Page 61 of Not Another Happily Ever After

Frog notices immediately.

“What is it?” he asks, his gaze darkening as he looks off into the surrounding forest.

But I don’t answer.

I can’t.

Because something, somewhere is calling me by name.

Chapter

23

She fears her mind has betrayed her.

If only she knew it is the only

good thing this realm has left.

“Did you hear that?” I ask, pushing my way through the brittle remains of an old willow’s curtains in search of the song’s source.

Frog gives a subtle shake of his head but falls in step behind me all the same, giving me the space I need to make sense of the nonsensical—a task I fear may only become harder as the days go on. With the pale blue of my fingers now spreading to my chest, it’s becoming more evident time is not on my side.And neither is sanity, apparently.

I’m about to turn around, to suggest we go back, when the melody picks up again. Louder than before.

I stop, tilting my head toward the chiming sound. What’s coming will only keep coming, whether I hurry or hide. I might as well embrace the madness now.Even if it means chasing a melody only I can hear.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, sneaking a look over my shoulder at Frog. He is scanning the crimson rose-covered trees for any sign of a threat. Do I tell him not to worry? Not to waste his breath?

Yes, because telling people that you’re dying is the best way to make friends. And while you’re at it, mention that you have inexplicable feelings for him but that you know it could never work because you’re to be engaged to the not-so-charming prince. And he is the one who took a vow to deliver you to him.

“Miss Sunday?”

I startle at Frog’s touch and he withdraws his hand so quickly I fear he might have broken it.

“Oh, I…” My hand reaches back out for his before I think better of it, letting it fall back to my side. “I’m sorry. I was…”Not thinking about you at all.“Just getting my bearings together.”

Frog doesn’t look the least bit convinced, but he doesn’t argue or protest when I turn to keep walking. He simply falls back in line and together we continue through the Disenchanted Forest until the melody is all I can hear.

We pass a few glorious briar brakes, their bark scarred by magic’s long abandoned touch, but they aren’t the reason my heart’s forgotten its own rhythm. For sitting just beyond them, tucked away in a small moonlit grove, is a well. Its aged white stones have been forgotten by more than just the realm’s people.

And yet, it remembers their voices all the same.

“It’s here. The music. Can’t you hear it?” I ask in quiet wonder as the melody, thin as mist hums all around me. Through me.

“You…the hour is late, Miss Sunday. Perhaps we should head back?” Frog points out, but even the magnetic timbre of his voice isn’t enough to pull me away. Not when the very fibers of my soul are being asked to remember a story I was never told.

I step closer, eyeing the pink weather-worn roof. Crystals hang from the dried-up ivy, dancing without sparkle, their shimmer and shine lost in the absence of the sun. Just beneath them, an old bucket sways from side to side,rather aggressively for there not being any wind…

I take another step closer, peeking over the well’s cobblestone ledge.

“Miss Sunday, the others. They’re probably?—”

“Climbing out of a well?” I ask as two knights with copper-toned hair ascend the last few stones of the waterhole’s mouth. Both their smiles fade when they see us.

“I can explain!” Merrek offers, landing on his feet with athud,while his more mild-mannered brother opts for a toes first approach.

“Explain why you both were in a magical singing well?” I fold my arms the way Rhidland used to do when he knew I was lying, hoping the gesture might inspire some truth.