Curses

by Lish McBride

  She frowned at him. “Or I could just buy him? Our first option doesn’t have to be illegal, you know.”

  “Buying him seems wrong,” Tevin said.

  Merit shrugged, but she had a determined look on her face. “Perhaps. But I can get him out of here and onto a train, then released back into the Enchanted Forest where he belongs.” Her grin turned slightly evil. “And then I’ll see what I can do to keep them from using the money to buy another. There has to be some law I can pass.” She leaned close to the cage. “Hang in there, my friend. You’ll see freedom soon.”

  Reluctantly, they left the marar behind for now, exiting back into the sun. “You don’t have to do any of that, you know,” Tevin said, guiding her back toward some more rides.

  Merit took his arm. “It would be a sad world if we only did what we had to do. Besides, what’s the point of having power and money if I don’t use it for good?”

  Tevin knew there was probably an argument against her logic, but he couldn’t think of it. They stopped when another ride caught their attention. As they watched, pairs of riders climbed into large wooden swans. Once the couple were seated, a mage activated it, and the swan became amazingly lifelike, stretching out graceful wings and arching its neck as the couple floated down a river into an archway covered in vines.

  “Should we try another ride?” Tevin asked, nodding at the line that led to the swans.

  “You want to go on this one?” Merit said, dubious. “Won’t you get sick?”

  Tevin pulled her forward. “It looks safe enough.” He stopped to hand over their tickets and helped Merit climb into the swan before he followed her into the seat.

  “How do you think it works,” Merit whispered, “with only one mage?”

  “Like hacks, I suppose. The mage group makes them and then sets up a simple activation system.” The mage tapped their swan, and it swam forward, the motion gentle. The magic made the wood under Tevin’s fingers feel like warm feathers. They ducked, laughing, as the swan went through the vines.

  The realization of what kind of ride they were on came swiftly and simultaneously to both of them. Probably when they caught a glimpse of the couple ahead locked together like they had decided to become one being.

  “Oh,” Merit said, her cheeks heating. “I should have guessed.” She eyed the décor. The scenery was whimsically fashioned, full of flowers and weeping willows, the soft glow of mage light making the riders feel both alone and overwhelmingly aware of the romance.

  “They’re not paying any attention to the décor,” Tevin said.

  “They’re missing everything,” Merit agreed. “Like that tree over there. That is some tree.”

  “Yup,” Tevin said. “With branches, even.”

  They both sat very quietly then, trying desperately to look at the décor.

  “Hey, more vines. Oh, now we’re in some sort of grotto,” Merit whispered. “How wonderful.”

  The light in the grotto was soft, giving one the feeling of being on a pond at dusk a few moments from nightfall. To Tevin’s absolute horror, there was also music—the sweet, smooth strains of a violin playing a romantic tune. Soft rain fell, and Tevin brushed flower petals off of his sleeve. “Whoever made this ride is a monster.”

  Merit reached up and very carefully pulled a rose petal out of his hair. “The absolute worst.” She started giggling then, her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Her eyes lit up; her cheeks flushed. Tevin couldn’t help but join her, and they giggled until they were gasping, her face in his shoulder.

  By the time she looked up, they were in another part of the ride, about to go under a sweetheart bridge. The violin music swelled, the scent of flowers strong from the earlier shower of petals.

  Merit’s brown eyes met his.

  If he leaned forward, just a few inches, they would be doing what every other person on this ride was doing. Which he absolutely, 100 percent, should not do. He was supposed to be helping her find a husband, which had nothing to do with kissing.

  What would it hurt, though? One kiss. He could steal one kiss, a little voice inside him coaxed. That voice was like a slap. Steal. Because it would have to be stolen, wouldn’t it? She wouldn’t give one away, not to him. Not to someone so much like the boy who’d hurt her.

  Her face was still tilted up at him, laughter leaving her rosy cheeked. He needed something to break the moment, and clearly the ride was not going to be any help whatsoever.

  “I think I should remind you,” Tevin said, his voice the barest of whispers, “that I threw up earlier. A lot.”

