Page 124 of Of Curses and Courtship

I ignore her and kneel by the puddle, dipping a finger in and slowly circling the water, channeling my energy into the puddle. Closing my eyes, I summon a village. Any village but the one I grew up in. The Moon Palace. That would be lovely. We would be far enough that no one could ever find us…

“Ophelia.” Helena gasps. “It’s working. I can see it.”

“Then come on.” I hold out my other hand. “Let us go.”

Before she can respond or make a choice of her own, the portal pulls us in. The energy grabs me by the head, tearing each strand of my hair and vibrating my body. Every speck of magic in me bursts, pulls, twists.

I yelp, but it’s of no use.

Helena stands across from me, surrounded by lavender magic. For the first time since we’ve met, she looks at me with pure terror: eyes wide, lips parted on a silent scream.

She melts into a puddle.

The magic is taking us. It owns us. Owns me.

My stomach flips and flops. It’s as if I am a child rolling down a hill, collecting dirt and grass. It’s bumping and bruising. The vibration in my body grows. Intensifies. It’s as if I am nothing. No one. A blur of color and motion.

For a moment, I cease to exist.

And just as quickly, I burst back into reality.

Helena squeals as we land, both on our bottoms, in the middle of a quiet street. The ache in my behind brings me back to reality, proof that I still exist. That I’m alive.

“I did it!” Tears stream down my face. I sit up and wipe them away, peering around the darkened land. “But this isn’t the Moon Palace.”

“Who cares about where we are?” Helena laughs, somewhere between exuberant and terrified. “You created a bloody portal.”

“I suppose I did.” I stand, offer Helena a hand, and lift her to her feet. “Come on. Let us find an inn. Perhaps we can get a celebratory drink.”

“Please! I think we both deserve a drink after?—”

“I am afraid that isnotwhere you are going tonight.” A cruel voice speaks from over my shoulder.

I clutch Helena’s hand tighter and turn slowly, fighting my fears. The village. It is familiar, I realize… a place I know best.

And the face in front of me, wretched and beautiful, is one I know just as well.

“Lady Ashbridge.” My voice shakes. “What—what are you doing here?”

EMYR

I wake up alone.

Aside from the first night we spent together, Ophelia never wakes up before me. She enjoys her sleep. I’ve always suspected it is from a life of rising early to care for others, and I take great pride in letting her rest as much as she wishes. Some days, that means bringing her breakfast in bed—or calling for someone else to.

That’s the plan for this particular morning. She’s been low lately, and I fully intend to surprise her with waffles. Something sweet. Something to make her feel better.

That’s impossible—she is gone. She can’t have left for her duties, as she no longer works for the palace. Without truly knowing what went wrong, I immediatelyknow. My stomach is sick, and the room is colder without her.

Something is wrong with my betrothed. I knew it over dinner, though she tried to explain it away. How could I have ignored what was so plain to see?

I barge from my room and find the first guard in the halls.

“Where is Miss Ophelia?” I ask in a commanding tone.

The man freezes. “I do not know, Your Highness.”

“You haven’t seen her? You didn’t see her leave?”