I push myself up on my elbows. “How would I do that?”
She shrugs. “There’s likely no one who could unravel it other than myself or my father. Killing your mother would also work. Beyond that, all curses have a loophole, if you can find it.”
“How?” Hope ignites in my chest.
“It would be something unlikely to happen but feels like fate if it does—the more fateful, the more powerful the curse. From what you’ve said, yours was likely tied to you remembering one another when together, but I don’t know how.”
“That’s not helpful.” I fall back onto the pillow. “So I either kill someone who can make me do whatever they want or escape from them and drag you across the border to where everyone wants us dead.”
“Both are difficult, yes, but not impossible. Theywillbe impossible if you can’t behave as if everything is normal. So get it together and eat.”
I do, though begrudgingly. My wedding’s in… what? Four days? If I can come up with a worthwhile escape plan, maybe that’ll be enough time to convince Owena to come with me. Break Ellie’s curse, and then… who the fuck knows? I can figure that out later.
But I can’t bring myself to imitate sex noises the next two times Owena has at it. By the time she finishes, it’s probably close to midnight. She crawls into bed next to me and falls asleep.
She wakes me sometime after the sun rises and demands I spit in her hand.
“What?”
“Just do it already. I need to smell like you.”
“Wearing my clothes and sleeping next to me wasn’t enough?”
“No, and since I doubt you want to spill your seed on me, your spit is the next best thing.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Fae have an excellent sense of smell.”
When I make no move to spit on her, she spits on her own hand and rubs it all over my neck.
“Stop it! That’s disgusting!” I push her off me, but it’s too late. My skin crawls at the sticky layer of moisture coating it.
“Your turn.”
I hock the biggest pile of spit possible into my hand and slather it on the bare skin of her neck and the shoulder that my too-big-for-her shirt doesn’t cover. She gags, her face blanching.
A twinge of guilt creeps through me. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I know you’re trying to help.”
She meets my gaze, then nods. There’s something… wistful… in her dark eyes, but she blinks it away.
“Now turn around so I can get dressed.”
* * *
In a move so bold I’m questioning her sanity, Owena accompanies me to breakfast with my mother.
“You need to pretend we’ve just had the best night of your life and you’re excited to marry me in three days,” she whispers as I escort her through the empty halls to the dining room. Guess it’s safe to talk now—clearly, full-blooded fae have better hearing than I do. Or it’s that land-sense she mentioned. Either way, I hate having to rely on Owena to know all this.
“The best of my life? Really?”
She elbows me in my side.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself before we enter, and pretend Owena is Ellie.
My heart fractures with every smile I give her, with every affectionate touch I sneak into what etiquette demands. But catching my mother’s growing annoyance out of the corner of my eye welds the cracks together with the fire of my resolve.
I will find a way out of this and back to Ellie.
