Chapter Four The Cursed Prince

Chapter Four

The Cursed Prince

Lore

Foul humans with their foul mouths .

My hatred for Samara's brothers grew the longer I remained within the presence of this woman who flinched when I lifted a finger and looked at me as if I were the one who had harmed her.

It was a bitter irony given she was the one who had rejected my kindness, severing my hand with the very knife I had given her, a blade so sharp it could hew a stone in two.

That was seven years ago, and still I felt the pain of that day. It went beyond the phantom ache in my limb. This woman had carved her name in my heart long ago, and I still bled from that open wound.

She was my curse, and I wanted to be free.

"What did you choose?" Samara asked.

I blinked, so lost in my own thoughts, I had trouble tracking hers.

"What?"

"You said you had chosen how I will repay you," she said. "What did you choose?"

I watched her mouth as she spoke. There was something beautiful about the way words formed on her lips. It was not a helpful observation for my cock, which was growing inconveniently harder the longer I looked at her.

"Your Highness?"

I wanted her to say my name. I wanted to hear it in the dead of night while she lay beneath me, overcome with pleasure.

I ground my teeth, frustrated by my thoughts but it was also a reminder of why I'd rescued this woman and brought her into my world.

"I need you to break my curse," I said.

Before she could respond, I turned toward the fox.

"Lead the way, Fox. We only have seven days."

"As you command, Prince," said the fox, who rose and trotted off into the forest.

The trees were thick, their limbs heavy with thorned garland and wild grape vines. The ground was covered with an intricate tangle of tree roots, ferns, and wood anemone that bloomed white, stark against the sea of green. There were other flowers too, but they were not so dense—purple violets, pale pink gooseberry, and a colony of red bleeding heart. Their magic called to me like music, their petals like pretty bells chiming in the wind. Their scent was just as powerful. Some of it was honeyed and healing, and some of it was metallic and toxic, but nothing could overpower Samara, who smelled like sweet oleander. As enticing as it was, I was the Prince of Nightshade, and I knew that the sweetest things were sometimes the most poisonous.

With Samara, it had only taken a glance—a glimpse of her pale face, rosy lips, and coal-black hair—and it was done. That was how I knew I was cursed, because there was no such thing as love at first sight, yet here I was, completely ensnared and unable to escape her as she stumbled around behind me in an attempt to navigate the tangled wood.

Everything about her was loud . Her footsteps were like water crashing upon rocks, her breathing like the howling wind, and she was as slow as a snail. If this was to be our pace, I would fail to break my curse in seven days. I considered carrying her, but the thought of touching her made my body feel too warm and too tight. It was exciting to the point that it repulsed me.

"My lord?" Samara spoke softly but breathlessly.

I recognized her hesitancy as fear, and I did not like it, but I knew her brothers were responsible. They had been terrible since the moment I met her seven years ago. I would have killed them had she not stopped me. I did not understand why she protected them. I had killed my own brothers a time or two for far lesser offenses, though the action was futile. They just came back, worse than before.

I didn't look at her or ease my stride.

"You may call me Lore," I said, my voice tight. I wondered if it was a mistake to let her say my name, yet pressure built in my chest as I waited for her to speak it.

She didn't.

"May I ask you a question?" she asked.

I took a breath and let it out slowly, attempting to dispel the disappointment.

"You may," I said. As much as I dreaded what she might ask, I did not want to tell her no.

"Why are you cursed?"

"I looked at an enchantress, and now I cannot escape her," I said. It was close enough to the truth.

"It seems rather extreme to curse someone for staring," she said.

Ahead of us, the fox snorted. "His Highness has cursed many for far less."

I glared at the creature, thinking that I'd like to show him what it was to be cursed and sentence him to wear his fur inside out for the rest of his life, but I resisted the urge for vengeance. Samara was so used to horror, I did not want to become another monster in her eyes.

"Perhaps that is why you are cursed," said Samara.

Her comment frustrated me, and I paused, turning to face her.

"Are you implying that I deserve to be cursed?"

She ceased to breathe as I watched her, growing pale. I did not even know why it mattered what she thought; she was mortal and had no understanding of the world that flourished beneath the boughs of the Enchanted Forest. Still, I desired to know.

"No, my lord," she said.

"Then what are you saying?" I wanted to close the distance between us, but I did not want to watch her cower before me.

"Ignore me, my lord. I know not what I speak."

"Do you dislike my name?" I asked, tilting my head to the side as I watched her.

For a second, she looked confused. "No, my lord."

"Then why don't you use it?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but then she closed it and lowered her head. "I apologize… Lore ."

"I do not want an apology," I said. "I want to know what you really think."

She watched me like prey shivering beneath the eyes of a wolf.

