Once Upon a Curse by Anna Kashina

Author:Anna Kashina [Kashina, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Fiction, Fairy Tales
ISBN: 9780983832065
Publisher: Dragonwell
Published: 2012-12-21T05:00:00+00:00

The next morning she woke with a headache and lay still, eyes shut against the sunlight that turned red as it came through the curtains. Clym liked red. To her, though, it seemed the wrong color for curtains. Curtains should be pale gold, leaf green, letting through dappled light that moved like sunspots on water…

She felt her thoughts pause. Where had that image—huge trees filtering the sunlight, a wide milk-calm lake—come from? Nowhere in the city, where she’d lived her whole life—

And at that she paused again, stuttered as if she’d met a break in the track of her thoughts. My whole life? But where was I before I married Clym?

“Wake up, baby.”

She eased her eyes open. Clym stood, a shadow against the sunlit curtains, holding a tray. She moved to prop herself up on her elbows, trying to clear her mind of the weird jumble of thoughts that made no sense.

“I don’t think I should have had those other glasses of wine,” she said. “I feel like death.”

Clym laughed, setting the tray down on the bedside table. “Baby doll, a few glasses of wine won’t have done you any harm. Like I said, you needed it after cutting your thumb so badly. Now, you need a good breakfast, that’s all. Sit up.”

She wriggled up to lean against the bank of huge, marsh-mallow-soft pillows. Clym passed her a mug of tea—gentle, pale brown, with plenty of milk. The scent of honey drifted up with the steam and she breathed it in.

“Oh, that’s heaven. Thank you.”

“Here.” He moved the tray over onto her duvet-covered lap. “Chilled melon slices. And—you need protein—scrambled eggs on toast.”

He sat on the bed next to her, moving carefully so as not to tip the tray. She bit into the melon slice and cold, sweet juice filled her mouth. Its fragrance seemed to travel up through the roof of her mouth into her head, clearing it of the ache, smoothing the jagged tracks of her thoughts.

Clym had cut the thick slices of white toast into fingers, golden with a shimmer of butter. He leaned forward to put one into her mouth and it crunched deliciously between her teeth.

“Last night,” she said. “I don’t know why I took my shoes off. Are you still angry?”

“No, baby. I know you didn’t mean to worry me. Just”—he leaned forward, brushed a kiss over her nose—“be more careful next time, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled at him, feeling warm, relaxed, floating on the pillows as if they were clouds. She reached for the fork and his hand came down on hers, stopping her. She blinked at him. “Hey, I need protein, remember?”

He laughed. “I’ll feed you, sweetheart. Here, open wide.”

She really wanted to feed herself. She was hungry now, and he was clumsy, and buttery crumbs and bits of egg got spilled on the crimson satin duvet cover. But it was worth it, to know he wasn’t angry with her, that he’d forgiven her. And while he was with her, laughing, spooning eggs

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