Page 8 of Not Another Happily Ever After

A slow, wicked grin stretches across his illuminated features, giving the air of a madman coming undone. If I didn’t alreadytaste regret on my tongue, the words that followed would have had me choking on it.

“To finally see this curse undone.”

Chapter

3

It is a peculiar cruelty to ask a

princess to save a kingdom that

refuses to love her.

The walk back to the tower is painfully slow. Dread consumes my every step and a single question loops tirelessly through my mind.Which one will be my last?

The last act of the curse was completed years ago, yet it feels like only yesterday. I had just been born when they took the sharp edge of a blade to my neck to complete the first act. I was blinded in one eye shortly after, leaving me with the silvery white pupil and iris that remains today. These were among the firstmarks to be left on my body, though they were far from the most painful.

My knees nearly buckle beneath me at the memory of the last. I had never known man to be so savage. So cruel. By the end of the night, I was begging for the knife forced into my hands to be run through my own chest. I was certain they had taken all there was for me to give.

I see now I should have guarded that hope more closely. It was foolish to think even that was safe from falling into their hands.

I look to Galahand, who nervously fidgets with his fingers, still hoping to find some shred of reassurance in his tired eyes. The smallest inkling that tonight won’t be my last. But he offers little more than echoing footfalls as we ascend the winding staircase up and out of the undercroft.

He’s completely shut me out.

It’s probably for the best. One less goodbye.

A swift breeze welcomes us as we emerge into the corridor, and riding it are rich notes of honey-roasted boar, lemon possets, and spiced wine. My favorites all blend together to create an intoxicating aroma. Who would have thought the smell of impending doom would be so sweet?

“Princess?” Galahand’s hushed voice creeps over my shoulder, startling me.

I turn enough to see his large form shrinking from the passing torch lights mounted on the walls.

“Yes?” I reply, unsure why exactly we are whispering, or from whom we are hiding our voices.

The castle’s main grounds have barely any stations remaining. Apart from the skeletal staff that cook our meals, the single handmaiden that tends to both Mother and me, and what’s left of Father’s guard, there’s no one here. Even thepeople we rule over are miles and miles away, scattered along the disenchanted border where most of Ruin’s military are kept.

I stop, unsure whether he heard my reply.

“Don’t stop. Keep walking,” Galahand hisses, ushering me forward. “There is something you must know about this curse. About all those it affects. More importantly,how it affects them.”

Beneath his breath he mutters, “if only we had more time.”

My chest squeezes at his grave implication, but I do as he says, slowing my steps under his guiding hand.

“The curse may have set the rot loose across our realm. But it was not the curse that destroyed it. That honor belongs to the real monsters: the royals and their regents.”

Every hair on the back of my neck stands tall as a needle-cold dread spreads through me.

“You can’t possibly believe that. Gally, you mustn’t.” I nearly give him a sharp look, but think better of giving my full attention to such a treasonous idea.

“The kingdoms are not to blame,” I add. “The Evil Queen is. You know as well as I that if she hadn’t been meddling with magic, or the Redhoods—” thinking of the group of well-known anti-royal rebels makes me shudder, “—none of this would have happened. She was found plotting against the King of Riches, her own husband!” I shake my head, tossing a cautionary glance over my shoulder. “The kings—the people, they are not at fault. Not for the fire. Not for the curse.”

Resolve wavers on my tongue but I bite down on it, refusing to believe that the very people working tirelessly to break us from this curse are the ones that caused it. “And they’re certainly not to blame for the scars I carry,” I add.

Galahand huffs out an exasperated breath, as if I am the one speaking utter nonsense, and it takes everything in me not to turn. Someone needs to shake some sense into the old manbefore he loses more than just his mind. Before I can say just that, Galahand’s long bony fingers curl tight around my forearm and he leans in close to my ear.

“You don’t understand, princess. I don’t believe this curse is what we think it is. I think there is another piece at play here. One far more powerful than death. You must see the first-born son freed.”