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  Also by Mary E. Twomey

  Cursed Beauty

  Beauty's Cursed Sleep

  Beauty's Cursed Beast

  Beauty's Cursed Prince

  Savage Hearts

  Savage Hearts

  Dangerous Hearts

  Twisted Hearts

  Damaged Hearts

  Wicked Hearts

  Sinfully Sacrificed

  Sins of the Father

  Sins of the Mother

  Sins of Mine: A Paranormal Prison Romance

  Territorial Mates

  Vengeful Prince

  Wicked Prince

  Malicious Prince

  Vengeful King

  Wicked King

  Malicious King

  Undraland

  Undraland

  Nokken

  Fossegrim

  Elvage

  The Other Side

  Lucy at Peace

  Lucy at War

  Lucy at Last

  Linus at Large

  Undraland Books 1-3 Bundle: Including Undraland, Nøkken and Fossegrim

  Standalone

  Liberating Mr. Gable

  Unraveling Molly

  Heart of the Woods

  Keeping Cole for Christmas

  Ugly Girl Sample

  Undraland Sample

  Watch for more at Mary E. Twomey’s site.

  Beauty’s Cursed Sleep

  Book One in the Cursed Beauty Series

  Mary E. Twomey

  Contents

  1. Rory Johnstone’s Shortened Life

  2. Rory Johnstone, the Criminal

  3. New Neighbor

  4. Robbing a Bank

  5. Terrible at Vacations

  6. Running Through the Woods

  7. Life with Cordray

  8. Cordray’s Offer

  9. Failing the Annual Exam

  10. A Failed Tutor

  11. Marrying Calvin

  12. First Date Jitters

  13. Somewhere to Hide

  14. The Generosity of Adam Fontaine

  15. The Danger of Being a Lethal

  16. Curses and Counter-Curses

  17. Caffeinated Kisses

  18. Two Pills, Two Rulers

  19. Negotiating with Calvin

  20. The Chaos and Kiss of Prince Henry

  21. Cordray and Henry

  22. Birthday Eve

  23. The Safehouse

  24. Electric

  25. Queen of the Dead

  26. A Beastly Kiss

  27. Pushing the Limits of Magic

  28. Cordray’s Plan

  29. The Evolution of Magic

  30. Unhinged Escape

  31. The Teacher and the Student

  32. The Broken Man

  33. Sleeping Beauty

  34. Vows

  Beauty’s Cursed Beast

  1. Unexpected Guest

  Other books by Mary E. Twomey

  Copyright © 2018 Tuesday Twomey

  Cover Art by Shayne Leighton

  of Parliament House Book Designs

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition: May 2018

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  * * *

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  * * *

  For information:

  http://www.maryetwomey.com

  For Saxon

  * * *

  May your dreams never be small.

  1

  Rory Johnstone’s Shortened Life

  “I don’t have a Pulse,” Rory admitted, smoothing her long, dark hair over her shoulder with a brush of her left hand. She clicked her pen three times in her right fist, as if that would make the conversation less awkward. Did she wish she could Pulse emotions or abilities into others, as everyone else in the magical community could do? Sure. But she couldn’t, so the fact that every month she had to check in with the council and report back the big news of absolutely nothing felt like a regularly scheduled stab to the chest. “Are you quite finished? I have to get back to work.”

  She glanced across the desk at her uncle, keeping their mirrored sigh inaudible so the speakerphone didn’t pick up on notes of exasperation. Frustration only fueled certain members of the council, and she didn’t want to give them any further fodder.

  The superior lilt of the man on the phone made Rory cringe. “Patience, Aurora. I’m making a note. Another month, and still no Pulse. My, my. Most of us find our Pulse by age seven. How old are you now?”

  Rory’s uncle’s upper lip curved slightly at the not-so-subtle needling that happened during these calls. He leaned back in the black leather swivel chair of his no-frills office. Though Remus was thirty-six, he glared at the phone, as if that would make the slow humiliation for his niece end sooner.

  Rory bit back the urge to tell off the Baron. He knew very well how old she was. He’d known her since she was a baby. She’d endured his insipid political jokes over and over at the Dinners of the Elite, all with a polite smile on her face. “I’m twenty-four.”

  “Four months left before Malaura’s curse is rumored to come into your life. Wouldn’t it be lovely to find your Pulse before it’s predicted to slow?”

  Rory’s uncle usually wore a breezy smile to counter his commanding office demeanor, but Rory could see the vein popping out along his temple, marking his notable stress. As much as she despised these phone calls, her failures were every bit as much a reflection on him for not producing a brightly shining star student to present to all of Avondale.

  Rory stiffened at the low blow. “I don’t believe in curses, least of all my own. You’re in your sixties, Baron,” she scolded him. “That’s old enough to put such childish superstitions behind you. Are you still putting your dentures under your pillow in hopes the tooth fairy will leave you with some spare change?”

