Page 10 of The Cursed Kingdom

Lill doesn’t have anything going on in her life, and Aaron’s innocent question will make things uncomfortable.

Lill squeezes my knee under the table, silently thanking me for changing the subject, before forcing herself to take another bite of food. I’m not sure if Aaron picked up on the hint, but he doesn’t ask Lill any more questions about her recent activity.

Aaron looks at his watch. “I need to head out soon.”

I’m painfully aware this might be the last time I ever see him.

“I appreciate you stopping by,” I force myself to say. “It’s always so nice seeing you, even if it’s only for an hour.”

We rise, and I ignore Lill’s frown as I carry all our dishes to the sink. I’m cleaning up, no questions asked.

I banish Lill to the living room and see Aaron out before pulling a bottle of vodka out of the freezer. It’s about half full, which should be more than enough.

Lill rarely drinks, especially not lately. She gets unimaginable hangovers, and it takes her days to recover. She’s also a people pleaser. If I tell her I want to share a few drinks to celebrate my birthday, she’ll force them down.

Guilt makes my palms sweaty and my hands shake, but I ignore it. A hangover isn’t enough to kill Lill, at least not yet, and she can drink some of her special delysum tea if it makes her too sick. She can drink as much as she wants because I’m getting her more.

I don’t care if my plan is manipulative and cruel. It’s going to keep Lill alive.

I grab two shot glasses, filling one with vodka and another with water. Then I pull orange juice from the fridge and fill two cups. I pour a healthy serving of vodka into Lill’s cup.

Day drinking is out of character for me, but if I intend to get her drunk and convince her to open a portal to the faerie realm, I’d like it done during the daytime.

I have no idea what to expect in the faerie realm, but just about every survival guide I’ve ever read says that nighttime is the most dangerous. That’s when many big animals come out to hunt, and the weather can drop to unsafe levels.

I need to enter the faerie realm when there are still a few hours of light left. That’ll give me time to collect my bearings and find a safe place to sleep. That’s assuming time works the same there as it does here, though.

I’m making a lot of guesses, but it’s the best I can do. Lill isn’t exactly the most forthcoming with information.

“I’ve got beverages!” I grab our drinks and carry them into the living room.

Lill’s eyes go comically wide, and her expression has a noticeable twinge of fear as she glances between me and the shot glasses. It takes everything in me to pretend not to notice. If I could think of any other way to do this, I would.

Lill’s stubborn, but she’s always been susceptible to peer pressure when she drinks.

She’s spoken at length about how she misses the beautiful scenery in the faerie realm, and I plan to prey on that. When she’s nice and drunk, I will convince her to open a portal and take a peek. It’ll just be for a second—just a quick peek.

I placed a backpack beside the couch last night, and when Lill’s distracted, I’m going to grab it and sprint through theportal. I packed everything I think I might need, from shoes and food to a flashlight, water bottle, and a knife.

The faeries shouldn’t want to hurt me, but it’s always good to be prepared. Lill says they like humans, but she’s been gone for twenty years. A lot can happen in that time.

“I’m not so sure about that…” Lill says, still eyeing the drinks.

I set the glasses on the table, careful to remember which one has alcohol and which one doesn’t, before doing the same with our shots. Clearing my throat, I lift the one without alcohol and throw it back. Then I pretend to wince.

“Come on,” I urge her. “It’s my birthday.”

Lill looks scared, her lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, and I fight the urge to cry as I nudge the second shot glass toward her.

“Birthdays only come around once a year, you know?” I say. “And I don’t know how many I have left with you.”

It’s a low blow, but it does the trick. Lill’s face falls, and she reaches for the shot glass a second later. I rock back on my heels and grab my orange juice, sipping as she throws back the shot. She immediately gags, and I anxiously pick at the skin of my fingers as she grabs her glass of juice and chugs.

She grimaces when she realizes it isn’t a chaser.

“Fuck, Abby,” she curses, glaring at the orange juice. “You’re trying to get me drunk.”

I put a healthy amount of vodka in her glass, and I let out a forced laugh before grabbing our shot glasses and heading into the kitchen to pour more. Two will be enough to get her tipsy, and the mixed drink should push her right over the edge into drunk—especially since all she has in her system are a few nibbles of pancake.

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