Page 26

CHAPTER 26

Seraphine

Sneaking into the castle was difficult.

If I had been just an earthly spirit, I’d have managed so much easier, but as it was, a good hour before the moon was full in the darkening sky, I was mostly solid. I reached up to touch my nose and beyond while hidden in yet another alcove, waiting for the servants to continue on their way and stop gossiping about the duke who had just arrived at the front door to the palace.

Arthur was here.

But I didn’t need him.

I slipped out of the shadows as the servants left, sticking to the tapestries along the wall, silent in my bare feet and soundless dress. I had ditched my shoes at the back door of the castle kitchens, solid enough to pretend to be a servant myself, my head bent and no one to really care to glance my way after I’d grabbed a large pitcher of wine to carry.

If anything, the servants were dressed quite lovely and whispers told me it was in celebration of Prince Urik’s betrothed soon waking from her curse with a kiss.

Many of the whispers included that it was not the Prince of Havenshire who could wake her, but a Duke of Riche.

But it wouldn’t be either of them.

No duke, no prince.

Just a hidden princess, determined to set her own fate.

I had lips.

I loved me.

And I knew in my heart, this was what Fiola wanted me to learn all along.

I would never leave, or have to decide whether I was good enough company to stay.

I loved me most.

And in the days of my curse, I had finally learned that curse-breaking lesson.

Every inch of my body that had returned was not from the duke or the man I loved. It was all from me—loving me, taking care of me, protecting and advocating for me .

My decision to wake myself from the curse had brought lips. My run through the winding paths to the back door of the castle had brought me a nose.

And as I ascended the winding stair of the tallest tower, avoiding the two guards at the bottom landing who gossiped to a few servants by the door, I felt my cheeks form, burning with exertion as I climbed and climbed, the pads of my feet lightly tapping along the dusty steps of the tallest tower.

I came to the door of the tower room, breathless, a smile as wide as the wingspan of the prince I wished had asked me to stay. The latch clicked and I pushed through the door, closing it softly behind me—ready to face my body and return to it as a woman uncursed, and loved.

Urik had placed my body upon an ornate four poster bed with white sheets and white drapery hanging in silvery swaths of translucent fabric that flowed gently with the breeze coming from the open window. Seven alcoves around the circular room hosted seven tapestries depicting the human kingdoms of Revelry.

I approached, steadily studying myself outside of myself.

I looked so fragile—a weak creature waiting to be saved. My skin was cold, my heartbeat so slow, I would have assumed my death would be sooner than the time I had left for the Cursed Moon’s rise.

“It’s alright,” I whispered, brushing back my golden curls, fanned across the downy pillow. “I love you most.”

I closed my eyes and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on my own lips.

I blinked once. Then twice, straightening myself upright next to my body. My eyes stung with the chilled air and the wind picked up, blowing sharply through the room. I touched my face. I had eyes. I had a forehead, long flowing hair, and a tiara I wanted to toss out the window.

I had returned.

But not to the body on the bed. That body went cold. I checked for a pulse and found none.

I’d done it. I’d returned, but to this body that had formed from my spirit.

Voices sounded on the stairwell and I recognized the rage of Urik’s fury.

Jolting from the bed and scrambling behind the tapestry of Riche, I peeked from the small alcove to see Urik shoving Arthur through the tower door, sword to his back.

The duke was bruised, battered, and all together unwell, hunched and struggling, as blood pooled at the corner of his lip.

“Do it and be done,” Urik spat. “Then I can send you back to that castle where you can rot, just like your mother.”

I flinched at his cruelty, transfixed as Arthur turned in a rage, facing Urik’s sword at his chest. He pointed at my dead body. “She will never love you,” he seethed. “She will never be yours. The day I made that deal with you is a day I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

Urik chuckled darkly, piercing Arthur’s skin with his blade. “Your life may be over soon enough anyway. Do it. Break the curse.”

Arthur turned, approaching the bed.

My heart raced so loudly, I feared they’d hear it and find me hidden, placing me back into the prison of princess I had just escaped.

He sat on the side of the bed, pulling at his jacket to wipe the blood from his mouth. In a light whisper he said, “I’m so sorry, Seraphine. So, so sorry.”

“Get on with it!” Urik yelled.

Arthur brushed my body’s cold cheek, bent his head and kissed my lips.

“Well?” Urik snarled, pushing him back.

Arthur stumbled from the bed, his face crestfallen.

A sound of disbelief at my situation escaped me, and I slapped my hand over my mouth but not before Arthur caught my eyes behind the tapestry, cold shock across his face.

“Why isn’t she waking?” Urik kissed my cold body, then rose, shaking it desperately. “Wake! I command you to wake!”

Arthur’s face calmed as realization hit him. One slight nod was his assurance to me that he would keep silent.

“Wake, damn you!” A slap hit my dead body’s face, the only hint of color rising from the force of Urik’s hand.

“Enough!” Arthur shouted, sprinting to grab the Prince of Havenshire. He didn’t quite make it to Urik before a stream of black shot through the window, pummeling my betrothed to the ground.