  This announcement made Merit collapse into another fit of giggles, laughing until her eyes were filled with tears.

  They went under the bridge and then the ride was over.

  They found Val and Kaiya after that, Kaiya’s arms full of a giant stuffed cat. The fur was black, with faintly purple rosettes, the eyes a vivid emerald green.

  “Look, Merit!” Kaiya said. “I won!”

  “What, Val, empty-handed?” Tevin asked.

  Val glowered at him, clearly grouchy that she hadn’t been able to win the big cat for Kaiya. When she noticed that Merit’s hands were empty, she clucked her tongue. “What, you didn’t win Merit anything?”

  “Of course not,” Tevin said. “She was supposed to win something for me. And she did. Then what did she do? She gave it away.” He glared down at her. “You, miss, owe me a fladger.”

  Merit’s watch chimed, and she took it out of her pocket, glancing at the time. “We should go. My tincture is going to wear off soon.”

  Kaiya bought them all candy apples as they left, which they ate in the hack on the way home. Once Kaiya poked her head in and said the coast was clear, they snuck through the back door into Cravan House, everyone tired, sticky, and happy.

  When they reached the stairs where they’d go their separate ways, Merit stood up on her toes and kissed Tevin’s cheek. “Thanks for today.”

  “Anytime,” Tevin whispered, watching her as she lifted up her skirts and took the stairs two at a time, racing to her rooms before she became a beast once more. He stood there for several long minutes afterward, listening to the ticking of the clock down the hall. The hour chimed, and Tevin wished he was a man very different from himself. The kind who could take Merit out without sneaking her through the back door. The kind who could have a day like today as a gift, instead of something he had to steal.

  CHAPTER 17

  A CURSE, MILADY

  Merit stared at the gown her mother had picked out for her. Tiny pearl buttons ran up the back. She’d need help fastening them. With a sigh, Merit took her tincture, hating the feel of being pulled inside out, before she pulled the dress over her head. She’d cut it as close as she could—barely enough time for a simple hairstyle and to get dressed. She’d been able to skip her dose this morning when she went to meet with Freddie to make up for missing ice cream yesterday. He’d taken her for a ride in a rowboat on the lake, got tired halfway through, and made Merit paddle back. Which had actually been fun. She liked rowing, and he was amusing as he pretended to be dying from exertion.

  Freddie hadn’t cared that she came as a beast on their outing, which was great. She didn’t want so many doses of tincture so close together. As it was, she felt worn thin and tired. The beast was pacing inside her, she could feel it, and one good slice of claws would break down her barriers.

  Which might explain why she snarled at the door when someone knocked.

  “Is that a ‘come in’ snarl or a ‘go away’ snarl?” Tevin’s voice was muffled by the door. She couldn’t even see him, but part of her started to relax. Tevin would help her fix this, her dress, her mood, all of it. Somehow she knew he would, and that also irritated her, because she should have been able to fix it herself.

  “It’s both,” she said, the snap still in her voice.

  “Okay,” T
evin said, slipping through the door. “Then I’ll come in, but I’ll be careful about it.”

  She pulled her hair to the side. “At least make yourself useful.”

  Tevin came up behind her, gamely lining up buttons. “These are terrible. Either my fingers are too big or the buttons are too small.”

  Merit huffed a laugh. “Both, probably.”

  “Did you go back for your marar today?” Tevin asked.

  Merit shook her head. “I couldn’t go myself, so Ellery went. I paid an exorbitant sum, but the marar will be loaded onto the train in the morning, bound for my estate. I had to mirror my groundskeeper. He’ll be in charge of letting it go. I’m going to have to pay the man a bonus.”

  “Aren’t you worried about the creature coming back onto your lands?”

  Merit shrugged, making him miss a buttonhole. “I don’t think so. The forest is large, and it’s where they belong. It’s not like he’s a tame house cat, Tevin.”

  He continued to button, cursing softly under his breath. “How did your outing this morning go?”

