Page 56 of Of Curses and Courtship

“Helena—”

“And I can’t escape.” Her breaths come out in harsh, hungry pants, as if she cannot get enough air. “Others leave in droves, flee to the other palaces, but I can’t afford the way. Not for me. Not for my family. I can’t leave.”

“I’m sorry, dear friend.” I touch her shoulder gently. “I didn’t know you had a desire to leave. If I could help in any way?—”

“Well, you can’t, so it’s best not to speak of it.”

I understand now. Perhaps it’s true that the inhabitants of this land prefer not to speak of the curse or give it their energy, but for Helena, it is more than that. This curse traps her.

Though she remains uncursed, perhaps it doesn’t feel that way.

My curiosity should end there, but it doesn’t. It follows me, and to no end, for no one else will speak to me on the topic. Lucille brushes me off, tells me to continue working. The cooks nudge me out of the kitchen. The other maids look at me as if I have gone mad, and perhaps I have. Emyr and his darling beast are all I can think of, and I can’t help them.

The night finally falls. I consider looking for Emyr around the palace, but he may not wish to speak with me. He has his betrothed for support, and his family, but…

He may want another friend, and we are friends. Aren’t we?

“Come on,” Helena says the instant I enter our bedchamber. “We’ve worked too long. I can’t stay inside these palace walls for another bloody moment.”

This is all my doing; she must be in a sour mood from our earlier conversation. I’ve rarely seen Helena so stir-crazy.She ambles around the room, collecting items and throwing them into her reticule.

I shift my stance and rub my cheek. “Where are we going?”

“You shall see, and you’ll enjoy it. Let’s leave now, before Lucille finds more work for us to do.”

“All right.” I am not in the mood to drink, but for her… “If you require a companion, you have one.”

Helena smiles—a tired smile, but a smile, nevertheless. “Have you ever drunk fae wine, Ophelia?”

Of course not. Until I came to the Sun Palace, I was told that fae drink and food are used to control the mind. That’s not the case, or at least it hasn’t been my experience, but those old fears are hard to kill.

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

“Then you’re in for a treat. C’mon.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EMYR

“Another round!” I shout.

The elderly men at the bar all cheer. It’s the third round of drinks I’ve paid for, and it may not be the last.

I should be in the library. I certainly shouldn’t be surrounded by drunken locals who pretend not to recognize me.

Tibalt looms nearby. Some nights, I wish he would leave me alone, but I find comfort in having him by my side tonight. At least he smells better than the rest—the tavern reeks of sickness, sweat, and ale. Once I drink enough, I won’t care, nor will I care about the sticky bar beneath my shaking hands.

Yes, keeping Tibalt close is for the best. I can’t lose another friend. Not now.

Not ever.

“Will you tell me why you’re drinking yourself sick?” Tibalt asks, quiet enough that no one else can hear, though there’s no disguising the edge of disappointment in his voice.

“I’d rather not speak of it.” I lift the glass and drain it in one swoop, savoring the burn sliding down my throat. “And,before you ask, it’s not from superstition that I remain silent. I simply don’t wish to speak. Not at all.”

“For a man who doesn’t wish to speak, you certainly talk a lot.” He sweeps the tavern once, twice, and turns back to me. “It’s about the curse, then? About Spark?”

I turn my head and shoot him a glare. “You already know? Does everyone in the blasted palace know?”