Prince Javi squatted on a moss-covered boulder, glaring at the thicket where she stood.
“You left me,” he said by way of greeting. “Youactuallyleft me. To die. Here. By myself.”
If a prince was murdered in a forest, would anyone hear him scream?
“If only.”
She breezed past his incredulous face to settle on the boulder beside him, one foot tucked beneath her. Cold seeped through her clothes. When she reached up to scratch at an itch on the crown of her head, her fingers became stuck in the mess of her mane.
All she could think of was the large house on the hill back in Barrow, where her parents waited for rain and a daughter who would never come home.
If she were there, a feast and a cake would be waiting beside a gift for her to open. Her parents would be standing on either side of her, their hands ghosting over her shoulders but never touching. She would extricate herself from their expectant gazes, insist on being alone, watch disappointment line their aged faces, and go upstairs to look out into the back garden, where there were no flowers andthe trees had long shed their leaves. There, she would barter once more with the universe. No more curse, for her parents’ sake. And if that could not be arranged, then she could live with the curse so long as it didn’t take her parents. So long as no one else got hurt.
Were they happier now that they no longer had to pretend for her benefit? Would the town welcome them back with open arms, now that the Bad Thing was gone?
Prince Javi scratched at a deep crack in the stone with manicured nails. “This was not how I imagined spending my last few days as a bachelor,” he quipped, as if he hadn’t accused her of leaving him for dead.
“This was not how I imagined spending my birthday,” she admitted, because she was weak, and cold, and tired, and she could feel the heat of him and she had never sat so close to another person who didn’t share her blood.
“That,” he said after a long, punctuating silence, “is very sad.”
He was right, of course. This wasn’t even her saddest birthday. Each year, they had grown steadily more depressing. Once upon a time, she thought that perhaps if she tried hard enough and was nice enough for the whole year, the children would see she wasn’t so bad and would celebrate with her. It only took her one birthday to learn what a silly dream that was. Every birthday brought heartache. Every birthday brought inevitable disillusionment. Nothing would ever change.
Prince Javi let her wallow in her own misery for a moment, which surprised her considering that he seemed to enjoy filling the quiet with inane chatter. He sat there in stilted yet companionable silence, until it grew loud enough to be uncomfortable.
“Are you finished? While I am usually in support of lying aboutin melancholy, I do believe we should attempt an escape while we still have our wits about us. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this forest isverystrange.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she agreed, unwinding her leg and wincing.
He bounded to his feet without another glance and started for the trees. When he realized she wasn’t following, he turned back with a quizzical furrow upon his brow. “Are you coming?”
Risa glared at her toes. “I need a moment. My foot fell asleep.”
“What am I supposed to do about that?”
She took a deep breath and tried not to bargain with the forest gods by offering them a foppish prince. “You could help me up,” she muttered through her gnashed teeth.
Prince Javi—who should have been granted the title Prince of Drama—shook his head at her. “Oh no. Contrary to the muscles straining at the seams of my well-fitted suit, I have a bad back.” He cocked his head. “From carrying all my good looks.”
Actually, she was glad she had returned. Prince Javi deserved whatever her curse had in store for him. Hopefully, it was bloody and slow.
“I promise not to sully your very nice outfit. Just give me your hand.”
He considered her for a long moment, eyes unwavering as they bore into her forehead, searching for something. Whatever he was looking for, he must have found, and he grumbled under his breath. She expected him to sullenly offer his royal palm, but he surprised her by edging close enough to bend down and tuck his shoulder beneath her armpit. She started leaning her weight into him when a noise like a screeching cat erupted out of his mouth. He folded over with a whimper.
“Oh no,” she said, hobbling precariously on her numb foot. She’d heard her father make that sound whenever he bent down to inspect something.
He groaned. “Itoldyou.” His gold eyes flashed from behind his disheveled flop of hair. “I’m a damsel in distress.”
Risa released an exasperated breath and tried her weight on her numb foot. The tingling sensation dissipated, and she reached for the prince, helping him slowly unfold as he continued to whimper.
“Has this happened before?” she asked.
“So now you want to hear all about me,” he snapped, gripping her forearm with impressive strength. He took a step forward with trepidation, then another, his back slightly hunched over, his shoulders tensed around his ears.
“I didn’t think my lack of enthusiasm for chatter would stop you.”
He must have been in real pain not to bother with a response.
