Page 23 of Of Curses and Courtship

“Then allow me to be the first.”

The music ends, just for a moment, before transitioning into the next song. She steps away, her fingers slipping from mine, and drops into a bow.

“It would be untoward to steal another dance with you,” she says. “Other suitors are waiting for your attention, Your Highness.”

“And if I don’t wish to give it to them?” I meet her gaze. “One more dance. Please, my lady.”

She tilts her head to the side. “I will give you anything if you beg so nicely.”

The spark in her eye ignites one of my own. Yes, I would very much like to spend the evening with this peculiar fae.

OPHELIA

A prince. The man from the tavern is a prince. Not only is he a prince, but he istheprince—the one my stepmother warned me about. Am I terrible or wonderful for stealing him from dear Raia? She had her sights set on him, but it’s for the best that she never got the opportunity to find what she was seeking.

Her mother would hardly approve of the union.

There’s no one to approve or disapprove of my marriage with the prince, not that it will exist outside of my wildestdreams. He is Prince Emyr. I have known his name my entire life, and he still doesn’t know mine.

We’ve danced for so long that my feet hurt, but I don’t wish to stop. My fingers graze against his white, feathered wings—the most beautiful wings I’ve seen. Then again, I haven’t seen many. Mine are delicate, closer to a butterfly’s wings, but his are strong.

Being close to him is like being in the arms of a star. Warm. Intense. Gold dust transfers onto my fingertips, and I gasp.

His bright eyes remain locked onto mine, darkening. He whispers, “Do you know what it feels like when you touch me there, my lady?”

I bite my lip and shake my head. “Would you like to tell me?”

No one has ever touched my wings, and he still does not. His touch is perfectly appropriate, one hand lingering at my waist and the other clasping mine.

“It would be undignified to tell youhowit feels during our first dance.”

Oh. I run my fingers along the feathers again. “But this is our fifth dance, Your Highness.”

“Yet it’s too early to carry you to my bedchamber.” He sighs. “Perhaps once we finish our sixth, yes?”

The song comes to a slow, and my racing heart is a mismatch to the tune. He still wishes to spend time with me, after I’ve stolen so much. I shouldn’t…

How long will the spell hide my identity?

“But my feet are aching.” I laugh as I step away, my hands dropping from around his neck. “We may never reach that sixth dance. Apologies.”

“You are truly in pain?” He grins. “I can help with that.”

“What—”

Prince Emyr swoops me into his arms, displayingsurprising strength for a man who appears so slender. There’s nothing weak about the way he carries me to the bench, setting me down as laughter escapes me.

“You’re charming. I still don’t understand why you’re choosing to spend time with me?—”

“Hush.”

“Stop interrupting me.”

“I promise only to interrupt you when you speak foolishness about yourself.” He sets me down and fixes me with a serious look. “You’re wonderful, my mysterious friend. There’s a reason you’ve captured my attention all evening.”

“I would apologize for the theft, but I quite enjoy your company.”

There’s an earnestness behind my words, but none of it was real for him. I didn’t share my name, told him nothing about my life, and spent the evening picking his brain—anything I could learn of magic and the fae. Any question he asked about me, I deflected. I may not have let him past my many barriers, but that does little to stop the butterflies from filling my stomach when our eyes meet.