  The Baron could dole out the insults without threat of conscience, but when it came to dealing with the family who had never cowered to him, he was left bereft of acerbic comebacks. “Young lady, it’s no wonder you’re… I can’t believe the daughter of the Chancellor would speak to me like… You’d better pray your curse doesn’t come to fruition. Being woken by true love’s kiss only works if someone can tolerate your mouth.”

  Rory’s tone was light and airy, as if she hadn’t just stepped up to the plate to play hardball with the conniving man most of the council cowered to. “Speaking of true loves, how is your son these days? I haven’t seen Calvin in a while. Tell him I’ll return his many calls soon. You know how busy life can get.”

  It was a subtle needling, but to be fair, the Baron had started it.

  Rory’s uncle took hold of the conversation before it spiraled out of control. “Is that all, Baron?”

  “For now. Remus, you are without a doubt, the most disappointing tutor I’ve ever met. Your pupil has made absolutely no progress, and…”

  Remus put the receiver back in its cradle, sniggering at Rory’s gasp at the outright defiance. “Oh, he’s going to be mad you hung up on him.”

  “No more angry than he’ll be that Calvin is still calling you all the time. Can you imagine the scandal? The Baron’s son hooking up with a girl who doesn’t have a Pulse.” He shook his head and tsked her. “What would the neighbors say?” His upper lip pulled i
n disgust once more. Remus slid a stack of papers into a folder, turning his focus back to the work at-hand.

  Guilt and shame washed through Rory, as they always did after these monthly phone calls. “You’re a wonderful tutor, Remus. The Baron was out of line, criticizing you like that.”

  Remus nodded, offering up a seemingly unaffected smile at his niece. He rolled his broad shoulders and brushed his hand down his green tie, which turned blue after one swipe – a thing he often did when he was thinking things he wouldn’t say aloud. “I know. And you’re an excellent student. Some things just weren’t meant to be, and we’re not going to waste our time beating ourselves up about it all. Understood?”

  Rory’s head bobbed, but she clicked her pen three times, as she often did when she felt unsettled in irreparable ways. She didn’t speak, but rather internalized everything, tucking the Baron’s icy words in her heart for use in future self-flagellation.

  “Hey, chin up. Where are you? You’re going to a bad place in your mind.”

  She bit down on her plump lower lip. “Honestly? I’m worried about the annual exam at the end of the month. I’m supposed to be able to levitate a teacup by then, but it’s been too many years of failing the test. Why do they put me through the humiliation every year? They wouldn’t care as much if I wasn’t the Chancellor’s daughter. They’d let me be a Deadpulse, and be done with it.” Then she hung her head, her lean shoulders drooping. “I can’t even levitate a teacup. Totally embarrassing. There are grade school children who can make teacups and their saucers lift off the table, the teacups filled to the brim without spilling a drop.”

  “A totally useful skill for work at a Foundation,” Remus simpered not unkindly. “Your Pulse will come when it comes.” He was only twelve years older than her, and the two shared more of a big-brother-little-sister relationship than anything else – comforting and challenging each other as needed.

  “And if it doesn’t?” Her eyes flicked to his, revealing a portion of the raw underbelly she tried never to expose in mixed company. “If my biggest dream never comes true?”

  Remus raised his chin, in hopes that someday his niece wouldn’t have to work so hard to keep her own chin lifted. “This is your biggest dream?” He pointed to the pen on his desk, and with barely any effort at all, it raised up, as if giving itself to him as an offering of subservience. Then the pen collapsed back onto the desk, bereft of the magic that had bewitched it into motion. Remus’ eyebrows pushed together in frustration. “Your dreams are small. I can’t imagine anything more tragic than tiny, attainable dreams.”

  “Tiny and attainable to you. Everest for me.” Rory balled her feet up inside of her shoes. She fiddled with the hem of her gray blouse as her mind drifted to the melancholy that always came after these phone calls. Her blouse had a layer of black lace underneath that flared at her hips, and trembled when she was busy hating herself. Her black trousers were wrinkle-free, and her sensible shoes clacked nervously as her knees bobbed up and down. She’d been in meetings all day, but this one phone call grated on her nerves like nothing else could.

  “The investors for the playground need to be contacted this week. Is that on my list or yours?”

  “Mine.” Rory rifled through the stack of papers to find the to-do list she’d lost in the sea of documents. “I’m not thrilled on the commitment from Davin Industrial. They’re giving less to the Foundation than they did last year, but asking for more business from us.”

  “They’re capitalists, Rory. That’s usually the way of things. But you’re right, I didn’t anticipate them pledging less. I’ll follow up.”

