Chapter 21 #2
She’s right—I must be courageous. And I will be.
“He’s back!” Helena squeals. “Emyr. Sonny spotted him slipping into his bedchamber.”
Foolish man.
The prince returns on the fifth day, just two days after Isa gifts me with courage.
Perhaps it’s not one of her gifts or a wish, but it feels like it is.
She revealed something that may have been within me all along, but now it’s blossoming.
My courage is a mint plant, growing large enough to take over the garden.
If the prince has returned, even if he is hiding in his bedchamber, that is where I’ll be.
Without saying a word to Helena, I rush from the room. I don’t care about the state I am in—in a white nightdress, with my hair flowing over my shoulders.
Emyr is back and has yet to greet me. It feels like a great insult, after all we’ve been through.
I bang a fist against the wooden door, ensuring he can hear. “Emyr. It’s me.”
He should know who that is. We nearly died together, and then he disappeared for five days. Five days without knowing if he is alive, without knowing if he is cursed. Perhaps he is—and gods, he would deserve it, but—
He opens the door, and my fury slips away. Emyr peers at me with sunken eyes—lifeless. His wings wrap around his shoulders like a blanket or cape, something to keep him warm and protected.
“Ophelia.” His eyes only come to life when he smiles at me and steps aside. “Come in.”
“I will, thank you.” I push past him.
He closes the door behind us and lingers there, with his fingers on the metal doorknob. “What brings you here at this hour?”
I take two steps into the room, my feet pressing into the plush, red rug. “Well, you didn’t come to see me, so I thought I would do the job myself.”
“I’ve only been home a few hours.”
“That was ample time to send word of your return.” I sniff. “I’m sure you told the others…”
I’ve no right to be jealous of Princess Minetta, but despite how positively evil it makes me, I am. She is his companion, the one he will marry despite his heart’s wishes, and I will only ever be the one he kisses and runs from.
“Only my parents know about my return,” he says.
Not quite. Word always spreads quickly among the maids, so it’s no surprise that Helena has such secrets.
“That is… fine.” I deflate, my shoulders falling. “I was worried about you. I waited for a letter, a message, or… or anything.”
“Why would you worry about me?” He shakes his head. “You almost died, and it was my fault. Everything is my fault. You were likely safer when I was away.”
This is precisely what Isa meant. I don’t believe Emyr is a coward in the deepest parts of his heart, but heavens above, he behaves like one.
“Oh, that’s enough.” I laugh bitterly. “What does wallowing and blaming yourself do to keep me safe? What does it do to break this curse? It does nothing.”
His eyes widen. “Miss Ophelia!”
“No! You can’t kiss me and run. You ought never to have kissed me at all.”
“I know, but…” He frowns. “I thought you wanted to—”
“I did, you maddening man, but my desires don’t matter. You’re engaged to be married, and I’m a maid.”
“You’re a fae. You are no less than any other—not even Minetta.”
“But I’m not. I am a halfling, and she is a princess. I’m nothing.”
“You’re a halfling. I know that.” His tired eyes grow steely, and his fingers twitch at his side.
It’s as if he wishes to touch me, and he must know by now that I’m fighting the same desire.
If I could fix the hair that curls in front of his face and tuck him into bed, I would.
If that could fix everything that has gone wrong, I would do it.
“But that doesn’t mean you are nothing. You are—”
“Don’t.”
He inhales a shaky breath, and to my relief, never finishes his sentence. I’m unsure if I can remain strong if Emyr calls me something I know I’m not: everything. To be everything to the prince, to a man who is the sun himself…
It’s unfathomable.
I lift my chin higher. “I need to know if you feel as ruined as I do. Do you feel what I feel? Does the same desire live in your chest? Does it claw at you and beg for more, for something you can’t give it?
Or am I the only one drowning in this need?
You don’t believe in love—that is clear—but perhaps you still feel…
something. Something for me. Something you may have felt all along.
Perhaps you know who I am as a soul, as a heart. ”
There’s more to say, but I can’t bring myself to. I don’t wish to be the one who tells him about the ball—and about Minetta’s lies. It feels like I am tricking him or forcing him into yet another betrothal.
When will he realize it was me all along? I was the one he was supposed to marry. Bitterness takes root in my stomach.
It all could have been so different.
“Ophelia… my little halfling.” His expression softens, and a heavy exhale falls past his lips. “With you, I’m learning to love. I’m learning what it means. I can’t say more than that.”
It’s more than I imagined he would give me. Emyr pulls me in two directions, elation and guilt rocking my stomach as if I’m on a boat in the raging sea.
I press my back to the door, searching for stability.
“But that’s enough.” I shake my head, laughing. “And yet, it’s not. You’re still betrothed. That’s not something you can so easily free yourself from.”
“I suppose not.”
I take a tentative step closer. “It doesn’t change how I feel, nor will it change your feelings. We must find a way to break this curse. We must—”
His hand finds the side of my face, as it did before, silencing me. His fingers move lower, brushing over the base of my neck. “I know what we must do.” He lowers his head. “May I…?”
He asks for permission this time. It’s sweet, but frustration still bubbles in me, and I can’t wait another moment.
“Yes,” I cry. “Yes, you fool.”
His laughter hums against my mouth as I plant a kiss on his, drinking his soul at last. I can feel what he feels for me for the first time—affection flowing through like a magic spell, lighting me on fire.
I pull back for air, and he chases me again, grunting into my mouth.
More. I need more.
Our mouths tangle, lips, teeth, and tongue as we devour one another whole. At last, I press my chest to his, desperate to eliminate the space between us.
We must merge. We must be close. Is this the alchemy Isa spoke of? I’ve been waiting…
Warmth blossoms and pulses between my thighs. I push closer to him, and stiffness presses against my leg. A gasp pushes out of my mouth and into his.
It’s been too long, but it’s still too soon.
Finally, I splay my fingers over his chest.
He forces himself away, peering at me with wild eyes. “What are you…?”
“I am doing what you did.” I step toward the door, and he moves out of my way. My finger grazes against the metal doorknob. There’s a mere foot of space between us, but it is too much. “I am running away. If you want me, you must come to me. I will not do this again.”
I’m gone before he can respond, or even grace me with a flicker of his beautiful smile.