Page 17 of Cursed Evermore
Conundrumwas too meager a word to call this situation. It was more like a catastrophe. And I felt like I was going along for a wild ride on the edge of a mountain with my hands tied behind my back.
Emabelle, in her good-natured way, had suggested an evening out at the Gilded Stag, our local tavern and comfort hangout. She’d thought we both needed some air and that I needed to get out of the manor to take my mind off what was going on.
Mother agreed, provided Borsari, my father’s senior guard, accompanied us.
We’d been here for close to an hour now. Emabelle and I had grabbed a table to ourselves while Borsari kept a close eye on us from the bar.
The Gilded Stag might not have been my first choice as I wasn’t in the mood to be around noisy people, but I had to admit it was a welcomed break.
And it was better than being home.
Grandmother and Mother were still giving me the unbearable silent treatment that made me feel so much worse.
The scathing look Mother gave me just before we left was still burning my skin and Grandmother’s silence still cut deep. She hadn’t even looked at me when I told her I was leaving.
I’d hurt them, but I was aware Grandmother was especially disappointed because I’d gone behind her back and read her grimoire. I knew she blamed herself for what I’d done. She’d always been such a huge magical influence in my life. Even before the curse.
Mixed beings like me, born in the mortal lands, are supposed to have their magic bound until they turn twenty-one. Then theyhave the choice of either living in the magical realm where they kept their powers, or staying in the mortal realm, where they'd need to strip their powers completely.
Mother had wanted to strip my magic from birth because she would never allow me to live in the magical realm on my own. Grandmother argued against it, year in year out, insisting it was wrong to take away a vital piece of me. She wanted me to have the option to make the choice. She knew me, knew I’d never give my powers up willingly—regardless of how long I stayed in the mortal realm. No doubt she’d changed her mind now.
She and Mother were probably planning to strip my powers before the wedding.
I feared that discussion and I wasn’t in the mood to fight about everything else, so I chose to come here with Emabelle and pretend my life wasn’t falling apart.
The tavern buzzed with low chatter and the clinking of mugs. The warmth of the hearth and cheerful ambiance battled the crisp night chill seeping through cracks in the misty gray walls, as if the room itself wanted to convince me I wasn’t unraveling. I could almost relax here.Almost.
Emabelle offered me a hopeful smile and nudged the plate closer, sending the scent of spiced pumpkin pie curling into the air. “Come on, eat up. You’ll feel a lot better.”
I’d had very little appetite over the last few days, possibly another side effect of portaling, or it could just be my intense worrying, but I humored her by cutting off a small piece and taking a bite.
Instantly, the sweet, decadent taste of pumpkin and spices melted on my tongue, tantalizing my taste buds in a way that could make a girl forget she had the weight of the world pressing on her shoulders. Gods be good, if only my problems could be fixed with a slice of pumpkin pie. I’d eat a hundred.
“Wow, this is absolutely delicious.” I smiled back at her, savoring the scrumptious flavor as it continued to intrigue my senses.
“It always is.” Emabelle giggled and poured me a mug of mulberry ale from the large stoneware jug she’d insisted on us getting to share. “Now, have some of this. It will hit the spot.”
Again, I did as requested, and she was right. The tangy, flavorful ale took the raw edge off the angst that was still gripping at my insides. A pleasant buzz bloomed over the sullen overcast of my mind, and the mulberries amplified the sweetness of the pie.
“Feel a little better?” Emabelle gave me that reassuring look she’d been casting my way since the argument.
“Yeah.” I nodded, appreciating her efforts to take care of me.
“I wish I could do more for you.”
“You’ve done enough.”
“With sweet pie and ale?” She chuckled, waving a hand over the remaining pie.
“It did hit the spot.”
Shehaddone enough, even with the small things like this outing tonight. It helped in some way. I couldn’t ask for more.
We’d always been as close as sisters could be. She came to live with us when she was five after her parents died at sea. My family welcomed her as their own. That's why she called my grandmother hers too.
Things would change now that we were both of marrying age.
I would go first. Then she would follow in the new year when my mother arranged her marriage.
