Page 12 of The Cursed Kingdom

I already know the answer, but it’s an excellent way to open up the conversation about the faerie realm. If I come straight out and start asking about it, she’ll suspect something’s off and shut down. I need to ease her into it.

Asking about her eyes is foreplay.

“Yes,” Lill says. “And most have white hair.” She fiddles with a strand of her hair. “Not all, though. My childhood best friend had dark hair. It’s uncommon, but it happens.”

I hum. “Are they all as tall as you, too?”

My parents used to call Lill a string bean when we were kids, much to her annoyance, but she grew into her long limbs. Her awkward movements became graceful, and by the time we were teenagers, she had the fluidity of a supermodel. She’s still graceful, at least when she’s not drunk, but her thinness hides the elegance. Her protruding bones are all people see now when they look at her.

Lill laughs. “I’m average height for a faerie woman. Humans are just short.”

I can practically see her mind wandering as she turns to look back out the window. She’s thinking about the faerie realm. I know it, and I slide near my backpack still resting against the couch.

Lill steps away from the window, tripping over her feet and almost giving me another heart attack, before taking a seat on the couch. She lands on the cushions with a quiet huff, and I bite the inside of my cheek when she rests her head on my shoulder a second later.

She smells like shampoo and floral perfume, and I subtly breathe it in.

“Do you remember a lot about your home?” I ask. “You were so young when you left.”

I hardly remember anything from that time in my life, but Lill’s always had an impeccable memory. I think it’s a faerie trait.

She clears her throat. “I don’t remember as much as I’d like. My memory is spotty.”

I slide my hand up and down her arm in what I hope is a comforting gesture.

“I loved playing in the open fields,” Lill continues. “I’d stay out there all day if I could, and my poor mom would bring me inside kicking and screaming more often than not.”

I snort, not at all surprised to hear that. Lill’s always been stubborn, and I imagine she was a handful. My mom often jokes that the two of us were what made her go gray so young.

“Do you ever miss it?” I ask.

It’s a risky question, one Lill would usually flag as dangerous, but I can tell by her relaxed muscles that she hasn’t picked up on my prying. I blame the alcohol.

Lill sucks in a shaky breath. “I do.” She shakes her head, clearly ready to end the conversation. “Are you hungry for lunch?”

“No,” I say, ignoring her attempt to change the topic. “It makes me so sad to think you’ll never see it again…”

Lill shudders.

“I don’t know how you do it,” I continue. “I wouldn’t have been able to resist opening a portal and peeking in.” Lill doesn’t respond, and I give her a moment to consider my words before continuing. “Have you ever done that?”

Lill’s cheek brushes against my shoulder as she shakes her head. She’s not usually still for this long, especially when she’s been drinking, so I know she’s lost in thought. That’s good. I want her distracted.

If she were in her right state of mind, she wouldn’t so much asconsiderdiscussing opening a portal.

She hesitates before answering. “I’ve thought about it.”

I get another whiff of her floral perfume, and despite my best attempts to remain level-headed, my eyes begin to water. I can’t risk Lill seeing me wipe them away, so I open my eyes wide and stare at the ceiling, hoping to dry them out.

“You should do it,” I say. “There’s got to be at least one place where it’s safe to open a portal, even just to look around. You’ve always said how beautiful the faerie realm is.”

I have no idea how portals work, but I like to imagine she just has to visualize the place she wants to go and,voilà, a portal is open.

That’s how it happened in a book I read once, and it sounds about right.

Lill chews at her thumbnail. “I can’t.”

I hum, hoping the response comes off as nonchalant. There’s a thin line between being convincing and being pushy. I’ve never been good at toeing it. I should’ve practiced this conversation more, but I feared sounding too rehearsed.

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