Page 10 of Between These Broken Hearts (Cursed Stars #2)

“How...?” I croak. The single word feels like swallowing crushed glass through unused vocal cords.

“I’ll explain everything later,” Misha says, turning his back to me and heading to a small kitchen area, where he pours water

into a kettle.

I nod, but inside I’m a mess. I killed someone. And while part of me understands that I did what I had to do to protect Misha,

and ultimately myself, the rest of me howls with devastation.

“You hesitated,” Misha says, as if reading my thoughts. They’re probably written all over my face. “You’ve never taken a life.”

It’s not a question so I don’t bother answering.

“I appreciate it,” he says, and I realize he’s been watching me as I fumble through my chaotic thoughts. I catch sight of

dark circles beneath his russet eyes before he turns to put the kettle on the fire. Has he lost sleep since I was taken from

his dungeon cell? Does that have anything to do with me?

Unlikely, Felicity. You fooled him.

I’m still not convinced this isn’t an illusion.

He turns his back to the kettle and catches me staring, so I glance around the cottage.

It’s small and tidy, and the fire crackling in the hearth fills the space with warmth and light.

On the wall opposite the kitchen, there are two doors, to a bedroom and a bathing room, if I had to guess. “We won’t be found here?”

“By your brother? I certainly hope not. As for the human who owns this place, she’s traveling and I had a friend shield it

so no one can track us here so long as we’re inside.”

A friend? I’m surprised Misha didn’t do it himself, but I don’t bother asking why. I’m too tired. Deep-in-my-bones tired.

In my heart. “If you don’t want him tracking us—tracking me —when we return to Faerie, I’ll need to take another form. Assuming we aren’t planning to stay within this shield forever?”

He shifts and withdraws a small pouch from his pocket. “I know. I brought hair.”

I frown. If I want to take someone’s form, I have to fall asleep with one of their hairs clutched to my chest. When I was

locked in Misha’s cell, I told him about how I shift but I didn’t tell him about the hair. “How?”

“Your brother.” He shakes his head. “Kendrick, not the prick from that cell. We found him and his friends after you went missing,

and we’ve all been working together to find you and Jasalyn. Hale told me what you’d need to take the princess’s form again.”

“The princess is missing?”

He squeezes the back of his neck before tilting his face up to the ceiling.

“The ring you told us about—it doesn’t just give her the kiss of death.

It makes it so people bend to her will, and when she walks away no one can remember her.

And now apparently Jasalyn can’t remove it.

So they don’t know exactly when she went missing, and they can’t remember why she left or what was said or happened to make her go.

Your brother was smart enough to make some notes, but he has no notes about whatever made her leave. ”

“That ring is controlling her. More than she knows.”

“Kendrick confirmed as much.” He squeezes the back of his neck. I’ve never seen him look so exhausted. “Meanwhile, the shadow

court is on the verge of civil war. Mordeus’s followers are preparing to move against the queen. If her enemies know the princess

is missing, they’ll use it against her to sow doubt in the crown. So long as Jasalyn wears that ring, we’ll never truly be

able to find her, especially with Mordeus having some level of control over her body and actions. What’s worse is that she

doesn’t even know what will happen on her birthday.”

I frown, wondering if I’m misremembering what I learned through her memories. “You mean because of trading her immortal life

for the ring?”

He blows out a long breath and holds my gaze for a beat before speaking. “Because Jasalyn is a phoenix and once her life ends,

Mordeus will be able to harness that power through their connection and take over her body. Mordeus’s resurrection will be

complete when his spirit takes her body on her eighteenth birthday.”

“A phoenix? As in the bird that burns and rises from the ash?” I’ve heard of such a thing but never had reason to believe

it was more than a myth. “And she doesn’t know?”

“That’s why we need you. We need to find her and tell her what Mordeus has planned—to save the princess and the Unseelie Court.”

That’s why he came for me—because they need me to help them find Jas. Not because he’s in love with me or even because he

forgives me.

“The shadow queen has found a tool that will help us rid her of the ring, and with your special gifts, you could help us retrieve

it.”

“What tool?”

“It’s called the Stone of Disenchantment. It could nullify the ring’s magic.”

“So if we nullify the ring’s magic then Mordeus can’t take over her body?”

The look in his eyes tells me his answer before he speaks. “Unfortunately, the link between Jasalyn and Mordeus goes much

deeper than a magical ring. Using the Stone of Disenchantment is only the first step, but we have to start here.”

