Page 128 of Of Curses and Courtship

“I am here to tell you that you must be married by the full moon.” His voice is stern; there is no room for argument, even though the rebuttal is poised on my lips. “I allowed youto take your time before, but we no longer have such a luxury. You will marry Minetta. It is final.”

The full moon is mere days away, and I was supposed to marry Ophelia, but she is gone.

“No. I will not. Marrying her won’t break the curse.”

“But it will bring forth an heir who can, with time.” He looks at Spark and shakes his head, turning away. “You have failed. It will be done, or we can consider this another failure.”

“Father—“

“Enough. I know I am the one who should apologize.” His shoulders slump. “I am the one to blame for this curse, not you, but I can no longer allow our people to die—and kill. There must be a wedding, and your bride must bear an heir. We can delay it no longer.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

EMYR

I’m a mess. I sit in the garden with my head pressed to a tear-soaked marble bench. My wings wrap around my body. Each fresh tear stings my salted skin.

My friend will die soon. My kingdom is crumbling. Ophelia is gone.

The most dreadful part is that my father is right. He may be the reason for the curse, but I’m the only one who can break it, and I’ve failed. Perhaps I could have been a better partner for Ophelia. There must be some way I could have made her want to stay.

We could have been married. We could have saved everyone.

“Please.” I cringe at the congested sound of my voice and grip the edge of the bench. My bony knees press into the cold, hard ground, surely bruised by now.

I’m pathetic. Just pathetic.

“You poor thing,” a soft voice murmurs. “What are you begging for, princeling?”

I lift my head. The flash of purple wings, even accompanied by stark white hair, reminds me of Ophelia. But no. Ofcourse, it is not her. It’s the strange Moon Fae from the tavern. Why, oh why, is she following me? Each time I see her, she torments me. Each time, I think it’s my beloved.

“Leave me.” I sniffle and turn my head away, embarrassed at the idea of a stranger seeing me in this state.

“I can do that, if it is truly what you want—or I can help.”

“How could you help?”

“With a simple wish, of course.”

Wish magic is not to be trusted. It may be helpful at times, but other times, it’s useless. The worst fae can even use their magic in tricky ways, as we often do.

“Can a wish cure a curse?” I ask dryly.

“Sadly, it cannot.”

“Then what good are you?” I stand and brush off my knees, attempting to regain my dignity. “I apologize for my bluntness, but this day has been horrible. Dwelling on faerie tales and wishes will do me no good.”

“But you are a fae. Why don’t you believe in our magic?”

‘There is greater magic.” I gesture to the darkened garden. “Look at the evidence. This dreaded curse can take one of us at any moment, and we’ll rip one another to shreds. We’ll hurt innocent mortals. This cruel magic is something your wishes cannot break.”

“Marrying Ophelia will break the curse. Of that, I am certain.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“I have my ways.”

There is no need to askwhatthose ways may be. Each Moon Fae has a psychic gift. For Ophelia, it’s the ability to know what one is feeling. Others can see the past, future, or present. What this fae does with her magic is none of my concern.