Page 60 of Of Curses and Courtship

The flutter of her lashes rouses nothing in me. She only reminds me of?—

Her lips press to mine. It’s a soft kiss, over in a moment, and... there is nothing. No fire, no desire to pull her close and kiss her again. I’ve kissed many before, though I should not admit it to such a lady, and there is usually… more.

Perhaps my low energy is to blame, but there may be a bigger problem.

Is this truly how she chooses to comfort me?With kisses, rather than with words?

My chest twinges.

I force on a soft smile as she lowers herself to her feet. My hands clench into fists, not from an urge to touch her, but with frustration at myself. Kissing is not loving. I’ve kissed people for less, people I cared about less. It should be easy. I should want to try again, but I don’t.

“Thank you,” I murmur. “You didn’t have to?—”

“But I want to. You are my betrothed. All I have ever wanted is to be close to you, and I know there is still a wall between us. Don’t fret. It will drop with time.”

Will it?

There is nothing more to say. I break away from her gaze. More and more, when I look into her eyes, I see Ophelia. More and more, when I think of our future marriage, I’m reminded of my parents.

Minetta allows me to remain silent on the walk. It’s an uncomfortable silence, and I long for banter to fill the space. I still yearn for someone else, always wanting exactly what I cannot have.

This must come to an end.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

OPHELIA

We haven’t touched in days, but I can still feel the tingle where his ungloved hands held mine.

Less favorable memories are trapped in my mind as well: his cousin ranting and raving about how he shouldn’t speak with me. How would she feel knowing we did more than speak, that we brushed fingers and laughed like old mates?

How would the rest of his family view our friendship?

It doesn’t matter. He returns to behaving as though I hardly exist. When we pass one another in the corridor, he gives me a curt nod and continues with his important life. Emyr has so much else to worry about, between planning a wedding and caring for a sick companion.

Yet, my stomach drops each time I see him. A naive part of me hopes for another second of his time, but that’s time he owes Princess Minetta, not me. He’s hosting afternoon tea with his betrothed and, of course, I’m working for them.

I force a polite smile and carry the tray in. Of all the dreary rooms in the castle, this may be the prettiest. Cool light peeks through the windows, and a young woman playsthe piano in the corner of the room, producing soft music that speeds up and slows down, then speeds up again. The portrait of sunflowers, livelier than any living flower in the cursed Sun Palace, brightens the space.

I set the tray on the table without saying a word. No one speaks to me. It’s as intended. Helena follows me, quick and quiet as she delivers a second tray.

Across the room, I can feel Emyr searching for me. He draws my attention, even though I don’t wish to give in. He is markedly different in this space, compared to how he is in the quiet moments we’ve shared; I hardly recognize him like this. His colorful jackets have been replaced with dark fabric, and blue bruises color his skin beneath his droopy eyes. His hair, once shining in the light, hangs limp and lackluster.

The corner of his lip tugs up, and while it’s usually easy to return his smiles, I must force myself to do so now. Seeing him like this gives me no pleasure. I know the signs of deep sorrow when I see them.

Spark still lives, as far as I know, but Emyr is already mourning him. All the while, he’s supposed to be in love with the one at his side, but he appears so unhappy.

Perhaps he’s not in love at all. He does not look at her, doesn’t smile for her; he looks atme.

No. I push that evil thought away, turn on my heel, and leave them. I have no place in this room. Even if she weren’t with him, I could never take up space in his life. He’s a prince, and I’m the one who brings him his tea.

EMYR

Another day. Another dreaded cup of tea, when I should be deep in studies. I spend my evenings with my noseburied in a book and my days… like this. Planning for a wedding I don’t care about. A wedding that won’t break the curse.

A brief moment locking eyes with Ophelia gives me more of a thrill than speaking with Minetta, and I don’t understand how things between me and my betrothed could have changed so swiftly.

Why can’t I love her?