Page 26 of The Cursed Kingdom

He makes a sharp right, and I scramble to catch up. He has long legs and a fast pace, and I just barely avoid running into a faerie woman as I round the street corner.

She’s about as tall as Lill, and her long, wavy hair hangs to the small of her waist. Her thin lips part and her eyes grow wide as she sidesteps me, her beauty threatening to stop me in my tracks. She looks like she belongs on a movie set, not walking the streets of some small town.

“Not really,” Samuel says, answering my question. “Humans aren’t exactly rare, but it’s not an everyday occurrence you see one walking down the street.” He makes another right. “We’re almost there.”

My feet slam against the cobblestone, causing Samuel to glance over his shoulder. His lips twitch, and he slows his pace as he notices my struggle to keep up.

We pass another woman, and I can’t help but notice her dark-brown hair. It stands out amongst the sea of white. Maybe she’s part human.

“Do all faeries have white hair?” I ask.

“No,” Samuel says. “It’s the prevalent color, but we have a wide range. You’ll often encounter faeries with dark hair, and occasionally one with red. Our eyes are always violet, though.”

I nod, eyeing the gloves of a man we’re passing. They’re the same color as his pale skin, blending in seamlessly with his arms, but there’s a definite shine as they reflect the sun’s light. It’s amazing how subtle the gloves are. I’m not sure I would’ve ever noticed them if they hadn't been pointed out to me.

“Why the gloves?” I ask. “Seems like it would be easy enough not to touch somebody.”

I rarely find myself having physical contact with people I don’t explicitly mean to be having physical contact with. Keeping my hands to myself is easy. Maybe not if I were a faerie, though. If I could discover my fated mate just by touching them, I’d be walking down the streets with my arms extended. I’d be trying to touch everybody and everything. The idea of having a mate is too romantic not to.

Samuel shrugs. “They’re mostly ceremonial, I guess. They’ve admittedly gone in and out of fashion over the years, but we’re currently in an upswing.”

I hum, not immediately responding.

Samuel seems nice, and it makes me sad that he’s not often permitted to touch women. Magic seems cool, and maybe I’m biased because I grew up in a realm without it, but I don’t think it’s a deal-breaker.

If I were a faerie, I’d let Samuel touch me.

“Why don’t you know any of this?” Samuel asks. “The faerie who brought you here should’ve informed you of the inner workings of our realm.”

I press my lips together. I can’t exactly tell him my mode of transport was a sickly twenty-seven-year-old faerie woman who has been hiding out in the human realm for the past twenty years.

I clear my throat. “I paid a heavy sum to be brought here, and his kindness didn’t extend much past that. He dropped me off and went about his life. I’ve only been here for a few days, so I still have much to learn.”

Samuel sucks his cheeks into his mouth but doesn’t push further. I hope I’ve passed inspection, and I make a mental note to cut back on the questions.

We walk away from the town’s center, the clustered buildings spreading out and the streets widening until I no longer feel like I’m suffocating. I glance up at the sky, noting how low the sun is, as Samuel turns and pulls open a storefront door on our left.

Unlike last time, he gestures for me to enter first.

I eye the racks of clothing lining the building as I step inside.

“Evening!” a deep voice shouts from behind a counter beside the door.

I give the man a closed-lipped smile. His hair is slightly darker than that of most of the other faeries I’ve come across, the color a medium blond. His eyes are a vibrant violet, though, so I know he’s a faerie.

Samuel leads me toward a large display of gloves at the back of the store. There are easily a hundred pairs folded neatly on narrow shelves, all made from what looks to be white leather. Children’s sizes are on the left, and they grow larger as they move to the right.

I touch a pair, wanting to feel the fabric. I’ve never seen a material like this before, and I cringe as I realize they feel exactly like skin. I really hope that’s not what they’re made from, though. The old me would’ve assumed that Lill would’ve mentioned the fact that the faeries wear skin gloves, but I’m coming to learn there’s a lot she never told me about this place.

“What size are your hands?” Samuel asks.

Clearing my throat, I glance at my hands. I can’t say I’ve ever taken the time to measure them, but they seem about average. I’ve never been told otherwise.

“Average,” I decide.

A loud laugh bursts from Samuel’s chest, but he quickly tapers it as he realizes I’m being serious. He places a fist over his lips and clears his throat, trying and failing to hide his slightly mocking smile. I can only imagine what he’s thinking about me.

“All right,” he says, collecting himself. “Place your hand on this.”

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