Page 91 of Too Cursed To Kiss
“You mean because of Agatha?”
“Yes.” The one word held way more weight than I expected.
Victoria wiped her hands on a red linen cloth and folded it up. “I don’t know the answer. That might be enough, but I believe it isn’t what you and Wald decided to do?” She tucked the red linen into a hidden pocket.
“I’ve made my decision.”
“Well, that is not what Wald told his father this morning.”
“Then Wald has proven this isn’t his decision to make. It’s mine. I have the ring.”
“Yes, you do.” It was the first time I’d ever seen Victoria smile. It was one-sided, like a certain hunk of giant man I knew. The smile reached her eyes in an instant, the tiny creases enhancing her movie star delicate beauty. “Wald has made his choice. Now it is up to you to make yours.”
“I need to talk to Britannia one last time then.”
“Of course.” Victoria closed her eyes for a second and then walked over and hugged me. The scent of vanilla cream descended like a cloud on a rainy mountain. She took my hand and set a pearl-handled pocket knife into my palm, shaking her head to stop my question. Her petite fragility was anything but that. She was strong as hell. I flipped the blade out of the handle.
“What is this for?”
But Victoria didn’t respond, and the mirrored door creaked open. I hid the knife in my pocket as Britannia walked in, her lips twisting into a smirk. “Oh, she’s part ofthe family now she’s slept with my brother? Hugs all around then?” Britannia opened her arms wide and stepped toward Victoria.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed as she locked eyes with Britannia, crumbling Britannia’s swagger into a chastised sneer. “Fine, no hugging. What do you want?” Britannia asked, shoving her hands into the pockets of a catsuit which was far too much like mine. “I’m frankly thrilled this might be the last time I have to look at you in my clothing. You really need better shapewear to pull that jumpsuit off. You’re hanging out everywhere.” She sneered again.
Fat shaming me was lower than she usually sank. “Shut the fuck up. I’m about to do you a solid, and you can thank me after. Tell me what happened the night Donia died.” I fingered the knife in my pocket.
Britannia’s emerald eyes widened. “You’re going to change our past? But how? Oh! Agatha? But even if that did work, it won’t solve your… Well, it might. We can’t say what the new future will look like. You might still need to go to jail. Or you might not ever meet Wald at all…”
“That’s what you’re here for. If you’d gotten the ring uncracked and given it to Elizabeth, what would have happened?”
“Then none of us would be here. But Wald would have likely taken it, and I still would have told Gentry, so he’d have to die, and you’d still be screwed.”
I gritted my teeth. Fine, it didn’t matter now who had the ring in the past. I had it now, and I could fix Wald’s curse. “Exactly what happened to your sister? Walk me through it—and don’t leave details out. Even your fricking future depends on me not screwing this up.”
Britannia wrinkled her nose. “I gave Donia some ofWald’s herbs to keep her quiet. She had the ring on, and we fought. I knew the spell to get it off her, but I couldn’t use it without help. So I’d stolen Victoria’s moonstone necklace and cast the spell, but it didn’t work. Since I had Donia drugged, I tried to wrestle the ring off her, but then Wald walked in and went berserk. The ring broke, and the explosion threw Donia into the mortal wound that Wald meant for me.”
“Wald was going to kill you?”
“No, he was planning to immobilize me with the Klyngore. It pierced Donia’s heart though, and there was no coming back from that.”
“What the hell is a Clin-Gore?”
“It’s an ancient sword with a use-curse.”
Great, another fucking artifact. “What’s a use-curse, and what happened to Donia?”
“A use-curse is a price that’s paid to use an artifact. In this case, killing someone with it curses you. Donia’s probably in the album. I didn’t think to check, actually.” She got a faraway look. “It’s weird when the form is lost, and the knife breaks that connection.”
Victoria’s glare at Britannia had wide-eyed horror behind it. The story was likely new to her. Britannia’s lack of feeling for her twin sister was concerning. This was not my current problem.
“How do I fix that mess so it doesn’t happen?”
“First, I’ll need you to lock the door so Wald can’t kill Caledonia.”
“And how do I do that?”
“With this.” Britannia rummaged in her pocket and held out a braided brown leather cord with a couple of yellow white beads tied on it.
The suede was fur-like. I rubbed the pearl-smooth,cracked yellow beads, and the time-worn orbs warmed to my touch.
