TWENTY-FIVE
"Oh no!" The feminine wail woke Philemon from what had been a sound sleep.
He scrambled out of the covers and blinked in the blazing sun. He'd missed the dawn, this time. Possibly because the blankets on Anahita's bed had blocked it out. "What is it?" he mumbled, wishing his mouth didn't taste like the inside of someone else's sweaty sandal. He'd drunk too much wine last night.
"The curse didn't break!" Already on her knees, she stretched her hands out to Philemon, and he stepped onto them without thinking.
"No," he agreed. He hadn't the heart to break it to her that the only kisses capable of breaking curses came from princesses, and this desert girl wasn't capable of fooling a curse into believing she was royalty when she wasn't. Besides, the witch had said something a
