Cursed (Gilded, #2)

by Marissa Meyer

She often thought he seemed unreal in the daylight. The Alder King was the sort of being that ought to be cast always in shadow. Whose portrait could only be captured in charcoal and the blackest of inks. Whose countenance might inspire poetry, but it would be poetry filled with words like melancholia and sepulchral and bereft.

And everything he didn’t do left Serilda boiling over with a yearning she’d spent the past months shoving deep, deep down into herself.

“Come,” said the Erlking, rising to his feet and extending a hand toward her. “I can see you are intrigued. I will show you.” “Er—no. Thank you. I’m quite content here, with my poetry and fairy tales.” He drew a step closer. “Are you reading fairy tales, miller’s daughter? Or are you living one?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, mocking her words to him in the dungeon. “It is only the gates to the land of the lost. What are you afraid will happen?” She glared at him. Then, with a long inhale, she took his hand.

She squared her shoulders. “Fine. But if I see any opportunity to shove you into a pit you can’t crawl out of, believe me, I will be taking it.”