“Are you fucking serious right now?!”
I turn at the sound. Caeo’s there, hunched over, breathing heavily. I bring my hands to my chest, clutching them tight.
I have to keep Caeo in sight.
I back away from both of them, far enough that they’d have to run in opposite directions to escape my field of vision. Cadoc’s people are mostly gone, the frantic sounds of evacuation disappearing into the darkness.
The fae woman approaches Caeo as he drops to the ground, resting her hand on his back as she speaks to him in hushed tones. Shame burns within me—I should be the one comforting him, not her.
His face is wet with tears, his body trembling as he pulls his knees to his chest. And Taran… He can’t look at Caeo, or me, his knuckles white as his fingers clench into his palms.
There’s so much to say. To both of them, but I can’t. Not without destroying the other.
I hit the earth as my knees buckle. Hugging myself tightly, I gasp for air, my lungs compressed by the weight of my mistakes.
How can I possibly fix this?
My heart twists tighter and tighter. I press my eyes shut.
My breathing slows.
The ache loosens. Cold air prickles my skin.
What’s going on? Why am I crying?
With a deep inhale, I open my eyes to the grass in front of me.How did I get here? Did I fall?
I was with Emlyn when Reid came in, and it felt intrusive to stay, so I left. Then Taran was upset, and I reached for him, and now…What happened?
Holes in my memory.It must be the curse.
Every other time this has happened, I’ve been mid-conversation with someone. But nobody’s talking to me now.
Part of the reason we came here, other than confronting the queen, was for something related to my curse. With everything from before my eyes were closed missing, maybe whatever that was is triggering it visually now?
“Taran?” I call, covering my eyes with my hands and squeezing them shut. “Taran, are you there?”
A broken voice sobs, but I don’t recognize it.
“I’m here, Ellie.” Taran’s voice is close. Wrecked.
“I can’t remember what’s happening. Is it the curse?”
“It is.”
“What should I do?”
“I… I don’t know. I don’t know what the right thing to do is.” His voice wavers as he speaks.
“We have to break the curse,” the other voice says. Male.
An icy gust of wind. I sit up straighter, resisting the urge to uncover my eyes. “We can break it? How?”
“Owena, break it, please.” Raw desperation edges the voice. Beneath the pain, it sounds strangely familiar. Homey.
A new voice cuts through—female. “I’m not certain that’s the best course of action right now.”
“What the fuck? That’s the whole reason I brought you here.”
