Page 28 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

As he’d feared, several drams of potion and herb were newly missing. She’d taken an array of possible cures for fever, as well as pain voids and revivers. Medicines he’d never used. He felt a fresh stab of shame for not thinking to share the stores with the villagers.

He opened the cabinets containing the most potent of concoctions. These were his only real weapons against the Dark One. Claws and steel blades were nothing to her—she could only be fought with magic. He selected a small green round-bottomed glass bottle, stowed it carefully in his pocket, and left the castle estate on foot.

CHAPTER 14

Amelie did not look back as she fled the library.

Silver rose in hand, she hurried to her chambers with only one thought in mind: to leave this place and never return.

Inside her chambers, she shed her ruined dress and pulled on one of her own. It took her mere seconds to pack her satchel, stowing her few meager possessions inside, along with the rose.

Though she required the Sirenstone to ward off Davron and any raiders she might encounter, she couldn’t bring herself to take the Heartstone. His mother had brought it back from the Beyond. It belonged in the castle, with him.

There was a pang in her chest as she took one last look at her room. In the short time she had been here, it had begun to feel like home. She supposed it was only the enchantments, but the room had seemed perfectly attuned to her.

Even so, she could not remain in this castle any longer.

Once back out in the corridors, she moved with care, unsure if Davron had followed her to her chambers. She heard nothing but still took caution, knowing he could lurk anywhere in the castle.

In the apothecary, she found as many cures and potions as possible for Oskar’s son, and stashed them in her satchel. Her hair flying behind her, she quickly descended the stairs and slipped outside via the storeroom.

Where was Trésor? Amelie wished she’d tried harder to find the stables. She whirled around on the spot, scanning the sunny estate, her heart thudding. Davron could come after her at any moment. She needed to leave.

“Trésor?” she said out loud, feeling slightly ridiculous. Surely, the horse would be locked up, and out of earshot.

But moments later, the golden mare came trotting around the side of the castle, stopping in front of her.

“Trésor! I need to go into the village,” she said. “Is that okay?”

Despite her anxiety, she felt a rush of affection for the horse, and patted her velvety muzzle. To Amelie’s dismay and surprise, Trésor snorted loudly and tossed her head.

“Oh. Why won’t you take me there?”

Trésor eyed her balefully.

“Will you take me home?” asked Amelie. “To my cottage?”

The horse bowed her head once.

“So you will only take me home?” Amelie sighed. “If this is about the Dark One, I am in no danger, because I am leaving the castle for good. I just need to drop some medicine into the village. Please? It’s important. Oskar’s boy is sick.”

Trésor tossed her head again.

“Oh, I suppose you are bound by some kind of magic,” said Amelie. “I will walk into the village, then. It’s not far. Then I will be right back, and we’ll ride for my cottage. Alright?”

Without waiting for an answer, because she did not wish to be stopped, she walked down the driveway to the castle gate. When she looked back, the horse had vanished. Amelie took a deep, unsteady breath and crossed the estate’s perimeter for the first time since she had arrived.

The village was indeed close by. Through a clearing, she followed a laneway directly into the square. The houses were humble and neat, with thatched roofs and well-tended flower beds. It was not market day, for only a handful of residents gathered by the fountain in the square. They stared warily as Amelie approached them.

“Good afternoon,” she said. “I’m looking for Oskar. Could you tell me where he lives?”

“Good afternoon to you,” said one woman, similar in age to Amelie. “And what would you want with Oskar?”

Although not outright rude, the woman’s tone was frosty enough to suggest that strangers were uncommon in the village, and not particularly welcome.

“I have some medicine for his son,” replied Amelie. “He is sick.”

“Ah.” The woman exchanged a glance with the young man next to her. “You’re the master’s sweetheart, are you not?”

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