"I won't hurt you. I have promised, and I cannot break a promise," I said.

"It does not matter that you cannot break promises. I do not trust you," she said. "I will call you Lore when I trust you."

My chest felt tight, like she had taken a hold of my heart. I did not want to feel disappointed by her words. Lore was not even my true name, but that was not a name I would offer for the same reason, as eager as I was to hear her say it. It was a reckless thought. The gift of a true name was the offer of power. I could not deny her anything if she spoke it, though I knew I'd deny her nothing no matter what she chose to call me.

That was the danger of this curse.

I dipped my chin and held her gaze. "As you desire," I said. "And?"

"And what, my lord?" She used my title deliberately, as if to emphasize her point, her eyes alight with challenge. I wasn't even sure she realized it, and if I pointed it out, she'd likely crawl back into her shell, so I said nothing, only smirked, liking this peek at who she could have been—maybe who she still could be—without her brothers.

"You have an opinion on why I am cursed," I said. "I want to know it."

She took a breath, lifting her chin. She did not answer my question but asked one instead "Why do you curse people?"

I had not thought much about it. I suppose people just annoyed me, but I did not want to say that aloud.

"To teach lessons," I said.

It wasn't untrue, even if the lesson was leaving me alone.

"What kind of lessons?" she asked.

I hesitated. Oh, she was challenging.

"I suppose that depends on the offense," I said.

She watched me, and I waited, anxious for her approval.

"I do not think anyone deserves to be cursed," she said. "But if the purpose of a curse is to learn a lesson, what is yours?"

"I was not cursed to learn a lesson," I said.

There was no point in loving someone who did not love you back. Whoever had brought this upon me—likely one of my beastly brothers—intended one thing— torture .

I turned and began walking again.

"But isn't that how curses are broken?" she asked as she followed.

"Not this one," I said.

"Then I do not understand how I am supposed to break this curse."

"You aren't going to break it," I said. "You will wish it away."

It took me a moment, but I soon realized that Samara had stopped following. I paused and turned, but she was gone. Instantly, dread pooled in the pit of my stomach.

"Samara!" I jogged back to the place where I'd seen her last and looked in all directions but saw only dense, green foliage. It was as though she'd vanished. "Fuck!"

"You dimwit," said the fox. "You scared her!"

"I did not intend to!" I said. "She didn't even give me a chance to explain!"

"She told you she did not trust you," said the fox. "Yet you led with a wish!"

"I am aware," I snapped. I had a feeling she would remind me often, with her actions and her words, but if she'd given me a chance, I'd have told her about the wishing tree and its magic. "Fuck," I muttered again, scanning the ground for signs of her footsteps when I noticed a sprawling shrub with leafy, dark green vines. Purple flowers grew in clusters along their stems, and some had turned into bright red berries. It was bitter nightshade, and like all plants of its kind, they were singing.

There once lived a prince of poison

Who marked a mortal as his chosen.

But she did not want to be his wife

So she severed his hand with a knife,

And now his heart is broken.

I ground my teeth. Despite my power, I often battled the singsong nightshades. The forest had influence first, and she took great joy in taunting me, which had given me a specific reputation among the fae, since no one heard what I heard.

"I will poison you to the root if you do not tell me where she has gone," I growled.

The nightshade shivered, and their tune changed quickly.

Look close, Prince.

See our limbs, they are limp.

See our leaves, they are ripped.

Your lover, she came this way.

Your lover, she ran this way!

The bitter nightshade continued to repeat the verse as I followed the broken path Samara had left trampling through the forest to escape me.

Escape . That word twisted through me. As much as I wanted to be rid of this curse, this obsession, I wanted to be the one Samara never feared.

"Are you ever going to tell her?" the fox asked. He lingered behind me, trotting along as if nothing were wrong.

"Tell her what, Fox?" I asked, frustrated.

"Who you are," he said. "That you are the hand who offered the knife."

"Why would I tell her such a thing? She showed how she felt seven years ago," I said, not wanting to face her rejection again.

"Perhaps you are wrong."

"How can I be wrong when my hand is gone?" I asked.

"Her brothers, they are terrible things," said the fox. "Have you considered that they may be why you lost your hand?"

"Of course I have considered," I said. "But nothing changes that she held the knife."

"Surely, that is not true."

Honestly, I did not know, but it was easier to believe. She had already rejected me once, and I did not want to face it again.

"What I need most right now is to keep Samara from running so she can break my curse," I said. After that, I would be free, and so would she, and neither of us would ever think of the other again.

"Are you sure you are cursed?" asked the fox.

"Of course I am sure. She is all I ever think about!"

For the last seven years, she was all I ever dreamed about.

"Have you tried thinking of something else?"

