Page 38 of Of Curses and Beauty

Daric closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed by the rage building inside him. The collateral damage of a single wish had extended far beyond what he could have imagined. He had been a selfish fool to wish for love. Now, a choice lay before him. Should he pursue the love of his life, saving her from a loveless marriage with nothing to offer in return but his undying affection? Or should he let her go, allowing her to believe him nothing more than a dream while her husband sees to her every need? He would do it. He would step away if he knew for certain that she’d be better off without him.

“She doesn’t love him?” He’d meant it as a statement, but his insecurities cast the simple phrase into doubt.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“I have lost my title, my kingdom, and everything I owned. I am not a man of property. I’m not even a man of this century. Tell me, please, would she be better off with this other man?” He held his hands out, displaying everything he had.

Her smile turned sad. “I cannot tell you that. It is impossible for even me to know.”

“Can you restore me to my throne?”

Eudora pursed her lips. “It is technically within my power to do so. However—” she cut him off before he could speak. “The cost would be astronomical. Not only for you and me. The current monarch would need to be deposed, in addition to the consequent removal of all those in line for the throne. Or I would need to wipe the memory of all who know of the current royal family. That’s not even considering the price the magic would demand. You would have your kingdom, and by all accounts your love, but at what cost?”

He couldn’t tell if it was his own self-pity reflected in her eyes or if she truly felt sorry for him. But he did know that he couldn’t take the decision away from Alaine. This love between them was as much hers as it was his, and he refused to make the choice for both of them. He needed to talk to her.

“How do I get to Alaine?”

Chapter 34

Alaine

Dayspassedinablur and, before she knew it, Alaine was stepping into the wedding dress her mother had selected. The pale blue brocade was perfect for a winter wedding—or so her mother told her as she repeatedly pinned and prodded the garment. It would need to be taken in as they had assumed, but also hemmed because Alaine refused to wear anything but her fur-lined boots in the snow, much to her mother’s chagrin.

“I’m not wearing heeled shoes in the snow. No one will see my feet anyway,” Alaine insisted.

Her mother only huffed and stuck her with a pin.

Alaine stared at the bare branches of the tree outside her bedroom window. Winter had arrived and snow would soon follow. She prayed every night for it to hold off for one more day. Thus far, her prayers had been answered, but each day the evening frost lingered a little longer in the morning sun. It was only a matter of time before the clouds overhead brought the dreadful white powder to her doorstep.

“What kind of person sets an event to align with the weather?” Alaine didn’t mean to speak the words aloud, but she’d been speaking her mind more frequently since she had nothing left to lose.

“As I recall, it was you who set the date of the nuptials,” her mother replied dryly.

“Only because that was the original term of the agreement.” She knew she sounded more like a petulant child than a woman about to be married, but the wait was driving her mad. She wanted it to snow already and simultaneously wanted it never to snow again. There was so much to do and nothing that could be done. She felt stretched thin. This odd liminal time left her bereft and irritable, which was no way to begin a new chapter of her life—even one she was already dreading.

Her mother had ceased her fussing and stepped back to admire the dress. Though Alaine felt the gaze upon her, she found no words for the woman who cared so little about her own daughter’s happiness.

They stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Minutes passed with Alaine willing her mother to say something—anything—to ease this infernal melancholy. When at last Alaine lifted her gaze to meet her mother’s, she knew by their silver-lined edges that she would not find pity or remorse within. Her mother’s tears were not those of a woman losing a daughter, but rather tears of joy and pride for the bride-to-be.

Alaine would relish the look on her mother’s face if it had been for any reason other than her future marriage to Baxter. Disgusted, she turned her back, presenting the myriad of buttons. In this way at least, her mother freed her from her confines, her deft fingers making quick work of the small fasteners.

The heavy brocade slipped from her shoulders like water pooling at her feet. Alaine all but jumped out of the fabric, half afraid of drowning in it. She shivered in her underdress and pulled on a robe as her mother gingerly picked up the dress, careful to avoid the pins.

Her mother was almost to the door when she stopped and twisted to look over her shoulder at Alaine. “If you find yourself in need of something to do, you can write to your uncle and cousins in North Embrook. They were quite worried for you and I’m sure they’d love to know of your recovery.” She turned on her heel without waiting for a reply.

Alaine closed the door behind her, savoring the time to herself. While she wanted to pick up a book and get lost in another world, guilt nagged at her and she eventually acquiesced to writing her family in the north. She did not wish them to worry further on her account.

She sat at her writing desk and folded down the front panel to reveal a flat writing surface and several drawers and compartments. The largest of the drawers opened easily with a slight pull on the small brass handle. Inside lay a wooden stationery box, several old quills, and an ink well.

She pulled the box free and gasped as sunlight revealed the familiar contours of the lid. Her fingers traced over the design even as her mind refused to accept what her eyes were seeing, for inlaid on the lid of the box was a rose she thought existed only in her dreams. Through touch, she confirmed what she feared to be true, that this was indeed Daric’s gift from their last day together. How it had come to be in her writing desk, she did not know, but a bolt of panic shot through her at the realization. Because if this was real, then it was all real, and she wasn’t ready to accept the fact that Daric might be out there somewhere, looking for her, while she prepared to marry another.

With speed she didn’t know she possessed, Alaine flung off her robe and donned the closest overdress she could find. She slipped on her fur-lined boots and grabbed her winter cloak as she sprinted from the room.

The commotion she made as she descended the stairs surely alerted everyone in the house to her departure, but she paid no mind to the shouts that echoed after her as she greeted the cold winter day.

An overcast, gray sky mirrored her mood as the bitter wind nipped at her nose and ears. Dead grass crunched beneath her feet, the mottled landscape blurring as she focused on the towering trees in the distance. She stumbled along, willing her feet faster as they caught in her skirts, and refused to slow until her lungs screamed for air. Even then, she pushed on.

When she finally broke through the tree line, her sides ached and her lungs burned. Her chest and underarms were damp with sweat, a stark contrast to the chill that caused her breath to fog with every exhale. She’d lost feeling in her face and blew into her hands in an attempt to warm them.

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