I give a shaky nod. I’ll help. However I can, I’ll help. But the confirmation that Misha came because he needs my help and

not because he cares lands like a blow.

“We can talk about all this tomorrow. You need to rest.” The kettle whistles and he turns away from me, removing it from the

fire before busying himself over steaming mugs in the kitchen.

“It feels like I’ve done nothing but rest for months. Unless you still hate me and prefer I’m silent.”

He brings a mug to me. “Drink this, Prin—” He catches himself and clears his throat. “Felicity.”

I roll the warm mug between my cold hands, staring at it instead of at him. How many times did I long to hear my name from

his tongue? I just hoped it would be said with the same tenderness he used when he called me Jasalyn. “Thank you.”

“For the tea or for rescuing you after eight months of captivity?”

My head snaps up. “ Eight months? You waited eight months to come for me? Was that supposed to be some kind of punishment?”

His eyes go wide for a beat. “Are you always so grateful when someone saves your life?”

“Why do I doubt you wanted to?”

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” He folds his arms. “You are lucky we found you at all. Lucky you left traces of blood behind in your cell that we

could use to track you, lucky that we had a collection of very talented magic wielders at our disposal who could help, and

lucky we didn’t give up when we came up empty-handed in realm after realm. Then once we located you behind some artfully crafted

wards, we had to begin the process of determining how to access that cell—a task that required a combination of powerful portal

magic, sacred stones, and a vast knowledge of the layout of a massive prison in an unknown land.” He flashes a cruel smile.

“But please accept my apologies if we didn’t manage all that fast enough for you.”

I grimace. I need to stop giving him more reasons to loathe me. “I didn’t mean...” I take a breath and push to standing.

“I’m sorry. I really am grateful.”

I open the doors opposite the kitchen and discover I was right. One is a bathing room and one is a bedroom. A tiny one. With

only one bed. One very small bed.

Of course.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” I say, already turning to leave the room.

“You’ll sleep in the bed,” Misha says before I can get far. “You’re the one who needs to dream.”

“Right. Okay. I only need to sleep long enough to dream.” I open the pouch and withdraw a single strand of chestnut hair. “Where did you get these? We’re sure they’re hers?”

“Abriella’s goblin provided them, though I hate to imagine what he required for such a favor.”

“There’s nothing the queen wouldn’t give for her sister.”

Misha grimaces. “And that’s why Jasalyn’s disappearance is so troubling. If she falls into the wrong hands...”

“So long as she wears the ring, she’ll be able to escape anyone who tries to catch her.” I glance down at my clothes—a basic

cotton tunic and pants—and try not to think of how they must’ve changed me while I was stuck in that illusion-fueled stasis.

They’ll be too big once I’m back in Jasalyn’s form, but that’s a problem for after our return to Faerie.

I kick off my boots and climb onto the bed. It’s not particularly comfortable, but it won’t matter. I can sleep anywhere.

Misha steps to the side of the bed, snaps his fingers, and a bedroll appears on the floor.

I roll to my side and frown at him. “You’re sleeping in here?”

“I’ve been tasked with bringing you back. The best way to assure that is if I don’t leave your side.”

He removes the sword from his back and a bandolier of knives from his waist, eyes on me the whole time.

“I can feel you staring at me.”

“Interesting.”

I turn my head to glare. “So stop?”

His cocky smirk tilts up the side of his mouth. “Stop looking at you? Or stop being obvious about it?”

My stomach flip-flops. Is he looking because he wants to or for some other reason? “What are you doing?”

He skims his eyes down the front of me, then slowly back up. “Didn’t we just cover that?”

My insides tremble with something I don’t want to identify. “Why?”

He shrugs, giving me his back. He drags his shirt over his head and tosses it on a chair. I try not to watch. I can’t very

well complain about him staring at me and then stare at him. Even if taking my eyes off all that golden skin feels next to

impossible. His skin glows where it’s been kissed by the sun, and my hands itch to run across his broad shoulders.

He turns and I look away. “Like what you see?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. As if I don’t care. As if the memories of his touch don’t haunt me. “You’re not bad. For someone so old.”

He grunts. “Try not to drool on the sheets.”

Seriously? “Keep dreaming.”

“This is truly your natural form?” he asks.

All the warm wiggles in my stomach go cold. I lock my gaze on the ceiling. “We can’t all be like the princess. No matter how

much we might want to be.”