Chapter 210

Ella’s POV

“It’s okay to enjoy things like this, you know. It’s okay to be happy, even when you don’t feel like it.”

Anya, astute as always, glanced at me over the mountain of fabric samples and baskets of beads. Her eyes met mine, filled with the same hope and happiness that I wished I could feel.

“That obvious, huh?” I sighed and set aside the swatch of cream-colored fabric I’d been running between my fingers and put it in the “no” pile. It was too rough for my tastes.

Anya tilted her head and reached for another swatch of champagne silk. “You look sad. Haunted. Not at all like the blushing bride you’re about to be.”

I wished I could tell her exactly what had me feeling so haunted—I wished I could tell her about the curse, about Alexander’s illness, about Liam’s coma that had been caused by me. I wanted to tell her about all of it. I wanted to open up and seek comfort in a friend.

But I couldn’t. And if I could, well, then there would be nothing to be sad about, would there?

Julie’s visit, during which she had told us that the curse would manifest in the form of tuberculosis in Alexander, had occurred last night, and I hadn’t slept a wink since then. The exhaustion probably wasn’t helping any, but sleep was eluding me despite my best efforts—even the familiar comfort of Alexander’s arms around me wasn’t enough to soothe my frayed nerves.

Especially not when I heard that awful rattling sound whenever he drew in a particularly deep inhale during sleep.

I feared to even shut my eyes for a moment, in case he wouldn’t suddenly stop breathing entirely.

He was at the doctor’s office right now, getting his symptoms looked at. He had assured me that he really felt fine earlier when he left, but it didn’t make me feel any better. There was no telling exactly how far his illness had progressed already. And no telling if his wolf would put him in stasis like Liam to keep him alive if things got really bad.

Well, at least I knew that the curse wouldn’t make him get hit by a truck or something. It seemed, when the curse made its choice as to how it would manifest, the decision would be set in stone.

Not that that would stop fate itself from taking him. But it was something, right?

Anya was still staring at me, so I shook my head and forced a smile. “I’d tell you if I could, you know.”

To my relief, Anya nodded, understanding crossing her features. “Of course. I just want you to know that I’m here for support if you need it. Or a distraction.” She held up the champagne silk. “How about this one?”

I reached out and took the fabric, running it over my palms. It was smooth and cool to the touch, like liquid pooling across my lap. I smiled as I held it up to the light and saw the way the sun just barely filtered through it, making it appear even more golden.

“Let’s do this one. I like the way it catches the light,” I said, making my decision. “I think the color is brilliant, like the sun.” And it was, too; it felt nice to have a bit of warmth surrounding me during this dark, cold time.

Anya smiled warmly. “It’s a good color. It’ll stand out amongst all the other cool tones you picked for the wedding.” She carefully rolled the fabric up and stood. “I’ll get to work on the rough draft tonight. In a couple of days, you can try it on!”

A couple of days. Just a couple of days until Anya—bless her kind heart—would make the first iteration of the dress she’d promised to make for the wedding that was originally supposed to be hers. I’d asked her to keep it simple, not wanting her to go too overboard, but I knew she’d stay up late every night to make it perfect anyway.

I knew she was just happy to be making the dress at all; she’d been so upset when the wedding planner told her not to make her own before.

But still, how could I ever repay her, I wondered, for everything she was doing for me?

I could repay her by breaking this damn curse—so we could actually enjoy the wedding. And so I could tell her everything, tell her all of the truths I’d been holding back, prove to her that she’d done so much more than simply give a wedding to a friend.

I just hoped that breaking the curse was a possibility. That Julie would find Margaret and everything could be resolved.

Later that evening, I slipped into Alexander’s room just as I had for so many nights now, without being seen. Alexander was waiting for me in bed as usual and lifted the covers, beckoning for me to curl up with him.

I slipped in between the sheets and curled myself against him, savoring his warmth.

“Well?” I asked as he settled the blankets around us. “What did the doctor say?”

“I’m starting a course of antibiotics,” Alexander replied. Turning onto his side, he tucked me closer against his body and nestled his chin into the crook of my neck from behind. “The symptoms aren’t too serious yet.”

“Good. That’s good.” Maybe this illness would be slow, giving us enough time to find and burn the artifacts before the curse took him. Before it took Liam.

Alexander was just opening his mouth to say something else when a sudden scream cut through the night.

We both jolted upright, staring at each other in shock. Somehow, I recognized that scream as Anya’s right away; I’d know her high voice anywhere, even when it was ripping through the house like a siren.

Without hesitating, we bolted out of bed and toward the sound. Anya was still screaming, causing other staff to come out of their rooms and look around in confusion. If anyone noticed that Alexander and I were together, they didn’t seem to think twice about it.

When we burst into Anya’s room, my mouth dropped open at the scene I found. Anya threw herself into my arms, pointing with a trembling finger at the figure standing in the center of the room, dressed in all black.

Sophia.

With what looked like a bucket of black paint in her hands.

Sophia was frozen like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and full of horror as she realized she’d been caught. The moment Alexander stepped forward, she dropped the bucket, splashing black paint all across the floor, and dropped to her knees with her hands held up over her head.

“I’m sorry!” she cried out. “It was just supposed to be a prank!”

“A prank.” Alexander leveled her with a cold stare as two warriors burst into the room, weapons drawn. “What exactly were you planning to do, Sophia?”

Sophia’s throat bobbed, eyes darting between the three of us, then to the warriors.

For the first time, it seemed that Sophia had been well and truly caught red-handed. Or black-handed, in this instance.

Realizing that she had no excuse, she whispered, “I was going to ruin her wedding dress.”

Anya gasped, glancing at the dress hanging on the back of the closet door; the one she’d picked out before, which would now not be used.

Just like everyone else, Sophia still thought Anya and Alexander were getting married. Which meant that, yet again, she’d attempted to sabotage Anya—just like she’d sabotaged me so many times before.

As I watched the warriors handcuff Sophia and take her away for questioning, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of sick satisfaction. She’d gone after me too many times, but she had truly gone after the wrong girl now.

She wouldn’t get away with this behavior anymore.

And judging from the fiery look in Alexander’s eyes, he wouldn’t let her, either.