Page 3 of Once Upon a Forbidden Desire

That was a curse that struck just now, wasn’t it?

“Yes,” I said tiredly, lacing up my boots.

How does it work?He had the kind of voice that sounded like it was used to being obeyed without question, which was somewhat amusing coming from a bird not even a foot high.

“That’s a very personal question, and we haven’t even been introduced,” I pointed out. “Besides, I have to go.”

The tui puffed himself up. You may call me Golden. An odd name for a dark-colored bird, but it’s a rare fae creature who gives their true name to a stranger. I owe you a debt for saving me. Perhaps I can free you from this curse, if you tell me what it is, Daughter of Bloodthorn Manor. Is that something you would want?

Freedom. My heart gave a single hard beat. “Yes,” I whispered. In concise, detached sentences, I told him about the dawn-curse.

When I was done, he sat motionless. I owe you more than I realized, for saving me at the cost of your own pain. I will try to free you. I felt the echo of something in my chest, but then the sensation faded, and he shook his head. This curse cannot be broken by force alone.

I gave myself a shake, forced a laugh. “Never mind, then. It’s fine.”

In what manner is this curse fine?

I didn’t know what to say. No one had ever questioned my statements of fine-ness before. “I mean, thank you for trying, but you don’t owe me anything.”

I disagree.

“Grant me a feather or a song whenever it suits you, then, if you feel you must.” I hurried back to the manor before he could respond.

My stepmother wasalready up and preparing for the long day ahead when I returned. At my disheveled appearance, her thin eyebrows nearly merged with her hairline.

“Whatever happened?”

“A fight with a tree.”

“Oh, dear heart, I thought you’d outgrown the tree climbing! Go and wash up, hurry now. There’s so much we need to get through, and I know you want to help your sisters make the best possible impression!”

My stepmother was determined that every nook and cranny be made suitable for a royal visit. I considered pointing out that even if Acantha snagged King Tawhiri on the very first night, what were the chances he’d be inspecting the broom closets of Bloodthorn Manor the same day? Besides, if he was going to marry her, surely he wouldn’t care about our broom closets? But Lady Bloodthorn kept rubbing at her left horn, which she only did when she was agitated, so I didn’t argue.

While the house brownies cleaned, I spent the better part of the morning on tasks Lady Bloodthorn didn’t trust them with: swapping the cushion covers for our fanciest embroidered ones, polishing the brass noses of the gargoyles that decorated the entrance stairs, rearranging the bushy pohuehue vine that had sprung up only last year to twine nicely with the older ivy and fall around the balconies just so. Lady Bloodthorn refreshed the house spells, the clip-clop of her hooves on the marble stairs a constant background drum as she walked between floors, checking and re-checking all was being done to her satisfaction. Meanwhile, my stepsisters were whisked to bathing chambers to begin their own scrubbing and polishing.

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Rose admitted later as I was called to help her dress. “I hate dancing, and it’s not as if his majesty is going to choose me, anyway.” She touched her dark hair, arranged so that it covered her curling horns.

I dredged up some sympathy, even though my every muscle ached from the day’s cleaning marathon and I felt like saying at least she was allowed to go. Unlike some other members of this family.

“Why shouldn’t the king want to marry you?” I said. “You’re a daughter of the twelve houses just as much as anyone else, and who’s to say you might not suit? Maybe King Tawhiri hates balls too. Do you know what he’s like at all?”

Rose shuddered. “We’ve spoken a handful of times, and he was perfectly well-mannered. A bit cold. But it doesn’t matter what he’s like; I’m not earning the ire of every noble scion of the Golden Wood. How could anyone want that? No, Acantha is welcome to him. I’ll just be glad when we’re done with all these balls.”

I thought of all the balls at Bloodthorn Manor I’d watched from a hidden, yearning distance and swallowed down bitterness. Instead, I thought of the tales of King Tawhiri I’d heard. A boy-king who’d inherited the throne and managed to keep it until he reached manhood despite the many challengers. Not pure sidhe himself, though apparently enough of a hypocrite to value that in a bride. A powerful illusionist who’d once single-handedly defeated a lion-drake. Acantha had once said the curve of his profile put the sharp turn of the river’s cliffs to shame. I tried to imagine what that must actually look like in person, and my brain helpfully supplied the image of a rock with nice teeth draped in expensive fabric.

But the king’s supposedly poetic jawline wasn’t what captured my imagination. As my mind’s eye spun out the full scene, what I saw most vividly was the court’s attention falling enviously upon his bride, a woman who held her head high—who everyone acknowledged as worthy. A sharp, secret longing went through me.

“Cinders?”

I gave myself a shake. Of course I didn’t want that. Obviously. Not that it was a possibility. Even if I was technically a daughter of the twelve houses too, just as much as Rose. Lord Bloodthorn thought the king wouldn’t choose even a noble fae bride who showed evidence of the less-aristocratic kinds of fae ancestry. A base-born human would no doubt disgust him.

It was hard not to feel my own lacking at the end of the day, when my stepsisters were dressed in their finery, impossibly beautiful and graceful as a pair of deer. In comparison, I felt every speck of dust on me, the plainness of my clothing, the blunt ordinariness of my features. I stood at the top of the entrance hall, looking down at my family together, feeling the vast distance between us. They didn’t look up.

And then they were gone, leaving me alone in the empty house. I gave a deep sigh, went to eat supper with the house brownies, washed up, and dragged my aching body up to my bedroom in the attic.

And froze.

On my bed lay an elegantly wrapped package tied with silver string and a long, dark feather.

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