Page 106 of Curse the Fae

He’s not being crude, only honest. And befuddled and irate.

And something else. Something frail.

Truly, I don’t know why I’ve covered myself. It was instinctual. Suddenly, it’s clear that’s what upsets him.

“How long haveyouknown it was me?” I ask.

His expression cinches as he glances toward my hands. “To answer that, I must tell you the history first.”

So, he does. It’s a history that isn’t found in the Book of Fables.

I scoot closer as Elixir brushes his fingers against mine. “Long ago, there lived two ancient Solitaries—a female of the seelie court, another of the unseelie court,” he narrates. “Both were the last of their kind, Fae witches who deserted their homes in favor of the Solitary wild, where they could practice their magic freely without the intervention or manipulation of political intrigue. They were the first of their kind to inhabit the landscape amongst the fauna. After that, more Faeries came to the mountain, forest, and river, and then more were born here…”

By the time three mortal scribes began traveling the environment and collecting research for the Book of Fables, the Solitary wild was thriving and populated. The two original pioneers of this world maintained differing opinions about this: The seelie witch supported the scribes’ endeavor, but the unseelie one didn’t. The latter feared it would inevitably condemn Faeries if humans were to learn about their culture. She sensed this wasn’t just about educating humans but empowering them, protecting them.

However, the rest of her kin either hadn’t taken the book seriously or translated it as a tool to appear even more frightening to mortals. Regardless of the guidelines and morals for survival, Faeries have always been too self-assured in their power and imperviousness. They take this privilege for granted, scarcely believing mortals wise enough to outwit or outlast the Folk.

Besides, there was only so much they’d permit the scribes to learn. Because of that and several convenient bargains, the scribes had been tolerated by the Solitaries and received a guarantee of protection from the seelie witch.

“Enraged by this, the unseelie female had lashed out in the only way she knew how: vengeance,” Elixir continues, the word trapped between his teeth, as if he understands its flavor.

The unseelie witch had placed a curse on Reverie Hollow, a newly established village outside The Faerie Triad. She performed a spell on the town’s first and only water source—the ancient water well, where I first laid eyes on Elixir.

In storybooks, wells grant wishes. But this one forged curses.

Should any humans make contact with this well, they would have the power to curse the next individual with whom they interacted. That’s how it had linked me and Elixir. I’d pressed my hand to the glass that night, and then he’d responded by ramming his fist into the partition.

Such vile enchantment. This unseelie spell not only deterred mortals from using the necessary well, but it was also a means to incite disorder and sabotage progress, a weapon to disarm humanity despite the Fables. This, because the superior Fae witch foresaw destruction within the scribes’ book.

Elixir expels a coarse breath. “You see, the unseelie witch was my ancestor.”

At first, I assume he’s speaking figuratively, the same way he calls Cerulean and Puck his brothers. But no, Elixir’s being literal.

“I’m an offshoot of a line on my mother Lorelei’s side,” he sneers. “Ironic and a gross oversight, how my ancestor had not foreseen a human cursing another Fae, much less one of her descendants. To combat this, her seelie opponent had placed a counter spell on the well: To break a curse, the bewitcher must see, feel, andenact the opposite of old truths and past deeds. Naturally, the seelie witch did not tell her nemesis about this. Instead, she had the scribes tuck the breadcrumbs into a Fable entitledWhen a Snake Bewitches a Viper. That is where it has been cemented ever since.”

It takes a while for his attention to stray from our hands to the vicinity of my face. “I knew you were my downfall from the beginning. It happened that night, in the stream with you. One moment, we were combatting underwater. The next, I could not see your face. When I returned home, I knew the well had given you the magic to curse me.

“To that end, I did not tell you what the curse-breaking entailed for the same reason I did not tell youwhocursed me. For this game, that would have given you leverage, a greater chance of winning. As for the Fable, I trusted you would not know or remember the tale, among the hundreds that exist.”

Considering the water well’s age, few of my neighbors recall the particulars of its curse. Over generations, it’s been reduced to variations and hybrids. The villagers of Reverie Hollow have always said the well was damned, but none could say exactly how.

Presumably, the former players of Elixir’s game hadn’t made the connection, either. Otherwise, those mortal sacrifices would have questioned when they’d had the chance to curse him, since only the bewitcher can break the spell.

I can’t decide what staggers me more. The ancient tale, the length of Elixir’s monologue, or the details of his confession. “Do your kin know?”

“All the Solitaries are aware I was cursed,” Elixir says. “But none know it was you.”

I can fathom why he’d withheld this in the beginning. A while back, I had theorized as much. Learning what I’d done could have been a vital clue to breaking the curse, a situation he wouldn’t have wanted.

“I understand why you clammed up at first. But that was then,” I say, my heart stuck in my mouth. “What about now?”

Elixir opens his mouth, then shoots off the bed and turns.

I rise to stand behind him, refusing to be denied. “You bastard.” Rancor sizzles across my tongue. “It’s been nearly a month since the Middle Moon Sail, and after all this time, after all that’s happened between us, you still never said a word. Whether or not the information would help me, there was always the possibility of an advantage. You willingly denied me that!”

His shoulders pinch, as if the words have stabbed him. Here we are, unclothed, stripped bare, and separated by inches while the bath hurls steam into the air. We could have slept, like a normal couple. We could have woken and made love again, like a normal couple. We could have eaten together and bathed, like a normal couple.

But we’ll never be that.

---