Page 13 of Between These Broken Hearts (Cursed Stars #2)

Misha is gone when I wake up and there’s no sign he was ever there, but I can hear footsteps beyond the closed bedroom door.

I dreamed of Misha as he was in the illusion. Of the way his lips parted and his eyes went darker the first time I unbuttoned

his shirt and put my hands on his strong chest. We shouldn’t... he said. But in this dream, his words were cut off as blood bubbled from his mouth and down his chin and his face shifted

to become that of Orlen, the male I killed.

Usually I don’t remember any dreams of my own, but the illusion Konner planted in my mind is strong enough that my own dream

stands as vivid in my mind this morning as the dream with Jasalyn’s memory.

I climb out of bed and look down at the form I’ve taken. Jasalyn’s body is small, and my pants are so big I have to fold and

roll them at the top to keep them from falling. My top slips off one shoulder, but unless Misha brought clothes for me, they’ll

have to do for now.

Stepping out of the bedroom, I find Misha standing at the big window in the kitchen, the morning sun catching on his dark hair and making it shine. I slip into the bathroom before he can turn around.

I take care of my needs and clean up, avoiding the mirror and ignoring the pit in my stomach that comes with not knowing when

I can be in my own skin again. It had been so long since I’d been myself, I’d stopped noticing the discomfort of being in

another’s skin, how every movement and step feels a little off.

When I exit the bathroom, Misha’s waiting and looks me over, some emotion I can’t identify playing at his lips.

Yes, he thought he was falling for Jasalyn and now he’s looking at her again. But this time he knows the truth.

I swallow. “Good morning.”

He arches a brow and stalks toward me. “You had nightmares.”

I cringe. I was probably thrashing in my sleep. “Sorry.”

“Yours or hers?”

“Mine,” I whisper, and he frowns. “I know. I was hoping we’d get something useful too, but it was only a memory of a tutor

teaching her to meditate.”

Nodding, he skims those russet eyes over me again. “I still can’t quite believe it. You’re an entirely different person—from

the way you look to the way you smell to the energy you bring into a room.”

“Yeah. That’s the gift.”

“I still should’ve known,” he says quietly.

He couldn’t have, but I won’t argue. “Is it weird for you?” I have no business asking, but it seems I can’t help myself.

His jaw is hard as he folds his arms. “What do you mean by that?”

I swallow. Serves me right. He doesn’t owe me any explanations for where his emotions are right now. “Nothing. It’s... never mind.”

“Do you mean is it strange to see you in the body of my best friend’s little sister after you made me believe I’d fallen in

love with her?”

My breath catches. Love.

It wasn’t real. He thought you were Jas.

He leans against the counter and studies me with a brow cocked in question. He’s going to make me own up to my real question.

“You wouldn’t have fallen for me if you’d known I wasn’t her.”

His jaw ticks. “No. I don’t tend to fall for females who lie and scheme their way into my bed.”

I bow my head. I deserve that. “Right.”

His exhale is audible. “But to answer your question, not really. I was never attracted to Jasalyn before you posed as her,

so the way I feel when I look at you would be the same whether you’re in this form or that of your great-grandfather. Not

that my feelings are any of your business.”

Before I can reply, a goblin appears in the room and Misha nods to him. “We’re ready.”

The goblin turns to me and cocks his head to the side, giving me a nod. A silent acknowledgment of who I am, and who we both

lost.

Misha looks back and forth between us with a frown before realization dawns. “That was your goblin—that brought me to you

in the cave, that took us back to the castle when you were hurt so badly. He’s gone now?”

“Nigel was sometimes my very best friend.” And sometimes my only friend. My eyes burn with tears I won’t shed.

“Goblins make sacrifices only when they’re certain,” Misha’s goblin says before offering me a hand.

“Let’s go,” Misha says, voice uncharacteristically gruff, and when he takes my other hand, I swear he gives it a subtle squeeze.

I close my eyes and hold my breath while we spin and fall and surge back to Faerie.

When we are fully corporeal again, we’re in a vast room with soaring ceilings and crystal chandeliers. The black floors are

polished to such a shine I can see my reflection in them, and the dais holds a massive, polished ebony throne. Before I can

get my footing, I lose my balance and fall on my backside. I mentally curse my lack of grace.

Misha, of course, landed easily on his own two feet and looks down at me with something like disdain. Wondering how he ever

fell for someone like me in any form, no doubt.

