The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,128
disgusting. I tie his gifted heart to my belt to put on full display. We earn some interesting looks as we make our way through the Great Hall’s foyer.
“I didn’t realize they made men’s pants in buttercup yellow,” I admire with a small laugh.
“They don’t. Had these custom-tailored, just for you. So worth it.” He squeezes my hand. “I have to admit, I was excited about the role-reversal idea. I mean, it sorta fits. You can punch better than me.”
“You did a pretty good job breaking Brendan’s face,” I say loud enough for Brendan to overhear.
“He didn’t even break my nose,” Brendan scoffs. “You’ve hit me harder.”
“Because I hate you more.”
Ashton cackles so loud it causes others around us to turn in our direction. She holds the feathers in front of her face, but it doesn’t cut off the laugh.
“I greatly appreciate your support, thanks,” Brendan mutters to her.
“What? She’s funny,” she defends weakly. “You are my favorite people, and the love you have for each other hurts.” She laughs again but not quite as loud.
I look up at Grant when a chuckle escapes.
“Sorry, the two of you are pretty entertaining when you’re not trying to beat the crap out of him.” After a second, he corrects, “No, even then you are.”
I roll my eyes at both of them.
Glancing over my shoulder, I ask, “So how will you know when the monster arrives?”
“I love this code name,” Ashton blurts. “It’s so diabolically perfect.”
“I have an alert on my phone,” he explains, ignoring Ashton.
“And they won’t detect your phone?” I ask, having been paranoid this entire time to turn on the phone he set up for me while I was on campus.
“I’m tied into Blackwood’s network. They won’t notice with this many people. Don’t worry; I know what I’m doing.” Before I can open my mouth with a biting reply, he says, “Don’t say it.”
It takes us another twenty minutes to reach the Court because they announce each couple as they enter. The first space we encounter has been designed with a dance floor inspired by Cinderella. Clear, glass-looking tables tucked within scrolling gold-wired pumpkins surround the glowing dance floor. The floor looks like panes of glass. And above it, fiber-optic lights shoot across the space from suspended star-tipped wands.
“Holy shit,” I utter.
“And this is only the dance floor,” Ashton says as if to warn me. “We haven’t even gone inside the Court.”
“Before you get all swept away in this, we have to remember what tonight’s really about. Let’s find—”
Ashton cuts him off before he can start dictating princely commands, “No, we’re here to have fun, Brendan. The monster hasn’t arrived yet, and until he does, I’m going to enjoy every second of this night with my friends and you, my nefarious prince.” She plants a kiss on his lips that forces me to look away when it lingers a little too long.
Brendan’s tension releases with an exhaled breath of longing. “Okay. We’ll have fun—until we can’t.” He examines his phone strapped to his forearm under his loose sleeve. “They’re this way.”
Everyone is seated at a table on the outskirts of the dining hall lawn. The table is round with swords embedded in it like spokes on a wheel.
Lance and Kaely are conveniently getting drinks while Brendan examines and adjusts the positions of our cameras. And then … we wait by having fun. So much fun. We wander the Court and come upon gardens inspired by Grimm and Andersen. Others with movie themes—oddly, mostly from the ’80s. Guess there was a big fantasy kick back then. And then there are more obscure references that hint at darker tales, usually having to do with fae.
Performers scamper through the gardens, depicting characters from their stories. I’m thoroughly entertained when we come upon the Mad Hatter’s tea party. We graze on sweets set on tables around the perimeter while watching the madness of switching seats and pouring cup after cup of tea that no one drinks.
“Such a shame,” Arden sighs, watching a cup tip and soak into the grass.
“If they had your tea, it wouldn’t be wasted,” I assure her. “Unless it’s the one that tastes like lawn clippings.”
She laughs.
We break off in small groups, promising to meet back at the dance floor at a certain time.
When we enter a garden that looks like a ship is bursting through the hedges, about to careen into a fountain filled with mermaids, I spot Sophia for the first time all