I find comfort knowing the curse did not follow us. Although the halls are unfamiliar to Ophelia, I hope she can find comfort in them as well. This is her first time in an uncursed fae land.
The Mercury Palace is smaller than ours, without nearly as much fanfare, but it also lacks the shadow of the curse.
Despite the simple decoration, I can’t complain as we are led along plain stone walls.
There is sun here—or there will be once it rises.
Even in the dark, there’s joy and laughter.
The royals of this land drink and feast, and though we neglect the invitation to join, hearing their merriment through the walls offers me a sense of comfort.
It’s as though their joy may rub off on us.
A worker leads us up the stairs to our promised bedchambers. My hands shake for reasons I cannot understand. Ophelia and I haven’t had time to speak privately since our departure, and now we’ll retire to our separate bedchambers. No matter how I long to keep her close, there is nothing else to do.
“Thank you,” I say to the employee. “I will send a letter if we need anything.”
The worker gives a slight bow and backs away.
“Don’t bother me.” Tibalt yawns and opens the door to his bedchamber. “We’ll rely upon the palace knights tonight, because I’ll be keeping watch of no one. My bones ache.”
I roll my eyes. “Good night, Tibalt.”
At last, Ophelia and I are alone. We stand outside our bedchambers, tension settling into the few feet of space between us. No matter how close we have become, spending an entire day in a cramped carriage, it always feels as though there’s still something in the way.
“What shall we do tomorrow?” Ophelia whispers. “I’m antsy. I’ve been this entire trip—which I’m sure seems short to a well-traveled man such as yourself, but it’s been long for me.”
“You could have fooled me, considering you spent half of it sleeping. You looked rather comfortable.”
Her brows furrow. “Emyr. I’m serious.”
Though the Mercury Palace brings me comfort and is a place I am familiar with, it’s not for Ophelia. I brought her to a strange land, and I suppose I can understand her reservations.
“I know.” I tentatively step closer. “We’ll not do anything to put you in danger. Tomorrow we are visiting a bookshop, and that is all we’ll do.”
The wrinkle in her brow disappears, and her lips tug up just the slightest. “Do you promise?”
“Yes.” I force myself to look away. How she gazes at me is so tender— I do not deserve it. “I’ll see you in the morning, little halfling.”
Something must be said between us, but I’m unwilling to acknowledge what it is.
My heart and mind are torn in two directions.
I need her—someone on my side, someone who doesn’t share my parents’ beliefs so blindly.
But my dreams have been warning me against her.
Each night, I toss and turn in the darkness of the curse, and she is there.
These dreams are a reminder of the prophecy. It’s a halfling who will bring great ruin…
But how can it be her? She doesn’t look like a ruin to me. She has become my peace and my friend. Perhaps that’s what makes her so dangerous. The distraction.
The more time I spend with Ophelia, the more I forget about the prophecy in its entirety. It must be wrong. Whoever wrote it is surely a false prophet.
I bid her farewell, though I wish to invite her inside.
The silent bedchamber greets me, and my heavy heart follows me to bed. Ophelia is still on my mind. Dinner is brought to me, and it should be a relaxing night after travel, but my mind is racing too fast for me to catch up.
Ophelia is just on the other side of this wall, settled into a matching bed. How does she look in her nightgown, with sheer white clinging to her chest?
No.
Sleep. I must sleep before my mind gets the better of me.
Hours of tossing and turning feel counterproductive to this desire, and before I know it, there is a knock on the door. My eyes fling open. It is not yet morning, is it?
With shaking hands, I amble from bed, worried about what I’ll find when I open the door. Never did I imagine it would be Ophelia standing there.
I lift a brow. “Do you need something, Miss Ophelia?”
“Yes.” She holds up a half-empty bottle of wine. “I brought this for us to share.” The moon magic book is tucked safely under her other arm.
“It seems you’ve already been sharing it with yourself.”
“Perhaps.” A soft giggle falls past her lips as she pushes past me, inviting herself inside. “I decided it’s not best to drink alone. It’s not very lady-like, after all.”
“But you are not a lady. You told me so yourself, many times.”
“I would have been a lady if my father hadn’t died, leaving me nothing.
” This time, her laughter is anything but carefree.
