Page 17 of Cursed By Gold

Embarrassment wells up again, and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to admit, "After I kissed the King," I say quietly, unable to meet her gaze, "I twisted my ankle and had to leave the shoe behind to escape."

Fairy godmother's eyes widen in surprise, and she reaches out to take my hand. "You kissed him?" she asks, her voice a mix of astonishment and concern.

My face grows hotter. "It wasn't planned. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but at the time it seemed like my best bet to escape," I say, my voice small and unsure.

She looks at me, her brows furrowed in concern. "Scarlet, you know you're not one of our operatives that we send on those kinds of missions. Are you alright?" she asks, her voice gentle but firm.

I nod, taking a deep breath. "I'm fine," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "It was a momentary lapse of judgment, and it won't happen again."

Her expression softens a bit, but the worry doesn't leave her eyes. "It's not that I don't believe you, Scarlet," she says, her voice filled with maternal concern, "it's just that this type of mission is usually reserved for our more... experienced thieves."

Panic rises in my chest. "Please don't do this," I beg, looking up into her eyes pleadingly. "I can do this—I've gone too far for it all to be for nothing. I NEED this."

Fairy godmother seems to understand the desperation in my voice and nods slowly. "Very well," she says finally. "But you must promise me that if anything goes wrong or if you feel overwhelmed at any point, then you will come back here immediately. Don't act rashly. We will keep our eyes open for another opportunity."

A sigh of relief escapes me, and I nod fervently. "I promise," I say with conviction, wiping away a stray tear.

Fairy godmother squeezes my hands, a soft, encouraging smile playing on her lips. "It's late, and I'm not as young as I once was. Do you need help getting home?"

I shake my head, still trying to steady my emotions.

"If you insist. Good luck, Scarlet. Be safe. We will be in touch soon."

With that, she leaves the room, her presence lingering like a warm hug. Left alone with my thoughts, a mix of nervous energy and determination courses through me. I lace up my boot carefully, double-checking that everything is in place before stepping back into the night. Fairy godmother must have used a bit of magic as she healed me. It’s tender but doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it did on the way here.

The cool breeze brushes my face as I hobble back home, feeling more and more like a hunted animal with each step. Every instinct screams to run, but the small amount of pain left in my ankle slows my pace. As I navigate the darkened streets, shadows seem to move in the corners of my vision, keeping me on high alert.

***

The sun is shining high in the garden, casting long shadows across the leafy green tops of the carrots. I carefully spread a bed of leaves over them to save them for a later harvest, taking care to sit down whenever the weight on my ankle becomes too much. My mouth waters, thinking of the fresh sweet crunch they will develop after another frost. My ankle, still a bit tender from the past few days, is on the mend, but I can't risk hurting it again.

Adjusting my position on the soft earth, I ensure my movements are steady and deliberate. I might be stubborn, but I'm not foolish enough to push my ankle beyond its limits. Each time it starts to throb, I pause, massaging it gently before resuming my task. The smell of the fresh soil and the thought of a future harvest keep me motivated, even as I balance caution with my work.

This garden, a sanctuary of sorts, offers me a momentary escape from the chaos of the household. The carrots are thriving, and the thought of their sweet crunch after another frost makes the effort worthwhile. I let out a small sigh, both content and cautious, knowing that every action here impacts not just the garden, but my own recovery as well.

Just as I am finishing up, I hear Petunia calling my name. I lift my head and see her standing at the garden's edge, her silk skirts gathered in her hands, her face twisted in derision. "You need to come inside," she says in a clipped voice. "We have a visitor in the parlor."

I sigh, knowing that I won't be able to continue with my gardening. If Petunia has been sent to find me, Stepmother is behind it. There is no other reason she would risk sunning her pale and delicate skin.

Taking a deep breath, I push myself forward, determined not to let my tender ankle slow me down. I rise carefully, doing my best to mask any sign of a limp, though a wince escapes as the soreness flares up. Petunia, of course, stands there useless, her eyes narrowing in disdain at the dirt smudging my clothes. Typical.

By the time I reach the house, I manage to maintain a steady pace, though my ankle protests with every step. Once inside, I head straight for my bedroom, moving as quickly as I can. I hastily change out of my gardening clothes, scrubbing away the dirt with practiced efficiency. Despite my efforts, I know it will never be enough to meet Stepmother's impossible standards.

When I finally make my way to the parlor, I am greeted by an unexpected sight. Duke Geralsh stands tall at the center of the room, flanked by Stepmother and Petunia. His white hair frames a shiny bald patch, and his cane trembles in his hand. The sight of Starla's cruel grin sends a chill down my spine. This won't be pleasant.

My heart sinks as the reality of their plans dawns on me. The teasing my stepsisters have tossed around about marrying me off to Duke Geralsh wasn't just idle chatter. How much does my stepmother hate me that she would resort to this?

I swallow hard, my stomach tying in knots. Every instinct screams at me to run, but I know better. Instead, I straighten my shoulders, lift my chin, and prepare to face whatever comes next.

"What is the meaning of this?" Stepmother says, her voice like ice, as she gestures to my hands.

I glance down and notice how the dirt from outside still lingers beneath my nails.

"Please forgive her appearance. She really can clean up quite well when encouraged."

She has a way of making me feel so small with just one look. I mumble an apology before stepping forward to greet our guest. I bow my head respectfully and speak, my voice shaking despite myself. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Grace."

He nods curtly in response before turning his attention back to Stepmother.

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