Page 12 of Kiss and Spell
Xavier let the disdain bleed into his voice. “When you say it like that, it sounds super easy. Who decided that fairy tales must end with a kiss? Why can’t they end with a hug or a friendly handshake?”
Whitney lightly smacked his arm. “Hush. I’m talking about true love. Do I need to remind you of a plucky young woman, an overgrown pumpkin, and the perfect glass slipper?”
“I’ve read the book and I’ve seen the movie,” he muttered.
She shook her head. “You’re not going to find your kiss sitting up in your room moping. Get out, get into the Grove, and be you. Dazzle. Be friendly. Remember, sometimes the fairy tale we’re living in has a different ending. Be open to how your story unfolds.”
“I’ll try,” Xavier said. On his walk tonight, he had found a star-themed bistro that served coffee and pastries. No doubt there was probably a local bookstore that could help him research fairy tales and happy endings. He strolled past a community garden; his heart dropped to his shoes. Xavier missed his little corner of the world.
He’d been content reading in the royal greenhouse, away from the gossips of the Fae Court. He faithfully attended family dinners and showed up for special occasions, but for the most part he was left to his own devices. Since he was a second son and an earthbound fae who lacked wings, Xavier was granted a degree of freedom that his older siblings lacked. He could just be himself—no expectations, just show up and smile. He’d been fine with his life until that fateful night he accidentally insulted the Faerie Queen and ended up with this enchantment on his head.
He’d mocked love, and now love was going to make a mockery of him.
Mother was oddly quiet about his twist of fate, but Father saw this moment as an opportunity to make a strategic marriage. Once news spread about his quest, princesses and well-off ladies from every corner of the Faerie Realm arrived by carriage to their castle with flirtatious smiles. Father forced him to smile and play host to their eager guests in hopes of making a good match. They spoke love with their lips, but Xavier saw the calculating glint in their eyes. To them, he was not a prince to be courted, but an alliance to be won.
An Alder prince followed through no matter the task, but he couldn’t find his perfect kiss in the Faerie Realm. One heated moment with the wrong fae princess could lead to an unexpected commitment to wed a woman he didn’t know. What if he found his perfect kiss with a titled lady his parents didn’t approve of? What if he became honor bound to wed an innocent princess he probably wouldn’t know how to love? His blood went cold.
Xavier swore he would break this curse, before it broke him.
Each Grove date had been pleasant with him, but there hadn’t been a spark. He’d look into their eyes and… feel disappointment about the evening. He never got a second date.
When Xavier thought about what his perfect happy ending looked like, he came up with a blank page. No castle. No princess. No kiss. Time was of the essence, especially with every passing midnight bringing him closer to his midsummer deadline. He’d wished that tonight would bring him one step closer to solving his pesky curse.
If wishes were pennies, he’d have enough money to take him back to his royal gardens.
Whitney’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“The caterer’s going to be here all day, so feel free to go into town and have some fun,” Whitney said. She rewrapped the yarn ball and put it in a basket next to the couch.
Right. Fun. In the Realm, he’d been so consumed with his job settling disputes between local royals that he often declined party invites. How did one have fun again?
“What does one do for fun here in Freya Grove?” he asked.
Her face brightened with merriment. Xavier’s ears tingled once he saw that expression. The last time he saw that look, he and Whitney ended up feeding her birthday cake to the unicorns in the stables at home. Mother made him clean off the rainbow frosting from their horns.
“I heard there might be a festival of some sort,” she said coyly.
“What type of festival, Whitney?” he asked in a warning tone.
She rose from the couch quickly, as if she were running away from his question. Whitney gave a big, showy yawn and blinked sluggishly as if the Sandman had dosed her with some of his shiny dust. “Oh dear. It’s late. I should retire for the night.”
Xavier grumbled. She could run, but she couldn’t hide forever. This conversation wasn’t over, and he’d speak to her in the morning about this mysterious festival.
“Good night, Whitney.” Xavier pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“Sleep well, beloved,” she said, her eyes kind.
He went up to the guest bedroom on the second floor. Xavier turned on the overhead light and adjusted it using the dimmer switch. The bedroom was bathed in a low light that seemed to invite him to rest. Once Whitney learned he was staying with her, she’d redesigned the room with his favorite colors, shades of green and gray. She wanted him to have a home away from home. Fresh daisies in a vase on the bedside table brightened the room. The walls were painted sea green that matched the curtains of his four-poster bed, with its lush sheets. With a very undignified grunt, Xavier flopped onto the bed, letting the blankets swallow him whole. He was so tired that he didn’t even bother to undress. This was not his life. He’d slipped into this borrowed life the way that someone slipped into a coat left over at a party. This was not his bed. As sleep called to him, Xavier let memories of past evenings wash over him.
When he was a child, Mama read him and his siblings bedtime stories about enchantresses who were as powerful as they were beautiful. Enchantresses who controlled the elements with a snap of their fingers. The one who could divine the future in a glass of water. Maybe a visit with a local fortune teller would help shake him out of this foul mood. His mind replayed his interlude with Ursula. Ah, yes. Madame Caraway. The crystal-gazer.
His blood still hummed from their handshake. It only lasted a few seconds, but it stayed on his mind for hours and seared his skin. He’d been briefly taken aback when she declined his rose. Xavier was used to fae folk fighting over a single petal from an Alder family member, let alone a rosebud. He once saw two royals brawl over who was going to claim his brother’s discarded lapel rose. But Xavier understood Ursula’s reasons for turning his gesture down.
He was a stranger, and he was on his way to meet his actual date. She probably thought he was a princely rogue, careless with his affections and intentions. That was not a good look for him. But he wanted to thank her for seeing him to the boardwalk. For making him truly smile for the first time in what seemed like months. For being a friend to a stranger. If he ever saw her again, he’d properly thank her and apologize for his arrogance. She might have been dressed like the typical fortune teller but something more was there behind her costume.
Xavier had peered into Madame Caraway’s eyes and saw a light that was absolutely spellbinding. He saw a light that made a dreary part of his spirit glow.
Chapter Five