Hardly a straight answer. Typical fae trickery, I assumed. Veiled words. Hints. Lies.
“How do I break the curse?” Not that I believed for a second that Maelgwyn’s creation would give me an honest answer, but it was worth a try. At least I could rule out whatever she said.
She graced me with a faint smile. “You must give your life.”
I frowned, goosebumps peppering my skin. “You just said you’re me, if I choose to go ahead. How can both be true?”
“Time will ravage and decay everything you love. Your heart will break relentlessly and the pain will never fade. You will be cursed to inhabit this world alone, for eternity, as it changes and lives and dies around you. You will lose everything for a crown.”
I rolled my eyes. She sounded like a child’s toy, spouting prerecorded phrases. Nothing she said made sense, or even linked to her last sentences, never mind mine. She wasn’t real. If she really was me, she’d know that I had no interest in crowns. I was here to break a curse, and then I was going home. I wouldn’t be in this world at all. Let the princes keep their rewards, I had no use for them. I’d save this God-forsaken world, but as soon as it was done, I was going home, mortal and free, to binge my favourite shows and eat all the fajitas I could get my hands on.
This was just a final diversion designed to make me doubt myself. More lies and tricks. I had no time for such nonsense, not now. I knew I was close.
“Let’s get this over with,” I muttered, turning my back on myself. I half expected my immortal self to grab me, or at least argue, but my hand reached the door unhindered.
“I tried to warn you.”
I glanced back, but the speaker had vanished, leaving me well and truly alone, but for the chill creeping down my spine.
Just a trick, I reminded myself and pushed open the final door.
19Well, Hello, Prince Charming
I’d expected to find a pair of neatly made beds, each with a handsome prince sleeping peacefully within, with not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in their blankets. Instead, two stone tombs stood side by side in the centre of the circular chamber, firmly closed and draped in cobwebs. There were no more stairs or archways or tricks. I had reached the top of the tower at last.
The rest of the room was eerily empty, as silent as a grave. More cobwebs hung from the vaulted stone ceiling, and motes of dust drifted in the dim glow cast by my lantern, but they were the only adornments.
I eyed the floor. A thick carpet of dust blanketed the stone, but I could still make out the shape of the tiles. If there were any traps, they were well disguised.
I licked my dry lips. The last thing I wanted was to test that floor for hidden traps and open a centuries-old tomb. What would I find within? A shrivelled husk? A skeleton? What if the princes weren’t sleeping at all? What if they were dead? My hammering heart sank. Why hadn’t I asked that question until now? Ancient bargains or not, it was blatantly obvious that an evil uncle who wanted to steal his nephew’s throne would find a permanent solution to his problems. He wasn’t going to risk the curse being broken and his rule challenged. Had all this been for nothing?
I had to be sure. I had to see with my own eyes. The witches would be difficult to convince, and as they had no way of entering the tower, I would have to tell a compelling story, maybe bring back some evidence of the deaths. If only my phone still worked. I wasn’t in the habit of photographing corpses, but it would have been helpful today…
I grasped the stone arch, my fingers biting into the crevices, and pressed one foot against a tile. Nothing happened. I pressed a little harder. The ceiling didn’t cave in, neither did another chasm open beneath me, or poisoned darts fly from the wall. With my heart attempting to burst from my chest, I transferred all my weight onto my extended foot.
The room stayed silent and still. I blew out a slow breath and took another step, and another, all the while expecting death to come swooping from the shadows. But nothing happened, and in no time, I was standing at the foot of a tomb.
Now what?
I squinted in the faint light cast by my lantern. The stone appeared to be carved with yet more rune-like markings. A spell? The curse itself, keeping them sealed, maybe? I dipped my sweaty fingers into the dust, smearing it away from one such mark. Whatever it was, whatever it meant, I was none the wiser. If only Sage was here, I was willing to bet she’d be able to read it. But there was, at least, one carving I could decipher. A pair of crossed, curved swords marked the centre of the lid. Maelgwyn’s way of saying ‘ye be warned, me hearties’? I gave the swords a snort of disdain. As last ditch efforts went, it was a poor deterrent.
There was only one thing left for me to do. Discovering a skeleton was not top of my bucket list, but getting out of this mess definitely was, so I braced my hands against the corner of the stone lid and heaved.
For a long, horrifying moment, nothing happened. I held my breath, the pressure in my head building as I threw everything I had into my push. Just as I was about to give up, the lid shifted with a jolt and groan. It barely moved a few inches, but it was enough to expose an inner corner of the tomb. Neon green light spilled through the gap, painting my skin a sickly shade. I snatched my hands away, but my skin didn’t bubble and melt from my bones. It was just… light.
