Page 66 of The Cursed Crown

No wonder people disparaged him. They were envious. They wanted to be him, have him, be noticed by him. One only needed to look at him to fall under a spell.

Yes, he’d do. He’d rule all of Denarhelm, and all would be only too pleased to bow at his feet. They’d crawl to him and demand to serve.

Rissa couldn'tdeny that the thought terrified her. This creature could bring an end to the free will of the folk, with no more than a glance.

Shedared to caress the glass encasing him.

Then she stepped back, startled. It felt…alive.

She'd hoped that he would be, of course, but this was beyond slumber, a curse. He felt like he was living, breathing, thinking. Needing. She couldfeel his pulse beating through the ice. That shouldn’t be possible, but she'd left the realm of possibility the moment she entered his prison.

He was a myth come alive. A beautiful prince under a curse.

Shesupposed that made her the hero of the story. The brave princess who'd rescue him, so that he may rule and she could return to the shadows, where she belonged.

Her story ended where his would begin.

She would return to the solitary woods she'd claimed as her own, and let the kings of the world play games of war.

Just as she wanted. Everything was right under her grasp.

So why was she hesitating?

Give in. Give in to me.

Yes. Why wouldn't she? He was so very perfect.

Her trembling left hand found its grip on the knife at her side.

Yes. Just a little blood. It won't even hurt.

She closed her eyes.

Everything about him felt familiar. Part of her. As though he'd been with her forever. As though he was right under her skin.

She felt like the unmoving statue didn't like her way of thinking, and by all gods, she needed to please him. She needed to serve him. And free him.

She sliced the palm of her hand open and pressed it against the glass.

Words she'd never heard, read, thought of, or seen mentioned anywhere crossed her lips in slow, guttural chants. It was her mouth, her vocal cords, her voice. But it wasn't her at all.

Panic gripped her chest. Sheer panic. This didn't feel right at all. The voice urging her forward at every step for days had left her, her need to see this quest accomplished fleeing like it had been nothing but a dream.

She removed her hand from the ice coffin.

"No!" she heard herself scream.

Her hand was slapped right back against the surface.

"Stay right here if you know what's good for you."

The face she saw reflected on the ice was nothing like her; she'd never held such a malevolent sneer.

Her heart beat faster and faster.

This thing was controlling her. It had for days, if not longer.

Her own mouth curved into a smile. "Oh, don't pin that on me. It's not like people didn't try to warn you, princess. You took every step of your own accord. Because you just had to know better, didn't you?" Her laugh felt like a punch to the guts. "Serissa Braer just has to be right, like every other spoiled brat in the world."

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