Page 2 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

“Who needs love when I can have adventures instead?” She picked up her sword and sheathed it, winding the leather braid around the scabbard. “But it would seem our epic duel is finished for today. Come, let us conjure some lunch. I am famished.”

“Your best idea today,” replied Colette, sheathing her weapon, too. “We can’t fight in this heat, honestly.”

Amelie draped her arm over her sister’s shoulders as they strolled across the courtyard. “Be sure to mention that to anyone who attacks you on a hot day. They will leave you right alone.”

The cottage interior was cool, and the sisters blinked to adjust to the gentler light of the small kitchen. Amelie sliced rye bread while Colette fetched a hunk of cheese from the larder. They completed the simple meal with fresh figs and wild blackberries, which grew in unruly bushes along the trail leading to the village.

Amelie and Colette had worked tirelessly to maintain the property while Raphael and Marcel were away these past months. The sisters spent their days collecting fruit from the grove, eggs from the chickens, and baking loaves of bread to take to the markets.

Each Sunday, they’d wheel their wares on a hand-drawn cart into the village, where they’d trade with their neighbors for necessities. Fresh seasonal vegetables, milk from old Philomene’s goats, and lumps of coal for the stove were always available. If they needed medicine, tools, or cloth, they’d take a few coppers from the little tin box hidden beneath the kitchen floorboards.

“Do you have memories of Mama and Papa together?” asked Colette, sitting at the scrubbed wooden table. She set out plates while Amelie poured homemade lemonade from a jug. “I only recall flashes,” she continued. “Mama laughing. She had a wonderful laugh, didn’t she? Like music. And Papa dancing with her at the summer solstice. They were in love, were they not? True love?”

Amelie arranged a slice of cheese and some berries on her bread. “I was only young myself when Mama passed. But yes, they had a rare and true love, I believe. Papa never remarried nor even tried, which I believe says a lot. He never fully recovered from her death.”

“He always seemed sad beneath any happiness,” said Colette with a slight frown. “His lips would smile, but his eyes were ocean-deep pools. As if even the most joyous moments had a stain on them.”

Amelie bowed her head. “That in itself is a kind of death, I believe. Poor Papa.”

“Still, he loved, did he not? I’d wager my best dress he wouldn’t have taken it back for anything. We should all be so lucky, to know a love worth the sorrow its absence creates.”

“Very true.” Amelie sipped her lemonade. “Love is a bittersweet and backhanded blessing, at best.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Colette shook her head in exasperation. “Think how magical it would be to encounter a heart that matches the emanations of your own.”

“Well, I wish you all the luck in the world, in that regard. I doubt I’ll experience such a thing in this lifetime.”

Amelie’s heart twinged anew. She was keenly aware that her vivid imagination and passion for knowledge rendered her less than ideal in the eyes of many men. It was a lesson she’d learned the hard way.

Last Yule, at the village banquet, she’d been introduced to a handsome man named Frederick, who was visiting relatives nearby. At first, he was enchanted by Amelie, feasting on her with his eyes like she was fair ambrosia. He brought her cups of mulled wine and described his journeys to faraway kingdoms. The townspeople watched and murmured with delight at the perfect union materializing before them.

As the evening wound down, the pair sat together at the edge of the dance floor, talking animatedly. Perhaps it was the wine or the festive atmosphere, but Amelie spoke more freely than she’d ever dared with a man.

On the topic of books, she shared her favorite titles and authors. When he mentioned the wide breadth of his studies, she became excited, believing they would have endless intriguing conversations.

Then, he interjected with a thought of his own and Amelie’s newfound joy evaporated.

“I am glad you found a way to occupy yourself as a rural maiden—with a book or two,” he’d said. “I find it charming. You’ll be relieved when you have a husband and household to fill your days with, no? A more suitable focus for your energy.”

He’d spoken as if his words were not only humorous, but rooted in irrefutable logic. To hide her discomfort, Amelie chuckled along with him, but the spell had been well and truly broken. Frederick was searching for a particular woman, and this woman ought not to wish for any adventures or scintillating conversations.

At the night’s end, she’d departed the banquet in low spirits, dwelling on the cruel fact that reality seldom lived up to the worlds she explored in books.

“Why the sudden interest in true love?” she asked Colette while they cleared away the remains of their lunch. “Has someone caught your fancy?”

Colette’s cheeks reddened as she dusted her hands over the ceramic sink. She glanced sideways at her sister. “Do you know Laughlin?”

Amelie cocked an eyebrow. “The only Laughlin I know of is the surly huntsman who appears in the village every so often with new wares, then disappears for many moons. He has begun courting you? Now, how have you kept this a secret?”

“There is no secret to keep! Last Saturday at the markets, while you were helping Philomene with her stall, Laughlin started a conversation with me. His family is from Ennisfall, you know. That’s why he travels a lot.”

“And?”

“And what?” said Colette primly. “There is no and. We had a conversation.”

Amelie remained silent, a knowing smile dancing on her lips. Sure enough, Colette was unable to contain herself.

“Oh, Amelie, he is so handsome,” she said in a rush. “He’s a real gentleman and he asked me the loveliest questions and I want to get to know him better, but I don’t know how. I don’t even know if he’s still in the village or if he is betrothed to someone else, but I assume not, going by his interest in me. Although, what if I misjudged his interest?” She drew a breath. “What should I do?”

---