She chucked the core at his chest with a roll of her eyes. “Sorry,youwere rescuingme?”
He responded with an offended gasp. “I untied your hands! Anyway, could you please get on with reversing this curse?”
“What?”
Javi clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You know.” He gestured at his hair.
“Oh, I can’t undo all of that. Would there be anything left of you?”
He scowled. “Do you need aplease?”
“That would be nice.”
“Fine.Please.”
“Well, now it doesn’t sound sincere,” she quipped as she peeled the tangerine, plucked a wedge, and popped it into her mouth.
“You broke the curse over Cairn. I’m asking, begging,pleadingyou to break mine.”
She supposed she had broken a curse. Funny that, when she couldn’t begin to figure out how to break her own. Not that she had any idea how she’d defeated the Fangal. She had simply spoken the truth as she picked at the magic holding the curse together.
As Risa glanced at Javi again, that strange, disconcerting feeling of magic being afoot floated along her skin. There was no way for her untrained eye to tell how the curse had befallen him in the first place, whether the starlight drink or her bad luck had done the job. She concentrated on his face until her vision doubled and his hair was all she could see, like watercolor paint bleeding over an unprepared canvas. There was a faint niggling at the back of her head, a warmth she recognized skating across her skin.
“Go away,” she told the blond mop on the prince’s head. But nothing changed.
Javi pulled at a lock of hair, the curl gone limp. “Great work.”
Bottom lip between her teeth, Risa stared harder until her eyes crossed and her nails dug jagged moons into her clenched palms. She felt something like a thorn caught in the pad of a finger, an insistent splinter. She tugged on it and felt something pop in her ears.
An unholy yowl rocked the cart. Brunie swatted at Javi’s dark curls, clearly put off by the change, knocking his circlet right off. Javi screeched when a paw snagged a few strands of hair and pulled them out by the roots.
“You’re welcome,” Risa sang, and leaned over to grab the disgruntled cat.
The prince was restored, handsome as ever. He ran his fingers through his hair and rearranged his circlet until it sat perfectly once again. Patted his face and arms and chest to reassure himself he was whole. When his eyes met hers, she almost swore she saw a flash ofdisappointment in their gold depths, but then they crinkled up with good humor.
“Glad to see you’re back to your beautiful, aggravating self,” she observed.
“My best self.”
The cart banged on, the prince sneaking glances at her every time he thought she wasn’t looking.
“What?” she snapped when he did it for the four hundredth time.
“I know you’re lying about something,” he said, his tone light. It wasn’t an accusation. Merely an observation, void of judgment. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t put you in a dungeon. Unless, of course, you are trying to kill me.”
“I’m not, though it would make everything easier.”
Despite being an unwitting villain destined to bring bad luck and devastation to those around her, Risa couldn’t help but wonder if her own survival was worth his imminent danger. It seemed like she could break curses. Unravel magic by pulling at its seams. But Risa wasn’t sure she could ever pull herself apart. What if there was nothing left?
“You could leave,” he said finally, eyes downcast. “I won’t hold you to Brunhilda’s word.”
“I’ve been trying to get away from you since the beginning,” she admitted.
His gaze cut back to her, and she sucked in a breath. His beauty was alarming: discomfiting and devastating, a kind of magic all on its own. When he looked at her that way—like she wasn’t something to fear—she almost understood how easy it would be to fall in love with him.
“Alas, I am irresistible,” he finished.
“That’s not it.” She ignored the pout he gave her. “I have something I must see through, and I can only do it while on this silly quest.”