With my nerves in knots, I approached the tomb again and dipped my fingers into the wavering glow. It rippled like sunlight shining through water, while my fingers cast dense beams of shadow. Motes of dust drifted through the neon glow. Mesmerising.
I was wasting time. The tomb was almost open. Assuming this wasn’t some elaborate decoy, I’d almost found myself a handsome prince to send me home. With a deep breath, I shoved the lid again. It ground into motion a little easier this time, and I didn’t let surprise stop me. My lips pulled back into a snarl as I pushed and pushed with everything I had, until all at once, the lid slid freely, and my momentum had me ploughing belly first into the rock. The crash of the lid hitting the floor was enough to set the entire tower quaking. I ducked my head, expecting the stone ceiling to cave in or the floor to give way, but when the echoes stopped rattling off the walls, I was still alive. There was only one thing left to do. If only I could bring myself to open my eyes and discover what lay within the tomb. Green glowed through my eyelids, coaxing me, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to see.
“Come on, Aliza,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just a body.”
I’d seen lots of bodies in my time. Not humans, or fae, for that matter, but what difference did that make?
Holding my breath, I cracked open my eyes.
The tomb was filled with light, ebbing and pulsing like a recently disturbed bathtub, but within the glow drifted the most breathtaking fae I’d yet seen.
My eyes widened and my breath left my body in a rush. The sleeping male was gorgeous, young and fair skinned, with a straight nose, and cheekbones I could cut my lip on, if I dared to try. His long, powerful limbs drifted as he floated in the light, so peaceful and beautiful. His hair wafted around his head in an ebony cloud, stained with streaks of neon light. The painting at Nairsgarth had failed to do him justice.
Who was he? Anwir or Idris? It would have been much simpler if they’d had the decency not to split into two separate embryos. What did it matter? Two princes or not, there was only one curse, and only one human stupid enough to contemplate breaking it.
But how to break it?
As tempting as it was to fall into a daze and stare at such masculine perfection, I had a job to do, and I didn’t have forever. I needed to get out of this God-forsaken tower and back to the witches before something happened. The crash of the tomb lid had probably been heard by King Maelgwyn himself. A swarm of flying monkeys was probably heading this way, but as keen as I was to get this over with, I had no idea what to do next. Give my life? What did that even mean? Was I supposed to plunge my dagger into my own belly and shower the unsuspecting prince in the blood of a human sacrifice? Waking up to a bog-standard alarm clock was bad enough. Snorting at such nonsense, I worried my lip between my teeth. I wasn’t supposed to kiss the prince, was I? It couldn’t be that cliché. Besides, wasn’t it always true love’s kiss that broke the spell? I’d never laid eyes on this male before, not even the fleeting glimpse that was enough to set off happily ever after in most fairytales. And as pretty as the light was, how could I be sure it wouldn’t melt my face off if I leaned in? Just because it hadn’t harmed my fingers or my new immortal companion, it didn’t mean something awful wasn’t lurking. I was quite fond of my face, and I certainly didn’t love the unfortunate stranger floating in the tomb, but I had to do something. I imagined returning to Sage, explaining I’d found the princes but had been too scared of a silly little light to break the curse. Then I thought of my parents, of me trapped on the wrong side of the rift forevermore. This male was my ticket home, if only he would open his eyes, and as for true love’s kiss, well… all those fairytales had come from somewhere, hadn’t they? To Hell with it.
I leaned over the side of the tomb, the stone digging into my belly. Green light washed over me, but apart from the burning as my eyes adjusted, nothing terrible happened. My face was inches from the prince’s when I hesitated.
What if it worked? The rifts would open. I wouldn’t be the only creature leaving Neath. Hungry vampires and lusty witches would flood my world, driven by centuries of deprivation. What if Mum invited a vampire in for a cup of tea? What if a witch got her claws into dad? Would I end up with a swarm of long-lived half-sisters?
What if I really did get to go home? What if, before the week was out, I was reunited with my parents? With my life?
I could warn people about the dubious visitors who followed me through. Maybe I could even convince this prince to seal the rifts anew, after I’d gone through, of course. He’d surely be grateful enough to bow to my every demand, if I ever got on with breaking this God-damned curse.
My mouth had gone dry. I swallowed, darting my tongue over my lips as I contemplated the sleepy perfection inches from my face.
“I can only apologise,” I whispered. “I don’t usually do this without permission…”
I pressed my lips to his.
