Page 51 of Between These Broken Hearts (Cursed Stars #2)

The evening air cools my heated cheeks, but I still haven’t recovered from the blow Jas delivered before our meeting. Misha’s

kingdom is in jeopardy because of Erith, and he knew. He knew and didn’t tell me.

After leaving the shadow queen’s office, we met with the others. Skylar, predictably, was horrified by our decision to work

with members of the Seven and let their soldiers defend the palace and skeptical of our claim that they want change as much

as we do. The queen’s people were more focused on the logistics—everyone figuring the attack will likely come on or very shortly

after the princess’s birthday. Plans were already in motion to move the shadow court’s Cursed Horde into place for defense.

Meanwhile, I’m selfishly wrapped up in my broken heart and can’t seem to escape the ache of it.

“Why are you out here alone?” Misha asks.

“I’m not alone now,” I say, but the words come out bitter instead of welcoming. I can’t help it. My heart aches, and there

are so many layers to the ache that I can’t begin to untangle them all.

“You’re upset.”

I huff. “Our realms are going to hell. We’re all upset.”

His fingertips graze my arm. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“How could he manage a takeover?” I ask. “You have legions of devoted people, armies and a whole infantry that will defend

you to the death.” I try to meet his eyes but he’s staring at the ground. “Right?”

“Mordeus has armies too,” he says, still not looking at me. “And my court is so small in population compared to the shadow

court. Assuming Mordeus is able to recruit more troops once he takes the throne, I won’t be able to compete with his numbers.”

I can’t take my eyes off the male who has stolen my heart so completely, and he can’t look at me. “Tell me about what’s happening

with your court. With your magic. Tell me the truth about how this is even possible.”

The silence stretches between us for a beat too long and I flinch.

“You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that,” he says.

“Then tell me.”

He drags a hand through his already tousled hair.

“Over the past year, it’s become increasingly clear to me that something wasn’t right within my court.

The glitches in my magic became more frequent and more consequential.

Those issues only escalated as the months went on.

It was only recently that I returned to the Jewel of Peace, and she told me that I severed the magic of my court when I dissolved my marriage and Amira stepped down as queen.

There’s so much about the magical connections between a court and its rulers that we don’t understand, but it seems that since I took the throne with a queen at my side, the magic of the court split between us. ”

“But you aren’t the first to end your marriage, to be without a queen.”

“That’s true. Typically, upon the death of one ruler, the magic would transfer to the other, but Amira was still well. I’m

not the first Wild Fae king to dissolve his marriage, but the others took a new queen almost immediately. Her power didn’t

shift to me and it didn’t have anyone else to shift to either. It’s out there in limbo somewhere, and my own magic gets weaker

every day because of it.”

“Right,” I murmur. “Which is why you need a queen, and quickly.”

His brow wrinkles, the silver webbing on his forehead glowing faintly. “Would you please tell me what you’re really upset

about?”

“You knew .”

Misha’s chest rises and falls with a deep breath. “Lark had some visions. I know very few specifics.”

My gut twists painfully and I look back to the distant city. As dusk approaches, streetlamps are lit one by one. I can imagine

people heading toward their homes, ready to stay in for the night. I’m envious of that—of everyone who has a place to go,

who knows where they belong.

“When Konner had me and you came for me, you insisted that you weren’t there for me personally.

That you had other reasons. I didn’t believe you because I didn’t want to.

” I squeeze my eyes shut. “And now I see what a threat Erith poses. I see that you need the very thing I alone can promise and I wonder if this was ever really about me at all. Or if it was always about what you needed from me.”

“Felicity...” The wind howls in the distance, blowing my white hair across my face. “Would you look at me?” He squeezes

my shoulders, then he urges me around.

I stare at his chest. I am hurting too much to let myself get lost in those russet eyes.

His fingers skim my jawline. “When I was searching all the realms for the female who tricked and betrayed me, I needed an

excuse to want you alive. I couldn’t stand knowing you’d fooled me while still knowing I’d do anything to protect you. I told

myself that if you were destined to kill this male who would take over my throne, I was allowed to want you to live. I was

allowed to do everything in my power to save you.” He stoops so we’re eye to eye. “But the truth was I wanted you to live

because I’d fallen for you, and I was loath to imagine a world without you in it.”

My eyes burn as I lift my chin to look at him. “I wanted you to want me so much you didn’t need an excuse.”

He makes a fist and presses it to his chest. “Erith could die today, and I would still want you. He could take over my court,

and I would still want you. He could kill me tomorrow, and I would still want you.”

I search his face for the reassurance I need to take his pretty words and tuck them away, but my heart aches so much.

“Felicity!”

I pull my gaze off Misha to see Abriella rushing onto the balcony. “What is it?”