  “Pleasant. Freddie was very entertaining. Why, have you dug up terrible things?” Merit asked, looking at him in the mirror.

  He fumbled one of the buttons. “No.” None of them had uncovered anything newsworthy about any of Merit’s possible suitors, much to his irritation. His gut insisted that Latimer was off, that there was something there, but he couldn’t help but wonder if that was jealousy rearing its snaggle-toothed head.

  “You promised not to hold anything back.” Merit’s lips firmed, her gaze sharp.

  “I don’t like Latimer.” How many buttons did a blasted dress need, anyway?

  “Why?”

  Her scrutiny made him want to fidget. “I don’t know, okay? Val, Amaury, we’ve found nothing so far.” That didn’t change the fact that he wanted to strike Latimer’s name from her list. Tevin scowled at the buttons. He couldn’t look at her.

  “That’s all? You just don’t like him?” She tried to turn, and he had to nudge her shoulder so she’d stay in place.

  “You’re going to pop the buttons.”

  “So I wear a different dress.” Exasperation filled every word. “Latimer has been nothing but polite and attentive so far. He’s also the queen’s choice. I ask you, truthfully, has he said a single thing—done a single thing—that you can point at as evidence of a poor character?”

  Why had he promised her he wouldn’t lie? He always lied. Lying was as easy as breathing. So why had he not only promised, but why was it so blasted important for him to not break the promise? Whatever it was, he couldn’t. He could keep information from her, but when she asked him directly like that, he felt the unbearable urge to vomit up the facts into her lap.

  No,” Tevin ground out, concentrating fiercely on her ridiculous buttons. “But you also promised to listen to my suggestions.” Another button. Why was he sweating? He stared blindly at his fingers.

  “I am listening. I’m simply not doing what you want.” Her hand holding back her hair tightened. “So far he’s been nothing like Jasper. That’s what you’re supposed to be protecting me from.”

  It was just the verbal wallop Tevin needed—a reminder that he was here because of everything he had in common with Jasper. Jealousy was a sneak thief, taking all his good sense.

  “Tevin—”

  He finished the last button and straightened, blinking rapidly and looking away. “It’s silly to put tiny buttons that you can’t reach on your gown. What happens if you need to get out of it quickly because your tincture wears off?”

  “I’ve told Mother, but she doesn’t listen.” Merit’s words were tentative, as if she wasn’t sure she should let the subject drop.

  Tevin ran a finger down the line of buttons. “Your mother can run an entire barony, but she can’t take two seconds to think about your buttons.”

  Merit tried to smile and mostly succeeded. “That’s what you’re for, I guess.”

  It hung heavily in the air between them as they both tried not to think about the fact that Tevin was only around until her birthday.

  “I have to finish getting ready,” Merit said. “I promised Mother I’d dote on Cedric and Latimer.”

  “Right,” Tevin said, turning to leave. “I’ll see you in the carriage.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Tonight’s entertainment featured a formal dinner at the home of Cedric Fedorova, next in line for the Fedorova barony. He lived in a palatial home on the outskirts of town, far enough away that despite the speed of Lady Cravan’s carriages, it still took them half an hour to get there. The immense back garden was walled in, boasting several rows of fruit trees, a fountain, an assortment of tulips, lilacs, and other flowers, and several bushes planted to draw butterflies. The Fedorovas had decided to host the dinner outside, festooning the trees with brightly colored lanterns. At least fifty other people—mostly fairyborn with a smattering of humans—wandered around the gardens in their finery.

  Long tables had been brought outdoors and covered with silver tablecloths before being burdened with candles, plates, silverware, flower arrangements, and, for some reason that Tevin couldn’t decipher, pineapples.

  “Why pineapples?” Val asked, leaning close, her eyes on Kaiya as she escorted Lady Zarla over to talk to Glendon.

  “I’m more concerned about the birds,” Tevin whispered back. He probably should have guessed after the whole leashed-peacock lake debacle that Cedric had an inordinate fascination with birds. What he’d failed to consider was just how far an idle fairyborn gentleman could take it. There were several peacocks, yes. But also pheasants, a chivalrous parrot, an irritated swan, and doves in cages.

