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“I want you to tell me how to break the curse.”
Sethos lifts a manicured brow. “And what curse would that be?”
I fold my arms across my chest. “The gargoyle curse.”
He gives me a long look, his cat-like eyes unblinking. “What makes you think I know anything about that?”
“Oh, come on. You knew about everything else. How to reverse the petrifaction, about the mates thing. You do know, don’t you?”
“Perhaps. What’s it worth to you?”
I knew it would come to this. I’m not mucking around though, so I lead with my best and only bargaining chip. “Your exclusivity contract.”
“Go on.”
“I’ll sign your contract, if you tell me how to lift the curse from William.”
Sethos’ tail flicks against the arm of the red velvet sofa. “Agreed. I’ll have my solicitor draw up the amended contract tomorrow.”
I wait.
“Anything else?” He smirks.
“Aren’t you going to tell me now?”
“Oh no. First you sign. Then I tell. That’s how this works.”
I scowl at him. “No. First you tell. Then I sign. Or no deal.” I stand, ready to walk out. My heart is thumping in my chest, but I keep my hands steady. It’s all acting. Just have to keep my cool and hope he breaks first. Sethos says nothing, so I turn and gather up my handbag, striding toward the door.
He growls. “Fine. Sit down. Sit down. I’ll tell you.”
***
William
I open my eyes and immediately regret it. Someone is shining a blinding light at my face. The glare is excruciating. It’s brighter than any stage light or neon light.
Groaning, I shield my eyes with my hand and blink through my fingers at the blue sky.
Blue!
Sunlight!
It’s been centuries since I’ve seen full daylight, but as soon as it occurs to me I realize that’s what this is. But how?
I grip the rail of the balcony and stare at the city below, marveling at how the sunlight glints off car windshields and warms my skin. God’s blood, I’ve missed this. Not even going to the cinema with Jessie and watching sunlight on the big screen compares. Nothing could.
But what does it mean?
Turning, I push open the door to the living room and search until I find the old phone she gave me. I fumble with the tiny thing for a few moments, finally managing to switch on the screen. “Siri, call princess.”
The phone beeps. “The formal way to address a princess is Your Royal Highness. All subsequent—”
“No, you stupid bloody thing. Call princess!”
Another beep. “Calling Prince’s Palace restaurant.”
“By the blood of the virgin, you stupid fucking thing! Call Jessie!”
