Page 93 of Cursed Evermore

She must have been going crazy looking for me. Grandmother would have been the first to come up with a plan to save me. And I knew she would never stop looking until she found me. Father disappearing was one thing, butme?

She would never leave me to whatever terrible fate had taken me.

I imagined her face when she found the necklace. And how her heart must have broken. My sweet grandmother did her best to protect me, but I’d doomed myself from the moment I cast that blood spell.

Nothing good had come of it. Even if I knew more about the origins of my curse and what Father had done. None of this was worth it.

If I had one wish now, it would be to go home. I wished Grandmother could find me and take me back to the safety of those who loved me.

A stronger gust of wind pulled me from my melancholy thoughts. The wind lifted my hair higher, so it danced across my shoulders. I pushed it out of my face and pulled the shawl closer.

Seeking distraction from my dark thoughts, I looked down at the waters again and spotted a colorful school of large fish swimming through the waves.

I admired them, gazing with awe as I wondered what they were. They appeared to be trout, but I’d never seen them in colors of bright green and orange. They also had large, round eyes that reminded me of owls.

“The waters change the closer we get to the Veil, my Lady,” came a deep male voice from behind me, making me jump.

I turned to see one of the Fae warriors who’d taken me to my room yesterday. The blond one. Like the other guy, he’d worn his long hair in a war braid.

He moved to my side with impossible grace for someone so tall. Just like Wolfe. The air between us crackled with that distinct Fae energy that made my skin prickle with awareness. His presence brought both threat and intrigue—a combination that made my heart beat traitorously faster. It made me wonder if he was of the same breed of unhinged as Wolfe.

“Most humans find it unsettling to see the different types of creatures.” His eyes brightened.

I gripped the railing tighter, forcing myself to remain still even as my instincts screamed at me to retreat. “I find it fascinating.”

“That’s good to hear.” A playful smile graced his full lips. Emabelle would have said he had the pretty boy face of a rake with a dash of savage.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t plan on joining them.” That was probably what he’d thought and came to check on me.

“As lovely as they are, I didn’t figure you the type to jump ship.” His expression softened slightly—the first crack I'd seen in any of their masks.

“What are they?” I glanced back.

“They are angalou. One of the many Veil-touched creatures. Legend has it that they were once trout who’d been changed by the magic emitting from the Veil. At night, they glow whatever color you see them now, but since they swim deep, so few ever see them. They’re hunting now. That’s why they’re out in full force.”

“I’ve never heard of them before. They weren’t in any of my grandmother’s books.”

“Most beings don’t know about them. You’d have to sail the open seas often enough to see them.”

“She didn’t do that. She’s more of a land person.”

It was strange thinking I’d seen something my grandmother might not have known about, and I couldn’t help the fascination that filled me. Not even two days had passed of my captivity, and so far, I’d met more Fae than I’d ever read about, a mage, a woodland sprite, and now these strange,beautifulfish.

“The Tideheart is strong here.”

Tideheart. The magical center of the seas.

Just thinking the name made me shiver. It felt like I was listening to one of Grandmother’s stories that always kept me mesmerized.

After allowing myself a few moments of captivation, I glanced back at the Fae male, aware he was watching me.

“I’m Garrick.” He tipped his head slightly, revealing a crossed blades rune tattooed on the side of his neck. The dark lines seemed to drink in the sunlight. I recognized the design fromthe old language to meanwarrior. I wondered if the tattoo represented all the battles he'd won. Or all the lives he'd taken.

As if reading my thoughts about his warrior status, he added in a proud, reverent tone, “I am third in the Bloodsworn.”

“Bloodsworn?” The word tasted like copper on my tongue.

“The king’s guards, and part of Lord Nightblade’s Veythral Circle—his most trusted advisors. We are bound by oaths written in blood and sealed with ancient magic.”