Page 39 of The Cursed Kingdom

A twig snaps ahead of us, the dawdler making way too much noise. It’s a woman—I can tell by the footfalls—and probably a commoner. If she’s not working for my father, I assume she’s aiming to get Kie and me alone, probably hoping to lay a hand on either of us and ignite our mate bond. She wouldn’t be the first to try, and I doubt she’ll be the last.

I can’t fathom why else she’d be out here. Faeries are rightfully terrified of the creatures that live inside the forest. If a shifter doesn’t find her, a troll will. The stout, nasty, green fuckers are always lingering around, and while they’re generally weak, they’re dangerous in groups. They also have a particular interest in torturing and raping faerie women.

I drag my fingers through my hair when the dawdler trips. The stumble is followed by a clatter and a low grunt. The pitch confirms it’s a female, and my lips twitch as Kie’s shoulders grow rigid.

“She’s persistent,” he mumbles. “I’ll give her that.”

Persistentisn’t the word I’d use to describe her.Fucking annoyingis more like it.

We haven’t been following her for too long, maybe fifteen minutes, and the magic surrounding us has already grown thin. It won’t be long until it’s gone entirely. I hope she takes that as her cue to return to Farbay. She should do it before it’s too late. It might already be.

I flick a branch out of my way, my black gloves capturing my attention.

“I wish to take my gloves off,” I say to Kie.

He doesn’t respond.

Most faeries choose to wear flesh-toned gloves, but the dark color symbolizes Kie’s and my disinterest in finding our truemate. We’ll marry for political gain, and we can’t take the risk of igniting our bond.

I slid my gloves back on the second I caught wind of the dawdler. Kie did the same, but he doesn’t seem nearly as annoyed as I am. He never is.

The dawdler makes another noise.

“She isn’t eventryingto be discreet,” I point out.

Kie continues to ignore me. She’s probably deluded herself into believing she’s our mate. Women often get wishful thoughts about us, convincing themselves we’re destined to be together. It’s bothersome.

Kie enjoys it, though. He believes delusional women are better fucks, but I strongly disagree. Those women are challenging to get rid of once bedded, and they’re almost always trying to sneak in a touch.

The whores in the brothels of Bellmere know better than to try to skirt around the rules.

I wonder if any of Kie’s women have ever succeeded in getting a bare hand on him during a weak moment, maybe before he’s had the opportunity to put a protective sleeve over his cock, but none have been our mate. I’d know. He wouldn’t be able to keep that secret from me.

“It’s uncomfortable,” Kie says, kicking at a rock. “The lack of magic. It feels like a piece of myself is missing.”

I shrug, unable to relate. I’ve never had any use for magic, and I don’t miss it when it’s gone.

Another five minutes pass before I lose my last bit of patience with the dawdler. She’s practically a beacon for the nearby shifters, and she’s going to get us all fucking killed.

I clear my throat, alerting Kie, before dropping my bag onto the ground.

I’m glad I chose to wear all black today. Her blood won’t stain the fabric.

“Mason…” Kie warns.

Ignoring him, I march forward, heading toward the dawdler. She’s not far ahead, and it sounds as if she’s resting.

Kie lets out a muffled curse, and I hear his bag drop onto the ground a second before he grabs my shoulder and pulls me back. I let him stop me, a habit I’ve been forced to take up since moving to the capital. Kie is the crowned prince, and despite our titles indicating us to be equals, the faeries don’t see it that way. Life in court is easier when the nobles think I’m subservient to Kie.

“I’ll see to it,” he says.

I doubt that.

Kie digs his fingers into my shoulder, threatening to dislocate the joint. If he does, I’ll return the favor. We aren’t in Bellmere, and there are no nobles around watching our every interaction. I’ll break his fucking arm, our trip to the portal of the gods be damned.

Let the delysum continue growing. Let the magic continue dying. I don’t give a fuck. It doesn’t affect me in any way, shape, or form.

“You know what they’ll do if they find evidence that you killed another faerie,” Kie points out. “We can’t risk it, Mace.”

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