"Of course I have!" I roared, annoyed by the fox's ridiculous words. I had tried to think of anything else. I'd gone to the very edge of the world and sat with the sun, moon, and stars and still thought of nothing but her. She was unmatched—brighter than the sun, more beautiful than the moon, sweeter than the stars. I loved her more than anything in this terrible world, and I hated it. "I cannot escape her."

"Apparently, you can," said the fox. "Or at the very least, she can escape you ."

I growled low in my throat. "I hate you, Fox."

"Mutual, Prince," he said.

As we continued, a persistent thump echoed throughout the wood. At first, it was faint, but the farther we walked, the louder it grew, and so did my dread. It was soon joined by the sound of flutes and fiddles. It was the sound of fae revelry, and it had likely drawn Samara's attention, as it would many unlucky mortals tonight.

Just ahead, there came an old fae woman who was no bigger than a crow, her wings beating hard and fast. She wore a skirt of green grass and a shirt made from the petals of a poppy. She carried an umbrella made from maple leaves to keep the sun off her skin, which was so pale, it was almost translucent. Without it, she would surely burn to death.

"Fair maiden," I said.

"I cannot delay, my lord," she said, her voice high-pitched like a small bell. "For I must be off to the marsh where the night raven sleeps."

I followed beside her. "I will join you on your journey if you tell me from where that music comes."

"It comes from the elfin hill," she said. "The maidens are practicing their dances."

There were many elfin hills of varying sizes. Some were small and some were large, some housed tiny fae and some housed larger fae, and unless they were open, they merely appeared to be grassy mounds.

"For whom are they practicing?" I asked.

"Why, for the old elf king's honorable guests," she said.

"Would I know them, fair maiden?"

"I am certain I would not know," she said. "For I do not know you."

I gritted my teeth but tried not to show my frustration.

"If the maidens are practicing their dances and the old elf king has invited many distinguished guests, then there must be much to celebrate," I said.

"Oh, there will be, but only if every maiden ends the night betrothed," said the fae.

"Are there many eligible maidens?" I asked.

"Oh yes, for the music you have heard will only reach the ears of those who are unwed, even mortals."

I no longer had any doubt as to where Samara had gone.

"Tell me, fair maiden, who is invited tonight?"

"Anyone may come to the ball, which will take place after the banquet, but the banquet is only for the elf king's honorable guests," she said. "Now, I have delayed too long, and there is much still to do. I must be on my way as I have yet to send the invitations, and the night raven will wake soon."

"Fair maiden, you have been so busy. Allow me to assist you," I said. "If you tell me who is invited, I will go to the night raven for you."

"What a dear," she said. "If you will do me this favor, then you may come to the ball this night!"

"I am at your service," I said, bowing very slightly.

The old elf maid smiled so wildly and with much relief and then began speaking. "His first visit must be to Nereus and his daughters, who will likely not stay long, for they do not want to be gone from the sea. Still, we shall try to make them comfortable. We must ask the brownies, though it is nighttime, and they may not want to abandon their chores. Oh, and do not forget the trolls—not the giant ones, for they will stomp on the ground and cause much strife, but the ones with tails who are smaller and can fit beneath the hilltop."

The longer the fae rattled on, the more I regretted my decision, but I thought about Samara dancing beneath the moonlight for men who were not me, which reminded me why I needed to do this.

"I am hesitant to ask the ghosts, but I fear they will haunt our guests if I do not. But if we invite the ghosts, we must also invite the gloson and keep him well fed, or he will seek food among our guests."

"Of course, fair maiden," I said quickly, interrupting her before she could add more creatures to her list of guests. "Is there anything else you may need? You so smartly mentioned food. Perhaps there is something I could fetch for the old king's distinguished guests."

"What a blessing you are!" she said. "I daresay, our guests of honor—the goblin king and his sons—would enjoy a few rusty nails, but they must be from the foot of a bone horse, for those are a delicacy. If you return with them before sundown, you may have a seat at the banquet."

"Does the goblin king seek a wife?"

"For his two sons," she said. "Though they are rumored to be careless and rude."

"Pity the women they choose," I said.

"Nay, good sir," she said. "For the maidens shall become princesses, and their husbands will inherit many castles and goblin gold."

"I'd rather the castles and gold," I said.

"Well, perhaps the goblin king's sons will like the look of you, and then you will have castles and gold. Now off with you!" she said and called out as she turned. "The night raven will wake soon!"

There was silence for a few seconds, and then the fox spoke.

"Surely, a prince of your rank would be an honored guest? Wouldn't it have been easier to tell the old elf maid who you were?"

"No," I said. I was lucky she had not recognized me, and I hoped the same would be true tonight at the ball. Otherwise, I would fail to rescue Samara. "Trust me, it will be far easier to pry nails from the feet of a bone horse."