Page 17 of Of Curses and Courtship

As I enter the palace, I stretch my white, feathered wings out and groan. The knights at my side startle, scurrying away so the feathers don’t smack them in the face. Drops of glittering gold fall as I flap, just twice, getting a proper stretch for the first time all day.

“Mother. Father.” I bow. “Thank you for sending your finest soldiers to escort me. As you can see, I’ve arrived safely. You can rest peacefully tonight.”

“How can I ever rest knowing my son is so reckless?” My mother narrows her eyes. “You should count your blessings,princeling. The mortals outside of this palace are not so kind to us.”

“Yes… and? I’m stronger than they could ever be. Why would I fret about upsetting a mortal?”

“And as arrogant as ever.” My father pinches the bridge of his nose. “How will we ever find a suitor for you?”

I flash a smile. “With ease, considering my title and good looks.”

“Ah… but, of course.” My father waves a hand to the knights. “You are dismissed. Thank you for your good work.”

Tibalt remains at the door, lingering just close enough to eavesdrop. He loves seeing me scolded—especially when he is not the one doing it.

“We will leave this dreaded land in three days,” my mother says. “Until the night of the ball, please remain within the palace walls.”

“But it’s so cramped in here.”

“You can enjoy the garden,” my father says. “I think you’ll find it quite spacious.”

“I think I will not. The garden is half the size of ours, and there’s so much more for me to explore in this town.”

I’ve already met a halfling—something I keep to myself. She’ll remain my secret, a pocket of brightness in the dreary search for my perfect spouse.

My search for the one who will break the curse.

If my parents are already worried about mortals, they’ll be more concerned about a halfling. I don’t believe she is the prophesied one, but there’s no saying what my parents will think. They’re paranoid and old-fashioned, as one tends to be when they are nearing a thousand years old.

Perhaps I’m too optimistic to trust that she may not be the dreaded one from our tales, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll never see the moon halfling again.

“I know what has you so worried.” My mother’s expressionsoftens, and she steps forward, taking my hand. “Don’t fret, princeling. If you can’t find anyone to marry in this town, we will move on to the next. There are plenty of eligible suitors for you to fall in love with.”

Of course, my mother thinks that is my concern. Has she considered that I don’t wish to marry for such reasons?

I scowl. “That is not my worry, Mother.”

My parents taught me the truth of our darkened land when I was still a lad. The curse will not break until an heir to the Sun Throne marries their true love. I am the only one who seems to realize what tremendous pressure comes with it—perhaps because I am the only heir.

And I was nothing more than a spare.

What if I choose wrong, and I can’t fall in love with them? What if they don’t love me? Or worse, what if I’m unable to love at all? What if I fall in true love every other night, whenever I find an attractive fae to bed? The sorceress who cursed my father used those words—true love—on purpose, to ensure that we are never free of her hatred.

True love is a rare thing, after all.

I pull my hands from my mother’s and rub my frigid chest.

“Go,” my father says. “Rest until you are sober. Whatever your worries are, they will be gone when you can think straight.”

Perhaps I should be offended by the sudden dismissal, but I’m not. I don’t care why they’re sending me away, as long as I can break free of them for the remainder of the evening.

I saunter to the door. “But I’m thinking straight now.”

“How can that be when you cannotwalkstraight?” my father asks in a booming voice, one tinged with amusement.

I humor him with a laugh. It’s the least I can do, considering what a disappointment I am.

Beneath all my father’s jests and snide comments, there isa hidden truth none of us dares to speak, words that echo in my shadowed mind when I am at my lowest: the wrong son died, and I will fail our land.