Page 26 of Not Another Happily Ever After

A shy smile breaks free from where my teeth have bitten into it, and I chuckle. A small, almost unnoticeable noise at first, but as the seconds tick by, I’m pulled into a gale of laughter.

I don’t know if it’s the nerves or the strange tickling in my belly, but whatever it is has me doubling over.

“I’m sorry,” I wheeze, trying and failing to compose myself. “I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”

“No. You can’t,” he whispers. When his dark brows raise a hair at the fall of my features, I’m not sure I was meant to hear it.

What does that make—three times tonight that I’ve acted out of accord?Well. It’s nice to know that if this marriage doesn’t kill me, humiliation is sure to do the trick.

Frog spots the disappointment rolling through my shoulders before they even drop. “That’s not—I didn’t mean that I—” he stutters, when a violent scream shatters the already crumbling moment.

Like metal striking against stone, it pierces the night air, louder and louder until suddenly…it stops.

“What in the realm was that?” I ask, stepping toward the wet sound of pained cries.

Frog cuts me off. “Get back inside. Please,” he gently orders. Or was he asking? Honestly, it sounded more like a suggestion.

I know I should obey, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m right where I’m meant to be. I might not be a knight or pontiff, but I’ve spent enough time with Gally to know a few things about mending. And by the sounds of it, knowing even a little could make a difference right now.

My mind made up, I move to step around him, but he cuts me off, blocking my every move before I can make it. Trapping us in a dance I swear we’ve done before.

“Miss Sunday.”

That name.I cock my head, eyes searching. Only one person has ever called me that.

“Do I?—”

“Yes,” he blurts before the question can fully form on my lips.

“Yes?”I blink, heart pounding in my chest.

“Yes. You do…” he answers softly, lowering his gaze as though afraid of what I might see in it.

I step closer, like a moth drawn to a flame. I reach for the warmth of a distant memory, of a friend whose presence felt much the same. Could it be?

“Are you?—”

“Frightened.”

“Frightened?” A pit opens in my stomach as I slowly realize he’s not referring to the screams. “Oh.” I breathe, staggering back a step. “I see.”

Frog draws in a breath like he’s about to say more, but this time it’s me who turns away.

“You should go.” I urge.

With my back toward him, I wait until I can no longer hear the gravel crunch beneath his feet as they walk away, leaving me to confront a truth I’ve tried to avoid.

It isn’t the rot, the ruin, or even the revenge of an evil queen that haunts my people’s dreams.

It’s me.

Chapter

9

Don’t let her see.

God, please don’t let her see.