Chapter Twenty-Eight
OPHELIA
Emyr’s parents, however much they may disapprove of me, plan our betrothal party with great speed. It appears they’re in a rush for the wedding, even if it’s with someone they look down upon.
Someone like me.
But no one can look down on me tonight. As I float through the room in my champagne gown, some may whisper that he’s moving on too quickly, but that’s of no consequence to me.
Helena is by my side, which also feels fated. She was my first friend in the palace, aside from Emyr himself, and she’s not here as an employee; I wouldn’t have allowed that. Tonight, she is our guest.
Her gown is nearly as brilliant as mine, a lovely forest green, and while Emyr has spent the night being dragged around by fae whom I don’t know, Helena and I entertain ourselves with sparkling drinks and tiny sandwiches.
“Are you sure your betrothed doesn’t need you?” she whispers. “He looks positively miserable.”
I glance in Emyr’s direction. He’s speaking to a masculine fae who appears older than any I’ve seen, with sparse hair and drooping cheeks. He must be thousands of years old. Emyr’s sweet smile fades by the moment.
“He appears to be in fine spirits.” I smile and press my lips against the rim of my glass. “He said he’ll handle the worst parts of our rushed marriage, and I would consider this one of them.”
“No one knows where she’s from,” someone whispers loudly.
I cringe.
“She appears to be a Moon Fae,” someone else says, “but…”
Helena gasps, her fingers flying to her parted lips. “They mustn’t realize you can hear them.”
“No,” I say. “They don’t care, and nor do I.”
I loop my arm with Helena’s and lead her away.
People will talk about us; Emyr already warned me.
Though I’ve never considered myself mysterious, they will, and they’ll have much to say about our blossoming courtship.
That we will be wed in just a few weeks will only add to the rumors.
They’ll think I’m with child, no matter how difficult it usually is for fae to become pregnant, or they’ll come up with another scandal entirely.
“I’ve always known the royals were rude,” Helena mutters, “but I didn’t know they would be this rude, especially to someone who’ll become their queen.”
Become their queen? No. I’m not ready to think about that.
I sniff. “I’m not surprised in the least.”
It’s all so much like my stepmother. The moment someone believes they are above you, whether by status or morals, they’ll try to push you even lower.
Regardless of the status I’ll gain once Emyr and I are married, they still look at me as a maid.
It doesn’t matter that I can no longer do my job, by royal order.
Helena looks off to the side. “Sadly, there’s something here that may surprise you. Hope you’re ready.”
My stepmother.
It must be.
I’m unsure how she received an invitation, but my heart is racing. Waiting. Waiting.
“No…” I look around for a wall to lean on.
“Princess Minetta is here,” Helena whispers. “And she’s coming right for us.”
Oh. Oh no. Is that better or worse than I expected? I turn around just in time for her to appear before me, with vibrant red hair and glistening lips. Her wings are a perfect match for mine, but unlike me, she knows how to command a room. Everyone is watching us. The whispering ceases.
This is the woman Emyr was supposed to marry.
After a moment of silence, the murmurs that have been following me all night grow. They’re a buzzing, deafening sound in my ear. If Princess Minetta greets me, I can’t hear it past the rushing of my pulse and the whispers.
They’re all whispering about me.
“Your Highness.” Without thinking, I curtsy. “How wonderful it is to see you.”
“There is no need for pleasantries, is there?” Minetta swirls wine around her glass. Now that she’s closer, I realize she looks unwell. Her eyes are sunken, her hair is frazzled, and her lips are pale. The end of her betrothal isn’t treating her well. “I am only here to congratulate you.”
“You do not have to…” I shake my head. “Who invited you, Princess?”
“The royal family, of course. We are allies. I will always receive an invitation.” There is a vague threat behind her softly spoken words.
I laugh nervously and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Of course. I would expect nothing less.”
I’ll simply have to grow accustomed to her presence.
Seeing the former betrothed of my betrothed is not the most terrible part.
I don’t think of myself as jealous, and what makes me sick isn’t that she once wished to marry Emyr—it’s that she deceived him.
I suppose I kept my secrets as well, but that was different.
I never kept a secret to force him to be with me, and I wouldn’t.
“I wanted to let you know that I have no ill will toward you.” Her voice drops. “I can see that you make him happier than I ever could, no matter how hard I tried.”
“I—”
“What is strange,” she says, “is that you and I are from the same palace, yet I have never heard of you. No one has. What is your name in its entirety?”
