There was no curse, no dark clouds.

I had lived a fairy tale, where for a moment a royal gardener’s daughter was no longer stuck behind garden walls, and foxes turned into princes, and I said without thinking, “I think I love you, Fox.”

He stumbled on his feet. A blush ate up his cheeks. “Wh-what?”

“I think I love you.”

He stared at me, and the part of his brain that he had sectioned off for dance had died, because we were just standing now in the middle of the crowd of people, and he had this awestruck look on his face. “You . . . you what?”

People were beginning to stare. “I mean, you don’t have to make a scene if you don’t feel the same—”

“You too,” he quickly fumbled, and winced. My hopes began to rise like morning mists in the valley. “I mean I yes—no, that’s not right. You think you love me—I love that you—what I mean is—”

I stood up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his to save him the embarrassment, and he melted into me, relieved that I understood what he meant. He smelled like fresh oak trees and spring rain, and as I curled my fingers into his hair he nibbled at my lip, exploring, tempting. My heart thumped in my chest like a jackrabbit, so bright and hopeful it hurt, and when we finally broke apart, he asked, breathless, “How do you feel about foxes?”

“I love foxes. Even the thieving, sly ones. How do you feel about gardeners?”

“I love one in particular,” he replied, and twined his fingers into mine.

I grinned. “Do you want to go?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

He blinked in surprise. “Now?”

“Now,” I whispered, and led him toward the archway draped in thawing honeysuckle vines, away from the garden I had always known. I glanced one last time at Papa, who watched me from the dessert table and raised his glass to me. Wander, he mouthed, and smiled the kind of goodbye that had good luck tucked into the corners.

The night was fresh, and the new spring winds blew warm and sweet, and like a dandelion tuft caught on a breeze, I let go of the girl I used to be and led Fox into the Wilds.

THE END