Page 18 of The Cursed Kingdom

A small part of me thought I’d die out in the wild.

My heart pounds with the realization that I’m about to enter a city full of faeries, but I shove my fear and trepidation deep down inside and continue forward. I need to keep moving.

The gravel crunches under my feet, and I focus on the sound as I realize there are houses tucked deep into the trees lining the road. I don’t notice them initially, mainly because I wasn’t looking, but I see the occasional flash of a porch or pointed roof.

From what I can see, the houses are beautiful.

Everything is earth-toned—the limestone exteriors painted in light, soft-brown colors. I want a better look, but I hesitate to stray from the gravel road. I’m also hesitant to approach the private home of a faerie I don’t know.

They might not take kindly to my appearance on their property.

There is one house not hidden entirely behind trees, and I admire it as I walk past. It’s a ranch-style home, painted an almost yellow-brown, with a shingled roof, large windows, and a tall, arched front door.

It’s beautiful.

I look for a driveway or vehicle, but I find nothing. There’s a small, worn path leading from the front door to the gravel road, but that’s the only sign of wear. Do faeries walk everywhere? Maybe they prefer traveling through portals.

I sure would if I were them.

The sun dips below the treeline, and I pause to put my sweatshirt back on. The houses are growing closer together, and quickly. I don’t know how faeries dress, but I don’t want to meet them in my dirty T-shirt. I’ll feel more comfortable with my upper body covered.

Plus, the extra fabric helps block out the smell of my sweaty armpits.

I sidestep, narrowly avoiding stepping in a giant pile of shit on the side of the road. It looks like it came from a large animal,definitely a horse, and I grimace as I move around it. I suppose that confirms my question about how the faeries travel.

My heart pounds, and my pulse thunders through my ears as I make my way into the city. The road shifts from gravel to cobblestone, and I quickly find myself walking through a narrow street lined with stone and brick houses on either side of me. They’re beautiful buildings, most half-timbered, with visible wooden beams and red-tiled roofs.

Tall, vined plants snake up several of the buildings, giving a sense of nature despite the labyrinth of alleys the town has become. I feel like I’ve entered a historical, quaint European city. It’s beautiful but creepy. I don’t belong.

I eye a row of large, potted plants lining the front of a wrought-iron balcony above me, the vibrant flowers in full bloom. Along the ground level are cafés and small shops, but no faeries.

Where is everybody?

I peer in every window I pass, but I spot not one soul. It feels like I’m walking through a ghost town, and I’m beginning to think I’ve made a colossal mistake. What if the faeries were alerted that I was coming and hid away? What if they think this is some sort of game and they’re actively hunting me down right now?

I saw that once in a movie.

I hug my arms to my chest, hating how loud my footfalls are.

A door opens ahead, and I stop dead in my tracks as a man steps out of a small storefront. He doesn’t seem to notice me, and I stare with a slack jaw as he turns and locks the door behind him.

He fits the bill of what I imagined faeries other than Lill and her mom would look like.

The man is at least six feet tall, with an athletic frame and stark-white hair. It hangs down his back, and the front piecesare pulled out of his face and braided behind his head. The white color stands out against his all-black, loose, linen outfit, and I grimace and glance down at myself. If they’re all leaning into this natural, loose clothing look, I won’t fit in.

My black leggings are too tight, and my navy-blue hoodie is too bright.

I’m sweating, and I carefully remove my sweatshirt and tuck it into my bag. I’m wearing a black T-shirt underneath, which better blends in.

The man turns away from me and begins walking down the sidewalk. I linger, weighing the pros and cons of approaching him, before hurrying forward. He’s the only faerie I’ve seen, and I don’t know that I’ll get another chance to ask for directions.

My ass is clenched so tightly, it’s going to be sore tomorrow morning.

“Excuse me!” I half-shout.

My voice cracks, naturally, and my shoes slap against the ground as I rush toward the faerie. He stops the moment he hears my voice, and he spins around quicker than my eyes can process. I try my best not to react to it.

I don’t want him to know he’s the first faerie—besides Lill and her mom— that I’ve ever met.

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