Page 5 of The Cursed Kingdom

I’d miss her terribly, but at least she’d be alive. Maybe I could even go with her. Lill’s told me that while it’s rare for humans to be in the faerie realm, it’s not unheard of. There are a few, most brought over by a romantic partner. I’d be delighted to marry a sexy, magical faerie man. My parents would love him, and we could come back and visit during the major holidays.

“Did you order the pizza?” Lill asks.

I shake my head and pull out my phone, debating whether I should bring up my idea of traveling to the faerie realm and getting her more tea myself. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve offered, but Lill gets angry when I try to discuss it.

She seems to think her world is too dangerous for me, but I doubt it. I’m not naive enough to go waltzing into a city full of the trolls she’s whispered about who treat human meat as a delicacy—a fact I still think she’s joking about. I’ll stick to the faerie lands, which she has said herself are relatively safe.

She said faeries think humans are cute—like magicless, small pets. I’ll be very fucking cute, and I’ll bring her back a hundred canisters of delysum tea. I doubt faeries accept human money, but I’ll sell myself if it comes to it. I’ll do anything to keep Lill alive.

It’s a good idea, but Lill’s already having a bad day. I’ll postpone this argument until she has enough energy to engage.

“What toppings do you want?” I ask.

Lill shrugs and takes another sip of tea. I can’t help but stare. The drinks she used to make were so dark, you couldn’t see the bottom of the cup. What she’s drinking now looks like tinted water.

“I’ll get their veggie,” I say, wincing as my voice cracks.

The sound gives away the emotions swirling through me, and I turn away from Lill before she says anything about it. She gets annoyed when she sees what she perceives to be pity in my eyes. It’s never pity, though. It’s fear. Raw, unadulterated fear that often has me jolting awake at night in a cold sweat.

I’m terrified of what will happen when she runs out of delysum tea. Of how I’m supposed to enjoy life without my best friend in it.

My bottom lip wobbles, and I bite the inside of my cheek until the physical pain overshadows the mental. It never takes me long to compose myself, and I subtly clear my throat before calling the local pizza shop and placing our order.

It’s a good distraction, and I tidy up the kitchen while waiting for the delivery to arrive. Lill cleans so often that there isn’t much for me to do, but I wash the few dishes in the sink before putting away the heavy pots and pans she struggles to lift.

“How was your day?” Lill asks, stepping into the room. “Mark still giving you trouble?”

Her cup is empty, and she glares around the kitchen before setting the dirty dish beside the sink. I snort, already knowing what she’s thinking. She’s probably mad at me for cleaning, and I shoot her a broad smile as I grab her cup.

“Leave it,” she orders. “I’ll wash it tomorrow.”

I ignore her, washing the cup.

“My day was fine,” I say instead, answering her earlier question. “I spent most of it trying to convince Mark to update our bookkeeping software.”

He and I have been arguing about it for weeks. Mark hates spending money, but our current software was built in the Middle Ages and is impossible to use. I almost missed payroll last week due to some random error that has literally neveroccurred before, and it’s not the first time something like this has happened.

Mark seems to think it’s fine since I was able to find and fix the issue in time, but he fails to understand that I’m an accountant, not an IT wizard. He can’t rely on me to resolve every technological issue the company comes across, and I hate how I’m always blamed for the few that slip through the cracks.

I sometimes wonder how he ever managed to start a company.

“You should find a new job and quit,” Lill says. “That place sucks.”

I shrug. We both know I can’t do that. Our town is small, and unless I want an extremely long commute or to move to a busier area and pay twice as much in rent, there’s no leaving.

Besides, even though my manager sucks, the pay is good. It’s enough to comfortably afford our small, two-bedroom apartment, and I usually have a little left over for pizza and overpriced coffee.

The real reason, though, the one I can’t admit to Lill, is because I’m saving up for home care aides. Lill’s managing well enough for now, but I predict it’s only a matter of time before she needs more help than I can realistically provide.

That care will be expensive, and I need to save all I can.

Our doorbell rings, and Lill grabs plates while I get our pizza. We usually eat at our small, chipped wooden dining table—a tradition Lill insists on—but pizza deserves to be eaten in the living room with the TV on. It’s a hill I’m willing to die on, and after countless arguments and even the occasional bout of tears, Lill’s accepted defeat.

Well, mostly. She still sets up TV trays and makes me lay a napkin across my lap, but I’ll take what I can get.

I try my best not to look at Lill’s shaking hands as we eat, and when my eyes eventually grow wet with tears, I force myself tostare at the far wall until they dry. She’s going to die, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Chapter Two

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