I feel snot gathering in my throat and cough it away. “It’s not a big deal, it’s fine,” I lie. I can tell that she knows it’s a lie, because she’s spent roughly twenty-one years telling herself the same one, but she doesn’t call me on it.

“Well. Thank you, however you came to be here. I’ve never met anyone else…” Cursed, I think, but she says, “Like me.” She gives me a furtive, hungry look that causes me to suspect the life of a cursed princess is several degrees lonelier than the life of a dying girl.

Primrose clears her throat. “And thank you for saving me from my curse. At least for now.” She looks toward her bedroom door, eyes flashing eerie green. “I still feel it calling to me. I haven’t slept all night for fear I will wake in that tower room, reaching toward that wheel. Perhaps if I destroy it—my father would surely burn it if he knew—”

“No!” Panic makes my voice overloud. “I mean, please don’t. I’m pretty sure that thing is my only ticket out of here. It must be a portal or something, a match to the one back home.” A sly little voice whispers are you sure you want to go home? I elect to ignore it.

Primrose looks doubtful. “But what if it sends you into an enchanted sleep, as it would me?”

“Maybe. I don’t know the rules, man.” I run my fingers through the greasy tangle of my hair. “I’m just saying don’t set it on fire yet. Give me a second to think.”

Primrose opens her mouth to respond, but a light tap comes at the door. A voice calls, “Your Majesty. Your father requests your presence in the throne room.”

I watch the pale bob of her throat as the princess swallows. “Of course. A moment, only.” She spins back to me. “I have to go. Stay hidden until my return.” It’s an order, casually issued, as if she can’t imagine anyone disobeying her.

I bow my head as she sweeps from the room.

I scroll through the ten or fifteen messages I’ve missed from Charm (are you okay tho? are there pharmacies in fairyland??) and type back: I only have 35% battery so I’m turning this off in case of emergencies. xoxo

ummmm this IS an emergency. why are you not freaking out. why are you not trying to come back.

I start to type because but can’t decide what comes next. Because I don’t want to, at least not yet. Because I’ve fallen out of my own story and into one that might have a happy ending. Because this is my last chance to have a real adventure, to escape, to do more than play out the clock.

In the end I just write i’ll come back. cross my heart, before turning my phone off. Then I wallow my way out of Primrose’s ridiculous bed, steal a gown from her wardrobe, and slip out the door after her.