Page 35 of Of Curses and Courtship

Hold it together. Everything is all right. You are only?—

A yelp breaks me from my spiral, and a young woman is pressed to my chest, my hands gripping her elbows.

A fae.

A… a maid…

No. Not just any fae.

It is the little halfling from the tavern.

OPHELIA

Finding my footing in the Sun Palace is easier than expected. Thanks to Isa’s magic, no one recognizes me from the ball, and they accept me as I am.

As a fae and maid, of course, never as a halfling. Nevertheless, it is comforting to drop my glamour for so long.

The outfit I wear while working, a long black gown, is not as glamorous as my attire at the ball, but it is free of holes, and the little white hat is growing on me… sort of.

It’s easy to make friends with my roommate and the other workers. Even though I spend my days cleaning up after strangers, it’s a softer life than I’m used to—until I run into something rather hard. Prince Emyr is surprisingly chiseled, if a bit bony.

I didn’t see the prince in my first few days at the palace. It had been a disappointment and a relief, but in the end, it’s best to avoid him. I came to a place of acceptance, knowing I would probably never see him again.

He’s marrying someone else, after all; the palace is abuzz with the rumors. I’ve gotten good at smiling and pretending that I care about the royal engagement.

Now, he runs into me, wearing wild eyes and a tear-stained face. My frustrations dissolve into concern, his eyebrows scrunching together as he steps away and wipes his face on the back of his hands.

“Pretend you saw nothing,” he mutters.

How am I supposed to greet a prince? I’ve been taught, but the instructions slip from my mind.

“That will not be a problem, Your Highness.” I bow. “I am spectacular at keeping secrets.”

“Stand up, little halfling.” He lets out a choked laugh and shakes his head. “What are you doing here…? Gods, I still don’t know your name, do I?”

“You do not.” I hesitate. Does he recognize me from the tavern, or from the ball? Either way, it’s safe to give him the information now. “Ophelia is my name, if you must know.”

“Ophelia.” His shoulders drop. “I suppose that answers one of life’s mysteries. I was disappointed not to see you atmy ball, you know. Didn’t you receive an invitation? We invited everyone in Far Water.”

He does not recognize me from the ball, then. I should be relieved, but the feeling never visits me—instead, a strange sensation I hardly recognize twists in my gut. Am I… envious? There is no room for envy in my new life. I’ve been given everything I’ve wanted and more. I’m free. That’s all I have ever needed.

Is lying to a prince about something so minuscule as a ball an act of treason? Surely not.

“I did”—my throat tightens—“but I could not make it, Your Highness. Apologies.”

“Ah. Probably for the best. It was a bore, as far as balls go.”

Then he thinks our time together was boring? What a brat. If only I could tell him who I am.

“Was it?” My tone sharpens. “Rumor has it you met your wife-to-be at that ball. Do not let her hear you say such things so plainly… Your Highness.”

His eyes twinkle, no longer from tears, but from the mischievous side of him I’m so used to, even after our short time together. “I thought you were good at keeping a secret, my… well, I suppose you truly are not a lady, at least not in title, are you?”

I scowl. “I told you that from the start.”

This isn’t how I should speak to a prince—it’s not how anyone should—but this prince in particular is quite vexing. He is a rake, a terror, spoiled, a bit of a brat, and…

He still looks quite fetching, even with his eyes red from tears. I push away the treacherous thought.