Page 73 of Cursed Encounter
Revenge has always been in the back of my mind, but I never had proof that his death was foul play. Then people started saying I’d done it, and I just went with it. There was no better way to take over his empire than to have everyone believe I killed him so I could wear the crown. It’s been a heavy burden, especially when I didn’t hate the man.
“He had his reasons to keep me hidden,” I tell her. “I think he loved my mom, but his world was too dangerous to bring her into, and so it was too dangerous to bring me into as well. Until he had to.”
“What happened to your mom?”
“She died when I was thirteen. She had been sick for a long time. She went to several doctors and even had healers come in and try to work their magic on her, but nothing helped. Her body just shut down. It was like her time was over, and that was it, lights out.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, placing a light kiss on my neck.
“He took me in and looked out for me, but never…”
“Claimed you as his son?”
“Yeah,” I say with a heavy sigh. “But it took me a long time to realize there’s a difference between unwanted and unclaimed. He did it to protect me. And he taught me that this life isn’t one for feelings and attachments. They make you vulnerable, and they become your weakness.”
She goes stiff in my arms. I swallow thickly, wishing I could take those words back, but even if I did, the truth of them would remain. It’s dangerous. And if I admit how I feel for her—if I wish to have a life with her, should we break the curse—then I’d be putting her at risk every minute of every day. She deserves more than that.
I suppose it doesn’t matter since this is the end for both of us. We haven’t found a way out. The hourglass is running out of sand, and I don’t think we’re going to find a way to break the curse.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Astra
“When did you lose your mom?” Donovan asks. His voice is soft, almost sweet.
His fingers work through my hair, nearly soothing me back to sleep right here on his lap.
It’s a tough subject, but maybe talking about it will help me bring back the memories of her. I’m still holding out hope they’ll return. I know things with this curse are almost over, and if it ends in death, I would really love at least one real, vivid memory of her before I go.
“I was eight,” I tell him numbly. I feel a sense of loss, but it’s like my mind doesn’t understand why. It’s very frustrating and confusing. At least I understand why this is happening. It certainly would have been nice to know years ago instead of me developing some weird complex over it. But… what can I do about it now? Nothing, so I’ll keep pressing on.
“Did you like living with…”
“The aunts?” I fill in for him. “Yeah.” A smile comes to my lips. “They were good to me. I miss them now.” Shame washes over me when I realize I’ve been so caught up in being out in the real world and I haven’t tried to get in touch with them. “I haven’t spoken to them since I left.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. My thoughts have been… muddled since I’ve been in the city. And I guess I didn’t want to talk to them because I was ashamed of what I had to do. I know they’d be so disappointed in me for agreeing to kill someone.” And there it is in a nutshell.
He kisses the top of my head.
I’m glad it’s dark so he can’t see me blushing.
What to do with him? This man that I once thought a monster, who is now holding me and asking things about my life… and kissing me sweetly when he can sense the sadness taking over.
This man… how I want him to be mine. I want him to be the prince in the fairy tales, but not quite like any fairy tale I’ve ever read. I don’t want him to change. I don’t want the perfect, nice prince. I want the dark prince. The one who will slayeverydragon and demon, not just the ones after me.
Strong arms tighten around me as my lids flutter open. The light is streaming through the windows, and I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.
I roll over, only now realizing I’m back in bed. Donovan is here, his eyes thoughtful as he looks at me.
“Did you sleep at all?” I ask as I place my hand on his bare chest over his heart. I can’t tell if I’m trying to block out thesymbol of the curse as a way to hide from what’s to come or doing my best to come to grips with it.
“No,” he answers me. His voice is soft yet gravelly. The way he’s watching me… it’s as if he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of me, and for some messed-up reason, it makes my heart warm.
I smile through the dark thoughts surrounding us.
This could be it.
