Page 78 of Cursed By Gold

Fairy Godmother pats my hand. "I wanted you to know the full truth."

I squeeze her weathered hand. "Thank you for confiding in me. Your actions saved his life - do not carry guilt for that kindness."

She smiles sadly at my determination.

I sit quietly for a time after Fairy Godmother finishes her tale, turning over this new information in my mind. One question nags at me that I cannot let go unspoken, even if only in my own head.

If the curse was going to kill him and anything he touched, how was I able to make contact without harm? When I grabbed his leg and he fell as I escaped or when we kissed…

This didn’t make sense.

I Was Wrong

Remme

After weeks of trials, today I finally bestow it upon the champion.

Rose waits in my private chambers, believing this merely an audience to receive her rewards. She has no inkling of the trap about to spring. I feel certain now - her build, her skills, even the flash of recognition in her eyes when viewing the crown before. She must be the thief who triggered my curse.

I school my features to impassivity and enter my chambers. Rose rises from her seat by the hearth, wincing slightly from her injuries but grinning.

"Your Majesty, I'm honored you wished to see me."

I force an easy smile. "The honor is mine, Champion. You have more than earned every reward." I lift the crown from the desk, no longer in the box I gifted Scarlet when I thought she was the thief. The idea finally removing these golden gloves has me wanting to rush, but I know better. "But first, I have a gift to celebrate your historic victory."

Her eyes widen at the sight of the jeweled crown. I watch closely as I lift the ancient artifact reverently. Is that fear in her gaze? Or perhaps greed?

Before she can react, I step forward swiftly and place the crown atop her golden curls. As I draw back my hand, I let my fingers deliberately brush her neck.

She gasps and stiffens, face freezing in a rictus of horror. Cracks spiderweb rapidly across her skin as gold overtakes her flesh. I leap backwards in shock as she lets out an agonized scream, hands clawing at her gilded face.

Moments later only a golden statue remains, captured eternally in her final throes of terror and pain. I sink to my knees, gut wrenching with anguish. No! This cannot be real!

I was so certain she was the thief. Her skills, her tattoo...it made perfect sense. But instead I just brutally murdered the true champion. What have I done?

None of this adds up. If she is not the thief, then who? None of the other competitors showed her cunning or subtlety. Could it be...Scarlet?

She hid her skills so cleverly in the trials. Only revealing her capabilities when absolutely necessary. The thief must have done the same to escape the castle undetected.

And her presence always stirred something in me, even then. An unconscious recognition? Is it possible I overlooked the one closest to me this whole time?

If so, the curse has claimed an innocent life through my blindness. I cradle my head in shaking hands. When will this madness end? I thought solving the puzzle would bring peace. Instead, it only multiplies pain and questions.

But one truth shines clear as day - I have failed catastrophically in my judgments. No more half-measures or groping in shadows. If Scarlet is the thief, I must handle thiswith wisdom and compassion. Too many lives hang in the balance.

Steeling myself, I drape cloth reverently over Rose's golden body. She deserved far better than falling prey to forces beyond her control. I vow to free her from this as soon as possible. For her, and all who suffer for my curse.

The path forward waits, but I cannot walk it alone. If I am to salvage meaning from this tragedy, I will need Scarlet's light to illuminate the way. But the next steps must be taken with utmost care. Too much depends on what comes to light in the darkness ahead.

A Grand Wedding

Scarlet

My hands tremble uncontrollably as I smooth out imaginary wrinkles in the voluminous white skirts. Today I walk the aisle to be bound forever to a cruel man I despise. Even the soaring cathedral arches and elaborate floral displays do little to settle my roiling nerves.

This dress feels like a ridiculous costume, the layers of silk and lace suffocating me. I wish I could tear the whole farce away. Nearby, my awful stepsisters preen and gossip loudly in their gaudy bridesmaid dresses, ignoring me completely. I have never felt more alone, an island adrift in a churning sea of expectations.

Too soon the musicians strike up a lively processional. With shared smirks, my odious stepsisters sashay haughtily down the aisle, chins lifted as if on parade. Now only I remain, rooted in place by cold dread.

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