It’s wild, cackling until it crumbles into something soft and sad.
The morose look only lasts for a moment before she perks up.
“Besides, I need your help with this.” She drops the book onto my bed. “I’ve been practicing.”
Ophelia is moving at a mile a minute, breezing past conversations we must have.
“I’ll help you with whatever you please, but answer me one question first. Why would his death prevent you from holding such a title? Surely, archaic rules about women not owning property are not still a problem for mortals.”
“No, it isn’t that.” The bed dips beneath her as she crawls into my bed with the bottle of wine. “In fact, my father gave everything to his wife, and she”—she hiccups—“she took everything from me. But at least it is a woman rather than a man, I s’pose.”
“Indeed.”
She doesn’t give me a moment to admire how she looks in my bed, or in her soft nightgown, before she breaks my heart.
It makes little sense to me. How could someone be so cruel to her?
The smell of wine and roses hits my senses—too soft, too sweet, too her.
I’m frozen, even though my heart runs like a wild thing.
“Is that the only bottle you’ve had?” I murmur.
“It’s the second.” A devious smile curls on her lips. “Why? Do you wish to take it from me, Your Highness?”
It’s safer to stand a few feet from her.
Her wings are a soft, ebbing glow in the dark, making it too easy to see her sweetly flushed cheeks…
and she’s in my bed. My heart grows tight.
My trousers do, too. The soft fabric of her cream nightgown falls down her shoulder, and my lips part in surprise.
She doesn’t seem to realize what she’s doing to me, what the flash of her shoulder does to my chest and cock.
Why do I feel I’ve never been touched before? She lifts her hand and fixes the strap, and I’m afraid there is nothing more attractive than her petite fingers playing with the fabric.
My heart falls out on the floor, a gift for her, but she doesn’t seem to realize it’s there. It’s been there all along. Waiting. Hers for the taking.
“Perhaps I should.” Against my better judgment, I stalk closer. “You did offer to share, after all.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.” I bend down, pressing my face close to hers.
Her eyes lower, flickering to my lips, and time stands still. Her lips part. A soft, pink glow radiates from her.
The drink has made her want to kiss me, I believe. I’m not oblivious to her urges, but I can’t give in, no matter how much I long to taste the sweet wine on her peach lips.
Which is sweeter—the drink or her? It’s far too dangerous to ask.
Perhaps if she hadn’t had so much to drink, I would give in to the desire to taste her lips.
It’s easier to pull away knowing she doesn’t truly want it.
Of course, she does not yearn for me. Why would she?
Ophelia has seen me at my lowest, stained with tears and regret. No one can desire me in such a state.
Pathetic. Powerless. Ugly.
My heart sinks lower into the pit it’s stuck in. I snatch the bottle from her and set it down on the small table.
She stares at the wine.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she murmurs.
I turn to face her again. She looks small, sinking into the bed, and I wonder if the heat on her cheeks is from the drink or embarrassment.
“Why not?” I lift a shoulder. “This bed is as good as any.”
And I want her to be here, to be with me. Safe.
As safe as someone as weak as me can make her.
She groans and pulls the covers over herself, apparently changing her mind quite quickly. “You sure?”
“Mhm.” I pluck the bottle back up and slouch into a chair. Some would say the seat is not fitting for a prince to sleep in, but it’ll do just fine for me. “Sleep well, my little halfling, knowing I’ll be here to watch over you. To care for you.”
The sentiment is soft, creating another plucking feeling at my chest and a lingering moment of silence. It’s more than I should say, but I doubt she’ll remember in the morning.
Did she fall asleep? Did I say too much?
“No one’s ever cared for me,” she whispers, for only me and the uncursed night air to hear. “Not in a long time, and in such a gentle way. Not how you care for me. I am usually the one caring.”
“Perhaps it’s time for a change.”
“You may be right.” She yawns. “Good night, my sweet prince.”
I’m not disappointed about having Ophelia in my bed. She is here. She is safe.
“We didn’t get to speak about the book,” I mutter, shaking my head.
It’s not of great importance. She’ll learn her magic in time, and people learn in different ways. Tonight, she needs a soft bed and a good friend, and I don’t have the strength to turn her away.