She brings a hand to her lips. “He’s…cursed?”
“A wicked fae cursed the king so that all would forget his name.”
Imogen lowers her hand. “How cruel.”
“It gets worse.” I pluck another strand of lie from my mind and weave it with the ammunition of truth. It feels treacherous, but I can’t think of that right now. This is what I’ve been working toward for weeks. “Mr. Rochester recently learned that his curse is coming to claim his life. As far as he can tell, he has barely more than a week left to live, if even that.”
A sharp cry escapes her lips, and she clutches her heart. “Mr. Rochester is going to die? What about me? What about…what about this courtship I’ve been swept up in? Was he never going to tell me?”
I place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It was so recent that he discovered this was going to happen, and by then, his feelings for you had been set. He doesn’t know how to tell you himself.”
Tears glaze her eyes, and she pulls her shoulders from under my grasp. However, it isn’t sorrow she responds with but rage. “What a waste! Have you any idea how much favor I’ve spent on him? How much attention I gave him when I could have given it elsewhere? I wouldn’t have looked at him twice if I didn’t think he’d live long enough to marry me.”
A surge of alarm runs through me. I thought she’d be more moved by this news, heartbroken. Instead, I’m losing her. Obviously, her love for Elliot isn’t as deep as she first let on. I should have known better. I should have known it isn’thimshe’s in love with, but the money and prestige he offers as a husband. At least that will make her final demise even sweeter when Elliot does away with her. Now it’s time to throw my final hook and reel her in.
“I know you must be devastated,” I say, forcing far more pity into my voice than I feel. “If only it wasn’t so hard to break his curse. Then perhaps the two of you could be together like you wish.”
Her expression goes blank as she calculates my words. In the span of a second, her anger subsides. “You mean his curse can be broken?”
“It can, but it’s so,sohard.”
She snaps her fingers. “Well, come out with it. What must be done?”
I infuse my words with a romantic wistfulness as I say, “A human must care so deeply for him that they are willing to sacrifice that which they treasure most.”
Her eyes bulge. “That’s it? Someone must sacrifice something they treasure?”
“Theirgreatesttreasure.”
She turns around, arms hugged to her chest, and paces a few steps before stopping with her back facing me. After a few silent moments, she says, “It makes sense that his future wife should make this sacrifice.”
I feign surprise, taking a few steps closer. “You can’t possibly…are you sayingyouwould break his curse?”
She turns to face me, expression resolute. “Yes, I shall do it. As soon as Mr. Rochester and I are married, I’ll make this sacrifice.”
The blood leaves my face. As soon as they’re…married? But they aren’t getting married. Ever. That was never part of the plan. “Imogen, I don’t think you understand. Did you not hear me? He only has perhaps a week before the curse kills him.”
“I’ve always wanted a quick wedding,” she says with a shrug.
There won’t be a wedding, you fool!I want to shout. Instead, I keep my voice level and say, “Wouldn’t it make more sense to break the curse first? Then you could spend all the time you want planning the wedding of your dreams.”
She rolls her eyes, jaw shifting side to side. “Look, Gemma. Let’s not act like we don’t know the truth.”
Panic seizes me. “What truth?”
“We both know I’m not getting any younger. Do you know how many seasons I’ve been out? It’s a miracle I’ve found anyone at all, much less a fae royal—a faeking. More than that, I need the wealth. My family needs the wealth. We’re running through my former stepfather’s fortune, and it will be gone by the end of another year. If you didn’t already know this, then you do now. I don’t have the luxury of time, and clearly neither does Mr. Rochester. We will marry at once and I will break his curse.” She lowers her voice, a flicker of sorrow clouding her face. “Besides, considering what I must sacrifice, it will suit me to marry before he can back out.”
Her words combined with the desperation in her tone has the hair rising on the back of my neck. “What exactly are you preparing to sacrifice?”
Her lower lip quivers, and a tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away with a furious swipe. “My greatest treasure,” she says. “Beauty.”
I always knew she’d never value anything too deep, and beauty is certainly not something I’d consider of grave importance. But hearing her say it,seeingwhat it means to her, makes my blood go cold.
“How does the sacrifice work?” she asks, voice small. “Will I never be beautiful, or will what little beauty I do have be stripped away? Will it happen right away or take time?”
Her question drains all remnants of vindictive pride I’ve felt about scheming against her. Not even moments ago, I would have sworn she deserved what was coming. But hearing the fear in her voice, thinking about her actually making the sacrifice…
Several times, I’ve wondered how the sacrifice works. I’ve entertained what it would be like if I were the one to break the curse. Not because I considered doing so, but more out of morbid curiosity. Knowing I’d be giving up my freedom and independence, I’ve imagined I’d find myself locked in a cage, or perhaps trapped in my father’s care for life. Or perhaps I’d be married to a controlling man. But would the change be instant? Would I find myself in one place one second, then chained to a stranger in the next? Or would this fate simply haunt me until it caught me in its grip?
