CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The wooden dummy stared with accusing eyes. You shouldn't be here, it said. You don't belong. A curse does not a protector make.
Crossover. Jab. Jab. Lunge. kick. That would teach it. Etta wiped the sweat from her brow as the sun beat down on the top of her head. She should've stopped already. She was dressed for the ceremony and sweat-soaked hair wasn’t anyone's idea of acceptable. She ran a hand over her high ponytail. The golden ends brushed against her lower back.
Freedom. Her few last hours. Soon she'd be even more tied to the prince than she already was. The curse would be fulfilled. She was prepared, but it didn't mean she liked it.
She jumped, twisting to the right, and delivered a hard kick to the abdomen of her dummy. There. That was enough. She wiped her fac