“I need you to become my sister one final time.” She hands me an envelope, no doubt containing the hair I will need to do as she asks.

“Why?” Misha asks.

“General Hargova, the leader of the Cursed Horde, is coming to the palace tomorrow. He wants to meet with me and Jas.”

“And why not have your sister appear as herself?” Misha asks, glancing toward me as if he understands that every day I wake

up as someone else it costs me something.

“Because if he sees that scar on Jasalyn’s face, he’ll know that the princess I pointed out to him at the ball wasn’t really

her. He might not forgive the betrayal, and I can’t risk that with what’s coming.”

“Well, well, well, aren’t we looking beautiful in our own skin tonight,” Squird crows when he materializes in my room.

“I’m enjoying it while I can,” I say. Because once Erith is no longer wherever he is to keep Mordeus alive, I’ll have to go

back to hiding—at least until I find a way to get to him and kill him.

I haven’t let myself think about it too much.

I debated for a quarter hour whether I should call Squird, but now that he’s here I’m not sure why I tried to talk myself

out of it at all. I already feel a little better, and I wasn’t sure that was possible today.

“Care for a game?” he asks, whipping a deck of cards from his pants pocket.

“Sure.” I sit on the floor, tucking my legs under me. Squird sits facing me, dealing cards between us in the traditional layout of solitaire. I smile, remembering Nigel. Maybe Squird doesn’t like to play alone either. “How do we do this together?”

“I move the cards and if I don’t know what to do next, I ask you and then I move the cards the way you said.”

I bite back a laugh. “Sounds good.”

We settle in and I watch him play without my help for a few minutes, but my mind keeps spinning back to Misha and all the

reasons he had for making me feel wanted. Within a matter of days, Mordeus’s forces will descend on this palace and wreck

the future of this court and the lives of people I’ve come to care about. I should be thinking of how to help with that , not dwelling on my stupid hurt feelings.

“Spit it out,” Squird says, not looking up at me.

“It’s just been a weird day.” I bite my lip, then decide to go for it. “What do you know about getting out of faerie bargains?”

“It depends on the bargain.”

“For example?” I ask.

“If you agree to give all your meals to a faerie and begin to eat only snacks, he would get nothing.”

“What if you agreed to trade your life?”

He lifts his head and sighs. “You’re speaking of the princess and what she traded for her magical ring.”

“If Mordeus takes over her body, so many other awful things will follow. But if we can prevent it by somehow getting her out

of her deal...”

“Offer your meals when you have no meals and you give nothing. Offer your life when you have no life and you give nothing.”

I bow my head. I’m too tired for this, but he’s probably right.

It could be that the only way out of this is for Jasalyn to give up her life before she turns eighteen.

It’s irony in its most heartbreaking form, knowing that might be the best path for someone who finally wants to live after wishing for death for so long.

“Are you going to sit there and pretend this is really all that’s on your mind, or are you going to talk to me about your

broken heart?”

I gape. “Who told you that I have a broken heart?”

“Can smell it.” He wrinkles his nose and waves a hand in front of his face. “No offense, but it’s rather unpleasant. Rancid

and pungent, like juice left to sour.”

“Sorry about that.” I point to the next card he should play and watch as he flies through three more moves. “You’ve gotten

better.”

“Been practicing.” He tears his gaze off the cards to frown at me. “So? The broken heart? Did you break his right back?”

I huff. “No.” Then frown, thinking of how Misha looked at me when I walked away from him tonight—like it took everything in

him to let me go. “Maybe? I don’t know. I just thought someone finally wanted me for myself. No agenda, no ulterior motives,

you know?”

He hums and plays another card. “But he does, doesn’t he? Nigel told me he could smell the stink of new love on the Wild Fae

king.”

My heart twists. “That was when he thought I was the princess.”

“Oh, so he’s said he’s not interested in you now, then?”

“No, but—”

“So he’s acted in a way that shows he’s not interested?” He bobs his head. “They say actions speak louder than words, which is odd when the actions are often

quiet ones, but I do think they’re more meaningful all the same.”

Goblins. Literal and logical to such an extreme. Nigel would never let me stew in my feelings either. “I just wish he would’ve told

me the truth about needing me for more than...” I shrug, and when Squird directs a confused frown in my direction, I blush.

“More than affection. I wish he would’ve been honest with me about the other ways he needed me.”

“Pfft,” he says. “Then this romance would’ve been even shorter lived than it already was. First thing you look for is a reason

to believe what he feels isn’t real.”

Before I can respond, he jumps to his feet and drops his cards, looking around frantically. “I have to leave.” He turns worried

eyes on me. “I can’t be here when it happens, and I can’t come back until it’s settled. Goblins cannot involve themselves

in these matters.”

Before I can ask more about what he means, he’s gone.