Page 69 of Of Curses and Courtship

The magic in me compels me to keep to myself, but it’s harder to avoid her in the coming days. Every glimpse I get of her breaks my heart. She gives me the softest smile, thesort that feels as though it means something, and I melt in a moment.

Luckily, I’m busy. I’m strong enough to stay away… until I’m not. Until she asks for me.

“Emyr,” she calls out. “Come here, will you?”

Only Ophelia is bold enough to call a prince over from across the room—and without using my appropriate title. She smiles at me and lifts her brows, as if extending an invitation, and my heart goes racing. What am I to do?

My feet lead me to her of their own accord, drawing me in by a string connecting our chests. She turns away and focuses on cleaning my father’s portrait, running the duster over the frame.

My spine is straight and stiff. This is how Ophelia should see me—as the prince—but she’s never looked at me in such a manner, and I don’t want to. I long to hear her say my name again and again.

“Tell me,” she says, “why can this portrait never stay clean? Surely, it’s not part of the curse.”

“It’s not, and there’s no need to put in such great effort.” I lean against the wall. “My father is quite a dusty man—leaving a bit of grime makes his portrait true to life.”

She shoots me a withering look. “Your personal opinion of your father has no sway in the effort I put into my work, Your Highness.”

“None? Not even a bit?”

She shakes her head and moves on, running the duster against the wall. “What is it that you need? I’m quite busy.”

Spending time with Ophelia makes it seem as if the sun has returned to our palace.

Laughter bursts from my chest. “You calledmeover, little halfling.”

Perhaps she is being kept too busy. It’s rare for her to greet me so coldly, and I refuse to entertain the idea that it’sbecause I have been avoiding her. It hasn’t been long enough for her to notice that I’ve been standoffish… has it?

Ophelia does not see me the way I see her. If my nightmares are to be believed, it’s better that way.

“I suppose I did.” She fights off a smile of her own, turning away from me as if she means to hide the glimmer in her eye.

“I believe my father is overworking you.”

“One of us must work, and it certainly cannot beyou.”

“Ah! You wound me.” I rub a hand against my chest, feigning a sting, but there is no holding back my laughter. “I’ll have you know, I have been working hard for a century. I’m in retirement now.”

She doesn’t need to know about the late nights I’ve spent at the library as of late, with my nose stuck in books I’ve already read a dozen times over.

“That must be why you have so much time to bother me.”

“You truly are working too hard.” I move closer and snatch the feather duster from her. “It’s put you in a foul mood, and I don’t enjoy it.”

She glares. “My moods are none of your concern, Your Highness.”

I lift a brow. “And if I command you to take a break for the day? What shall you do then?”

“You would use your power against me?”

“Only for your well-being.” My heart hammers. I’m coming up with ideas I should no longer entertain, but no one can stop me. Tibalt, my voice of reason, is taking his own day for leisure. I’m the only one who can hold myself back, and I’m not strong enough to stay away from her for much longer. “Come with me. There’s so much of my land I wish to show you.”

Her face is stony, jaw clenched tight. Does she fight herself the way I do? It takes her several long moments tostring together an answer. “I can’t fathom where you would take me in this cursed land.”

“Then let me show you.” My gaze softens. “Please, little halfling?”

Her chest heaves. Our eyes meet for only a moment before she turns on her heel and storms off. “You must allow me to change from my work attire.”

“That’s fine.”