I hold my head higher. “Ophelia Fellowes.”
She squints. “Hm. No. It doesn’t ring even the faintest of bells. Where were you raised, Ophelia Fellowes?”
My hometown is nothing to boast about.
“Far Water,” I mumble.
“No!” She lets out a bark of laughter. “That’s a mortal town. No fae can possibly live there. You are not… heavens, you cannot be…”
Helena tugs on my arm, attempting to free me. “We are needed elsewhere.”
“Apologies.” Minetta’s smile becomes severe. “You must forgive my shock. I was not aware the prince was marrying a halfling.”
My jaw drops. “He’s not—”
“I hope you do not bring this kingdom more ruin than it has already seen. Ta-ta!”
My ears ring. She’s right. I have been hiding the truth, even from myself, for days and weeks. It’s so easy to forget what I truly am. The ruin of this kingdom.
Am I making a terrible mistake?
“I am—” I start.
Minetta leaves before I can get the lie past my lips. I can barely look at Helena, with her eyes wide—fear, I realize. My dearest friend is afraid of me.
“Are you… really a halfling?” Helena whispers. “That can’t be. You told me mortals brought you up, but I never imagined…”
The words are caught in my tight throat. How much longer can I lie to her? To the rest of the palace?
She nods, closing her eyes. “This is fine. I can accept this.”
Helena believes Minetta—and am I any better than the princess if I continue hiding such important matters from my friend?
Yet, it doesn’t appear as if she can accept it, as she claims she will. I worry she will be sick, and I worry the same for myself as fear twists knots in my stomach.
“Helena,” I whisper urgently, “you mustn’t fear me. I’m still me.”
“I know. I have no ill will for halflings, it’s just that in this land—”
“Do you think I’m unaware of the prophecy? Do you think I’ve lived a day without thinking of it?”
“Of course, you aren’t unaware.” She shakes her head. “This is quite the secret to keep. It may be nothing. The king and queen, do they…?”
“No—and they mustn’t know.” I rub my temples. “We must pray Minetta does not tell them. The prince loves me. Our marriage will break this curse. I am not the halfling in the prophecy.”
Helena touches my back tentatively. The slight touch is a comfort—it lets me know my friend is not entirely afraid of me. She shouldn’t be. We slept alone in a little room for so long; it should be plain to see that I am not a threat.
“I’m sure it will,” Helena says. “Prophecy or not, he adores you. That love has always been the key, right?”
“Indeed.”
I have greater questions than the curse and prophecy.
There is no way she could make such a leap. How in the realm does Minetta know what I am?
Fresh air will do me some good.
No one at this party knows me, nor do they want me here. A few people introduce themselves and congratulate me, but it doesn’t feel as if they mean what they say.
Worst of all, Emyr’s parents keep him busy. They sweep him around the ballroom all evening, leaving him no time to spend with me. I’ve never wanted to be the type who needs their partner’s attention, but on a night like this… I do. I need him right now.
The only other option is taking a moment for myself.
The world is pitch dark. The only light is from the wings of high fae scattered about near the ground, and the occasional pixie floating by. There’s not so much as a firefly to add to the brightness of the evening.
I lean against the stone rail of the balcony, pressing my cool fingers into the rough surface. My wings flutter in an urge to flee. Showing my wings to the world has become much more comfortable, but that desire to be elsewhere won’t go away so easily.
No matter how much I wish to be with Emyr.
Once again, I am left alone while those around me celebrate. The irony of it all is that now, they’re celebrating me.
“There you are.”
Even Emyr’s voice can’t help me relax tonight.
I turn to him and force on a smile, however half-hearted it may be. “Here I am, indeed.”
He steps closer. “I’ve been looking for you all evening.”
Perhaps if that were the case, I wouldn’t have faced Princess Minetta alone. Does he truly not understand what I’ve been through?
“Oh?” I lift a brow, press my lips together, and turn my head to the side. “It didn’t appear as if you were.”
His fingers brush against mine. “Are you upset with me, my little halfling? Apologies. I’m easily distracted in a crowd, I will admit.”
For the first time since we met, I flinch at the title he’s given me. Little halfling. It had once been taunting, and then sweet, and now… now, it’s a reminder of something I long to forget.
“No, no. Not upset—and certainly not with you.” I squeeze his hand, reminding myself that he is here—I’m not alone. “This party isn’t really for us, is it?”