Page 27 of Of Curses and Courtship

At least I know the chemistry is there, and he’s more memorable than the rest. Perhapsheshould be my choice.

No. No. I cannot let my cock choose my suitor—I must use my mind. I must pick someone I can fall in love with, with whom I can break the curse.

The problem is that while my parents claim I connected with these people at the balls, I cannot remember most of them. All I can remember is the Moon Fae from the evening before—sparkling violet eyes, and wings, and?—

She is not here. Is she? When I scan the strange faces, I’m looking for her. My eyes fall upon red hair and pointed ears.

It doesn’t look exactly like her, but…

I step closer, squinting. “Will you please remove your glamour, miss?”

“Emyr!” my father booms. “Where did your manners go?”

The red-haired fae giggles, clasping her hand over her mouth. “I don’t mind. Truly.”

“Only if you’re sure.” I smile politely. “There’s something I’d like to see.”

With a wiggle of her nose and a shimmy of her shoulders,her purple wings unfold. Brilliant tattoos appear across her cheeks, purple flowers etched onto her skin like she is a work of art.

A Moon Fae. She must be… no. It cannot be. But it is. It isher—the Moon Fae from the ball.

The tattoos. I didn’t notice them last night, but that’s likely the work of the liquor. Her hair is more vibrant in the morning light, but this is the one I have been waiting for, and she is here now—the answer to not only my prayers, but the prayers of every fae in my kingdom.

My hand flies to my chest, my fingers fiddling with golden buttons. “Are you...?”

She nods. “I am Minetta, but you may call me Minnie.”

“Minnie.” My smile grows, and our eyes remain locked for several long moments.

“It seems he’s made his decision,” my mother whispers giddily.

“So he has,” my father says.

For the first time in many years, there is pride glinting in his expression.

OPHELIA

There’s only one place I can go. One person who will still care, even after a period of time apart.

My stepsisters pleaded with their mothers for the better part of the morning. Their little voices echo through the cold, lonely halls, but there is nothing to be done. The lady has made up her mind, and I’m packing my things.

It doesn’t take long to gather everything I own. It fits in a single bag.

All I’ve ever wanted was to free myself from this wretched home, but it was meant to be my choice. I’ve beenpracticing a speech for years, longing to tell the lady of the house how she mistreats me, how disappointed my father would be in her, and how terrible she is to her daughters.

Like so much else, my stepmother has taken that opportunity from me. The pain in my chest from living somewhere that is such a terrible fit only grows.

These are my last moments in my childhood home.

I can’t even stop to say goodbye to my stepsisters. They chose their side, and it can’t be mine.

I carry my single, lonely bag outside.

The path in front of me is uncertain, even though I know the streets of Far Water by heart and soul. Despite the lack of clarity, each step is lighter. I have no regrets. This may not be how I wanted to leave my stepmother behind, but I can make the best of it now that I am going.

This is good. Thiswillbe good.

My head is low as I push my way through town. I must be imagining the eyes that drag over me as I go.