  “Okay. I’ll lean on the Literacy Fellowship to get us their recommended curriculum for next year. They were supposed to have that submitted to us already.”

  “Francesca was supposed to handle that. The point of having an assistant is that you don’t have to do everything.”

  “She tried, but here we are.” Synching their busy schedules took so long that Rory grew frustrated. “Do you think we work too much?”

  Remus offered up a perfunctory laugh. “I think if we didn’t, Avondale wouldn’t have the things and rights it needs to thrive. You’ve got the four-thirty staff meeting, right?”

  “I’ll be five minutes late. I’ve got that interview with Royal Watch for their piece on me – The Last Days of Aurora Johnstone.” Her jaw stiffened every time the title of the countdown article came across her schedule.

  Rory wondered when the last time it was that it mattered if she thrived. She recalled the steps that led her to spending her Sundays rifling through papers and contracts with her uncle, and couldn’t justify the mess that had grown so out of control that she couldn’t grant herself a day off. Her lunch hour had been spent gritting her teeth through the Baron’s needling. The last thing she wanted to do was sit down with the national publication and talk about how she was spending her last months serving Avondale.

  But she was the future Chancellor, so a luxury such as privacy wasn’t something the world was concerned with granting her.

  “Rory?” Remus called his niece again, but Rory’s mind was far, far away from the office where she’d spent most of her adulthood. The walls of the tall building that was always bustling with activity usually gave her a steady dose of comfort, but now it felt like a coffin.

  She’d never gone skydiving.

  She’d never even had a vacation by herself.

  She’d never… So many things had been put on hold so she could focus on her goal that had always burned white-hot in her chest – make the greatest impact on the world in the short time she was given. Most people didn’t know their expiration date, but Rory’s had been widely publicized, thanks to the curse she’d received at birth.

  The Baron had been right on one thing – there was a timeclock on her days, and it was quickly running out. She’d done all she could to make sure Avondale thrived in her absence when her curse came into effect, while sacrificing perhaps too much of herself.

  Remus was right; she’d made her dreams small, so she could fulfill the dreams of others by granting them funding and education through her Foundation. Her life would be put on a permanent pause soon. With the Baron’s words still ringing in her ears, she realized she didn’t want her life to stop, having never lived it.

  “Rory? Are you alright?”

  Rory tugged her hair behind her ear and blinked the world around her back into focus with panic lining her eyes.

  This wasn’t right. How had she ever thought this was a solid life plan? Seventy-hour workweeks ensured she accomplished a lot, but it left her with a hollowness that seemed to be growing larger the closer she got to her twenty-fifth birthday.

  She didn’t have all the details worked out, but she knew she couldn’t continue on another second, keeping things as they were. She moved toward the door with sudden purpose. “Uncle Remus? I think I need to step away.”

  Though she realized Remus most likely assumed she was going to get some air, Rory knew her feet wouldn’t be satisfied until they were running far, far away from the life that used to be her own.

  2

  Rory Johnstone, the Criminal

  “If only I had a Pulse, breaking and entering would be so much easier.”

  The teasing voice on the other end of the line tsked her, as if he could see her tripping over the errant roots along the path behind the log cabin. “My, my. Rory Johnstone, what a devious little minx you are.”

  “If my Pulse was Sweetness, I could cajole the nearest locksmith and get myself inside with a simple touch. Or if my Pulse was Persuasion. But no.”

  “Your problem isn’t that you were born a Deadpulse, but that you ran away without securing the key from me first.”

  “You sure you can’t meet me up here? Come on, Henry. The last time the three of us went on vacation was how many years ago? Three? Four? That’s shameful.” The bottom of Rory’s black ballet flats were sticky from pine tree sap, but that didn’t dampen her spirits. She wa
s determined to make the most of her getaway. It was only a matter of time before her guard tracked her down and brought her back home.

  “I don’t think I can persuade Adam to leave his castle, and sadly, I have actual princely duties to tend to.”

  “Because you’re so very important?” she mocked him with a smile as she climbed the steps onto the dark wood stained deck, plopping her backpack down on the picnic table.

  “You joke, but yes. One day when my father hands down his crown to me, and your father hands down his seat on the head of the council to you, then it’ll be you and me ruling Avondale. One of us has to be the responsible adult today. As you’re the one ditching your guard and running through the woods toward a cabin without a key, I guess that’ll have to be me.”

  Rory balked, flipping her straight black hair over her shoulder. “You know that’s usually me! You told me this was a good idea. You’re the one who agreed that I was working too much, and needed a break.”

  “Ah, that’s right. I’m so wise. But did I tell you to run off without the key?”

  Rory grumbled as she cupped her hands on either side of her face, peering in through the cabin window. “Who doesn’t keep a spare key lying around?”