  “I have questions,” Amaury said. “Also concerns.”

  A distinctly avian voice cackled from the tree above them. “Be you friend or knave, good sir?”

  “Did the parrot just call me good sir?” Tevin asked.

  “At least it didn’t call you fair maiden,” Val replied.

  Merit leaned close to Tevin’s ear. “Yes. Prepare to be good-sirred and miladyed to death, if not by Cedric, then by his parrot.”

  They greeted Cedric, who was of course overjoyed to see Merit and her guests—he was probably less overjoyed to see her guests but was kind enough to pretend that wasn’t the case.

  “I want to hate him,” Amaury said. “Because—” He waved at everything around them. “But it would be like kicking a baby duck.”

  “He’s too nice,” Tevin said. There was a certain softness to Cedric that Tevin both envied and disliked. He was annoyed by the very idea that anyone had been allowed to grow up to be that gentle. He also felt an overwhelming urge to shelter the baby duck that was Cedric for the same reason.

  Merit hissed out a breath.

  “What is it?” Tevin asked. “Did you see the peacock from the park? Is it back for revenge?”

  “They invited a godling.” Merit’s voice was shaky, though she appeared calm. Tevin followed her gaze to a thin, hawkish-looking gentleman who was currently nudging away one of the peacocks with his foot. His lip was curled up in distaste, the wings at his back starting to hum as they flickered. They were folded away, but Tevin thought that if he extended his wings, they’d look like a dragonfly’s.

  A short, plump woman in a gold evening gown laid a placating hand on the godling’s shoulder. “My apologies, Godling Price.” She held the other one up, hailing her son. “Cedric! Please come help with the peacocks.”

  Cedric, who had been in deep discussion with a few other guests, went to help immediately, but instead of shooing the birds away from the godling, he allowed them to stay where they were and started to tell the godling interesting facts about them. As he was talking, one of the peacocks fanned out his tail, causing a gentleman to leap back, knocking into one of the tables. The table shook, and Tevin
was worried for a second that one of the candles would topple, setting the linens ablaze. From the far end of the party, one of the peahens shrieked, the sound not unlike someone being murdered horribly. Everyone startled at the sound and at the following crash when someone dropped their glass. One of the servants ran over, trying to clean up before someone stepped on it. Cedric didn’t seem to notice any of it.

  The godling’s ears reddened like he was about to explode all over the babbling Cedric just as one of the birds in the tree pooped, the white smear of it blossoming on the lapel of Price’s suit.

  “Oh dear,” Cedric said good-naturedly. “Apologies, of course.” He snapped his fingers, and one of the staff ran up, face pale and fingers shaking as they offered to take the godling’s jacket and clean it.

  “Do you want to leave?” Tevin asked. “We can get you out of here.”

  “No,” Merit said, giving him a brave smile. “It’s fine. I can manage one night.”

  Shortly after that, dinner began, and Tevin scanned the neatly drawn placards until he found his name, unsurprised that he was at a different table from Merit.

  The frustration over his argument earlier with Merit had left Tevin with a piercing sort of headache, and trying to make his way through the delicate razor wire that passed for conversation among Merit’s circle wasn’t helping. Tevin’s real problem was that Eric Latimer, heir to the kingdom of Huldre and absolute pompous ass, sat across from Merit and very far from him. How was he supposed to keep investigating the man if he was across the room?

  Cedric probably had no choice but to place his competition close—Latimer’s title was too high for him to be stuck on the outskirts like Tevin. Which meant that while Cedric sat at the head of the table, Merit sat next to him on one side and the godling on the other. Cedric had to divide his attention between Merit and the godling so he didn’t give offense, and Latimer was using that to his advantage, monopolizing her time.

  Lady Zarla was doubtless overjoyed. Latimer was the best catch out of all of them, and Tevin had to grudgingly admit that he seemed genuinely interested in his discussion with Merit. He was hanging on her every word, almost to the point of neglecting conversation with the people around him.