“Apologies, Your Highness, but our orders are from Princess Theodore. The Aeradian festival can get a little rowdy after midnight; it’s in your best interest to stay here,” the older guard says.

“I was looking for the King, you peons!” I cross my arms and scowl.

“King Lachlan is asleep in his bed. Your search would’ve been meaningless, Your Highness. Please get some rest,” he says as he leaves the room. At the door, he turns and stiffly reenters. “Also, Princess Theodore asked that I give you this. She said it will stifle any lasting effects of alcohol.” He hands me a small vial containing a sparkling liquid within.

“What?” I pout. “I don’t want the effects of my drinking to be gone; that’s the whole point of drinking!” He shakes his head and laughs.

“For the morning, Your Highness. Trust me; we’ve all used it a time or two.”

“Or twelve!” The other male shouts from the hallway. The door closes, and though I whine to myself, I begrudgingly unscrew the vial and drink the shimmering purple liquid. It tastes like sweet berries. Though the lovely haze of the alcohol cloud remains, my throbbing head does feel much better.

I pull the remaining pins from my hair and toss them on the dresser, where they almost land in the ivy growing in an Aeradian red pot. I wobble to the bed and fling myself onto it. I’d left my corset in the tavern cellar, and now the only thing between me and the fine linen sheets is a half-undone dress and my chemise. I yawn. Tomorrow. I’ll get ready for bed tomorrow. My eyes close, and I drift into sleep.

The door slams, and I jerk up from my hard sleep, drool staining my pillow.

“Idalia.”

I scowl, although a larger part of me swarms with embarrassment. “What do you want?” I hiss, pulling my knees to my chest.

Braizen’s eyes flare. “I need you to listen to me, fully and without interruption. Before you say anything–”

“Excuse you?!” My entire body goes rigid. “You burst into my chamber without warning, wake me from my slumber, and now you assume you can make demands? I think not!”

“You don't understand–”

“I understand plenty,” I retort. “We’re enemies, remember? You said so yourself. Why should we act like anything different? Now, if you don’t mind.” I motion for him to leave.

“Sparrow,” he says with bared teeth. “I really need you to listen.”

“No, Braizen, I need you to listen! Go away!”

“Sparrow…” he tries, but I dismiss him again.

“Get out of here this instant, or I’ll call for the guards.”

“Shut up, Idalia! I’m trying to tell you that we can break this curse!”

I freeze. Have I gone mad? Did Teddy’s elixir cause delusions? “What did you just say?”

He moves closer. “The curse. We think it can be broken.”

“We?” I ask cautiously.