Page 12 of Of Curses and Courtship

“You do. You channeled the element of air. Do you know which kingdom you are from, little halfling?”

“I-I am a Moon Fae.”

“Ah…” I chuckle softly and smooth back a piece of her hair, only for the wind to blow it out of place. “We are channeling the jovial element now. Moon magic will come even easier to you. All you must do is practice.”

The air settles, her magic waning as quickly as it grew. Her chest still heaves, pressed to mine, and my fingers brush over her soft, now-pointed ear.

A breath catches on her lips. “I have never experienced something so wonderful.”

“And how do you feel now?”

“I feel… powerful.”

“You are.” I narrow my eyes, ducking my head until our faces are inches apart. “Don’t let anyone make you feel anything but powerful, little halfling. Do you understand?”

She nods silently.

“Good.” I force myself to step back, her fingers slipping from mine. The act we performed is nothing, yet it feels as intimate as if we had kissed until our lips bruised.

That won’t do. I’m here to find my spouse, after all, and this halfling can’t be the one—no matter how her lavender eyes call to me, no matter the generous way her hips curveoutward, as if begging for me to bite into them. We could never be, not with the prophecy pushing us apart.

I know the words as if I wrote the prophecy myself: a halfling will bring ruin to the land. My parents would never permit me to marry one, nor should I be thinking about such things.

Tibalt knocks on the door. “Your Highness.”

He doesn’t have to say anything more. I know he’s here to ruin my fun, and perhaps he should. Tibalt is my friend, but my parents are the ones who employ him.

I let out a soft, weary sigh. “I’m afraid I must leave.”

“So soon? Can we not continue our practice?”

My lips tug up at the corners. “You must find another teacher. I’ll be out of this town before I can see your growth—and grow, you will. I’m sure of it.”

CHAPTER FOUR

OPHELIA

Imade a grave mistake, one that leaves me ambling home, covered in the blanket of night and buzzing from the shared drinks. From the outside, the darkened home is quiet, peaceful, and stylish. There’s only one thing, one person, who can ruin such a lovely evening.

Lady Ashbridge stands on the front porch, draped in black. Years have passed, but it’s as though she never stopped mourning after Father’s funeral.

“My lady,” I murmur, ducking my head as I slip past her. “Excuse me.”

I’m never fast enough.

“I am sure you will be full of excuses by the night’s end. Where do you think you are going?”

I lift my bag, smiling sheepishly. “To put the groceries away.”

“Ah. Of course. Surely groceries kept you out until the dead of the night and nothing else.No oneelse.”

How does she know? Did someone follow me?

My throat tightens, and I look back, but there’s no one behind me.

“I can’t pretend to know what you mean,” I say in a high-pitched voice.

Lady Ashbridge closes the door behind us with a thud. She fiddles with the lock—CLICK. The sound is final. I’m trapped in my father’s home.