Timothy sucked in a breath then closed his mouth. The fur easily reached the floor. He dug his feet into it to warm them even while he was trying to find a way to stubbornly reject the offering. He supposed accepting one kind act would do him and Nathaniel no further harm. “Fine,” he finally allowed. “Thank you.” Then he remembered what had just been said. “What? What do you mean they won’t?”
“I mean, I didn’t send word to the Regent.” Nathaniel was regarding Timothy draped in the fur with an expression that Timothy could only describe assatisfied. “The more he tries to keep you from endangering yourself in your escape attempts, the more trouble you get into. There has to be a better way, like conversation. Since you’re here,again,” Nathaniel was only less than perfect when he was being dry and cutting, “don’t you think we should talk about this?”
“No. There’s nothing to talk about.” Timothy’s decree lost some force when he sank deeper into the fur and tugged it close.
He had to figure out a way around the curse. Sooner or later, one of his escapes would work. Then he’d stop finding Nathaniel instead of his real destiny. It was just like his uncle to anticipate that and ban all books on magic from the castle except for the ones kept locked in the wizard’s chambers.
That rule had been learned the hard way.
At sixteen, Timothy had snuck into the wizard’s rooms to borrow a book on breaking spells, but he must have read something wrong. Instead of breaking the curse, he’d fallen into a deep sleep, and, to his later mortification, Prince Nathaniel had been summoned to kiss him awake.
The saving grace of the whole incident was that Timothy remembered nothing of the kiss, only waking up to Nathaniel’s remarkable gaze fixed on him. Of course, then Timothy had humiliated himself by touching his fingers to Nathaniel’s mouth and blushing when Nathaniel had smiled in happy relief. Timothy had lurched out of bed in the next moment, landed in a heap on the floor, and then promptly been marched by his furious and worried uncle up to the tower that Timothy would call his chambers until his wedding. The last thing Timothy had seen before being led from the room had been Nathaniel watching him from where he’d still been kneeling at Timothy’s bedside.
Timothy didn’t like to think about it. By which he meant, he liked to think about it a lot, but only when alone, and never, ever in Nathaniel’s presence.
Timothy’s voice went up, too nervous, too flustered, because Nathaniel keptlookingat him. If he knew what Tim was thinking, he wouldn’t be so pleased. “You can stop being so nice about it, visiting repeatedly, sending me those letters. We both know you’re looking forward to this about as much as I am. Go back to bed with whomever it is you obviously prefer and leave me to plot our way out of this.”
Some of the warmth in Nathaniel’s eyes disappeared. “Your plots always seem to end with me. Doesn’t that concern you?” Nathaniel’s tone was almost desperate. “At all?”
Timothy waved that off with the ease of practice. “That’s just the curse rearing its ugly head.”
To this day, he didn’t know what his parents had done to anger a member of the Sneaky Folk so much that the Folk would inflict this on their son. An arranged marriage was one thing, butmagicto force it to happen, to take away what little control the children could take in the event? That was pure spite. Timothy had been foolishly smitten with Nathaniel since the age of twelve, but even with his terrible feelings, Timothy might have quietly done his duty if not for the curse. That horrible blight forever in his future, tying him to Nathaniel no matter what he did.
He looked up again at Nathaniel’s silence. “It’s probably worse for you.” Timothy hadn’t really considered that, deliberately, because thinking of Nathaniel wishing to be rid of him was the kind of painful thought to leave him moping for days. Now here he was, alone with Nathaniel in his bedroom, the cold, lonely bedroom that Nathaniel hadn’t even been using because he had somewhere he’d rather be. Timothy sighed. “I have known of the curse my every waking moment, but you grew up without it. You can remember a time when you were truly free. Well, as free as a royal can be.” There was always duty.
“Little Prin—” Nathaniel stopped himself in the middle of the nickname. “Timothy, of what curse do you speak?”
Timothy lifted his head in surprise. “The curse. Our betrothal and the fairy “gift” that came with it.” He didn’t know why Nathaniel would need this explained; he’d been there as much as Timothy had.
“There was no curse.” Nathaniel spoke slowly.
Timothy shook his head. “I read the accounts. ‘The fairy Robin’s Egg spread her wings over the babe in the cradle and the young boy-prince at his side and pronounced the words in her tongue to ensure the union between the two kingdoms, and—’”
“Yes. I was there,” Nathaniel interrupted. It was the rudest he’d ever been.
Timothy gaped at him for it, resolutelynotcharmed by the crack in Nathaniel’s perfection, before huffing and settling back in his seat. “Then you know she doomed us to each other. Not just marriage, oh no, she cursed us to this fate. You’re inescapable, like destiny. At least until we break the spell.”
“That isn’t what she said.” Nathaniel stared at Timothy for a long time without so much as blinking. “That isn’t what she saidat all.”
“Yes, it is!” Timothy’s voice cracked. “Obviously, it is. She said we werebound, and in that, our nations would find happiness. She bound us unto death. Wedding or not, I’m…” Timothy stuttered as he hadn’t since he was sixteen with his lips buzzing from a kiss he couldn’t remember. “I’m yours. You are the only one I think of ever since I first saw you. You are perfect, and I am,” he yanked the fur up to his chin and ignored his stinging face, “I am the thing you can’t escape.”
“Little Prince.” Nathaniel came forward so swiftly Timothy had no time to move away. Nathaniel frowned down at him, and then, to Timothy’s utter shock, got to his knees so Timothy had no choice but to look back at him. Nathaniel was overwhelming this close. Tim could have touched him if he wanted. Which, of course, he did. But he curled his hands into fists.
“Yes, you are perfect to me,” Timothy growled at him, “and I am a stunted, pale, reader of books who cannot joust or even ride a horse with dignity. I am appalling and rude to you when you have done nothing to deserve it. I cannot dance. And when you take me to bed, I will have no skills there, either, not like your… not like whomever you might prefer.” He dropped his head and studied Nathaniel’s throat. “It is worse than all the hells knowing I feel this and you feel nothing except duty, and we will never be able to be apart. I would have consented if not for that.”
“Timothy.” Nathaniel exhaled his name. “Little Prince. Look at me. Please. Just once, voluntarily look at me instead of acting as though I disgust you.”
It was the shaky note in his voice, a note Timothy had never heard before, which made Timothy raise his eyes. Then he went very still.
Prince Nathaniel seemed stunned, an almost feverish glow in his eyes. His mouth was open, his full lips parted. Timothy remembered touching them, and instantly, reflexively, cast his gaze safely elsewhere once again.
“There is no curse,” Nathaniel pronounced, taking his time as if he needed the words to be clear. “For years, you detested me because of an imaginary curse.” He shook his head then put his hands on either side of Timothy’s seat. Timothy’s eyes were again drawn to his. Everything in Timothy was drawn to him and always had been, always would be. It wasn’t fair.
Nathaniel shook his head again. “There was no curse. Robin’s Egg bound us because we were already meant to be. She foresaw our fates—our hearts—and spoke of them, and our families betrothed us, as they probably would have with or without a fairy gift. We were bound together unto death, but in our union our nations would find happiness. It was a blessing. A blessing.” Nathaniel’s warm tone did not last long. “Acurse? I could strangle you. Foryears,I have…”
“But. No. That isn’t…” Timothy wastoowarm now. “I read it, and then I met you, and you were… you! You don’t want me. Look at you, and then look at me and my everything!”
“I have.” Nathaniel’s nearness was affecting Timothy’s body again and, with it, Timothy’s ability to react.