“Felicity!” The sound of my brother’s voice pulls my attention off the Wild Fae king. Hale scoops me off the floor and pulls

me against his chest so hard I might object if it weren’t exactly what I needed. “I knew you were still alive. I couldn’t

explain it. I just knew it.” When he puts me down, he draws back to study me. “How are you? Did they hurt you?”

My throat goes thick with tears. “I missed you too,” I whisper.

“Don’t start with that,” Skylar gripes from across the room. “No teary reunions today.”

“She faced her father and survived,” Remme says. “That’s worth celebrating.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t see my father.”

Hale frowns, then looks to Misha for confirmation, as if he might know better than me.

Males.

Misha presses his lips into a thin line. “I only saw her brother. Another male appeared as we were trying to leave—a silencer

that Felicity killed before he could kill me.”

“Yeah?” Skylar says. She nudges Hale out of the way and pulls me into a hug. “Always knew you had it in you. Good work.”

I huff out a dry laugh and squeeze her in return only to be passed to Remme, then Natan. You aren’t alone in the world. This is your family.

When Natan releases me, he chucks me under the chin, just like he did when I was a little girl.

The shadow queen steps forward, red hair framing her face, and her king consort steps behind.

My whole body tenses. The last time she looked at me, she wanted me dead with every fiber of her being. This time, she’s no

less intimidating, but the energy rolling off her is more like determination than wrath.

I bow my head. “Queen Abriella.”

She looks me over, conflicting emotions twisting her lips. “I won’t pretend I like it when you are in my sister’s form, but

for now it’s necessary. Misha’s filled me in on what you know.”

I look back and forth between them, frowning in confusion, before I realize they likely have a mental connection. He’s probably

been speaking into her mind from the moment we arrived.

“Allow me to apologize for not initially believing your story,” the queen continues. “Thank you for agreeing to help us find her, despite how poorly I treated you. It’s far past time we bring Jas home and put a stop to all that Mordeus has put into motion.”

I look around the group, wondering if any of them are thinking what I am. What if something happened to Jas? What if they’ve

been unable to find her not because the ring makes her so elusive but because she’s dead?

There’s a fire in the queen’s eyes when she says, “She lives, and now we can get to work gathering the tools we need to locate

her.”

“Misha told me about the stone. Tell me how I can help.”

Abriella and Finn exchange a look and when she turns back to me, she nods. “I’m throwing a ball in two nights’ time. I need

you to appear as my sister, as if you never left.”

“A ball?” I look around. I can’t be the only one who thinks the timing on this is absurd. “Right now? With everything else

happening?”

“I need you to be seen,” Abriella says. “There are rumors that my sister has died or that she’s on her deathbed. Rumors that

she’s working with the rebels. Rumors that she and I are estranged. The kingdom needs to see that their princess is well.

They need to know that she can step up if Mordeus or his followers find a way to strike me down.”

“So soon?”

“I would do it sooner if I were confident I could get the necessary players to attend,” she says.

I bite my bottom lip. “Who will I see at this ball? Who knows your sister well enough that I need to worry they might see

through me?”

Beside me, Misha grunts in annoyance and looks me over. “You are physically Jasalyn in every way. Have you ever truly had to worry about that?”

“Look who’s still angry about being duped,” Skylar says. Hale flashes her a look, warning violence, and she rolls her eyes

but shuts her mouth.

“You know you can do this, Lis,” Hale says. “No one can do it but you.”

I turn back to the queen. “If we’re taking this risk, I want to make sure it’s worth it.”

“The ball serves two purposes. One, having the princess be seen. Two, launching our plan to find Jas. Searching for someone

wearing a ring like that? It’s been like searching for a ghost. I know she was here last night—she came to warn me about Mordeus—but

maybe that’s not the only time I’ve seen her. Maybe we’ve found her a dozen times. Maybe one of us finds her every day.” She

shrugs. “We would have no way of knowing because the ring’s magic makes us forget. I need the Stone of Disenchantment for

a spell so that when we do find her, we can nullify the magic that is keeping that ring on her finger and remove it once and

for all.”

Hale touches my arm to get my attention. “This ring is doing worse than making us forget if we find her. It amplifies the

blood magic Mordeus used on her and acts as a conduit between Jasalyn and Mordeus. It’s allowing him to control her. It’s

how he killed so many of his followers—fae who had pledged their lives to him—in order to fuel his resurrection.”