ᴄᴜʀѕᴇᴅ [ᴀᴜᴛᴏᴩʟᴀy]

You can never go back to a moment when you were happy.

Char saw me. Over the shoulder of his partner, he mouthed, "Wait for me." I grew roots. An earthquake could not have moved me. The clock struck a quarter before eleven. It struck eleven. If it had struck the end of the world, I'd have stayed as I was.

Over all the others I was his choice (to dance)! I curtsied, and he took my hand. Our hands knew each other.

He bent his head. I loved the hairs on the nape of his neck. He moved his lips. I admired their changing shape. He clasped a hand. I blessed his fingers.

My heart was still broken. I would see Char and it would mend. I'd leave him and it would break again. There were three balls. It would break three times.

There was more. In addition to minx, he called me a flirt, harpy, siren, enchantress, temptress, and even monster.

"If you'd put yourself first and married the prince, someone would have come along to harm him and Kyrria, sure as cabbages. You're a heroine, Sweet." "I'd rather be his wife."

In the middle of the night, I awoke, my happiness draining away. I wouldn't escape the curse by marrying Char. I would be more cursed than ever. And he would be cursed, too.

You like me. You wouldn't waste time and paper on a being you didn't like. But I think I've loved you since we met at your mother's funeral. I want to be with you forever and a day, but you write that you are too young to marry or too old or too short or too hungry -- until I crumple your letters up in despair, only to smooth them out again for a twelfth reading, hunting for hidden meaning. What a beautiful bride you'll be, whomever you marry at whatever age. And what a queen if I am the man! Who has your grave? Your expression? Your voice? I could extol your virtues endlessly, but I want you to finish reading and answer me quickly. Love (it is such a relief to pen the word!), love, love--- Char.

Mandy says there are two sorts of people in the world: those who blame everyone else and those who blame only themselves. I place myself in a third category: among those who know where blame really lies.

With each of his letters I fell more in love with him.

"Be happy to be blessed with such a lovely quality (obedience)." I knew I was happy only because I'd been ordered to be, but the happiness was absolute. I still understood why I had always hated Lucinda's gift. But I was glad nonetheless. I imagined future commands, ones that would kill me, and I glowed at the idea of obeying them.

Hattie says Ella was bad to leeve but I think she was bad to not tak me to. Ella did everything Hattie toled her to. I wish peepul did wut I want. Its not fare.  Yoar mizrubbel dawter, Olive.

"He laughed more in a morning with you than in two weeks with us.