Page 39 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

“Yes.” She touched the tip of his nose. “Perhaps I am.”

He sighed heavily, but he was smiling, revealing his sharp canines. “Very well. Whatever you desire. I will send word with the golden horse to Oskar. But I am not giving piggyback rides or any such nonsense. And the children are not allowed to touch anything.”

Amelie pressed her lips together to suppress a smile, thinking of Sigrid in particular. “You might need to leave room for negotiation on that point. But instead of the horse, you could go down the village yourself. It might be nice to invite them personally.”

“No.” His response was immediate and firm. “I am not leaving your side, and you are not leaving the castle grounds. The Dark One will not come near you again. The horse will do fine.”

“Well, alright.” She slipped her hand inside his shirt collar, running her fingers over his muscular shoulder. Davron’s manhood stirred, twitching against the back of her thigh. “Now, when you say whatever I desire?—”

“Amelie, no. We are not doing that. I regret that we moved far too fast the other night.”

He stood, picking her up in his arms and placing her on her feet in a single easy movement.

“Your size and strength are most unfair,” she said. “I do not stand a chance.”

“Don’t you forget it.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Now come. Let’s go and upend the apothecary for the village.”

The job was far greater than Amelie had supposed. Bottles and vials had lost their labels, and many recipe scrolls were either faded or misplaced. Still, there would be plenty for the village.

Davron held up a slender glass jar, peering at the contents. “Valerian? No, Lily Of The Valley.”

Amelie spluttered. “You best be sure. One will make you sleep for hours, and the other forever.”

She inspected the sprigs in the jar. “Oh, I can not be sure either. It would be a pity to waste it, but even more of a pity to accidentally assassinate some poor sleep-deprived soul.”

“Well, either way, they would no longer be sleep-deprived.”

She stifled a laugh. “You are beastly.”

“Not my fault, is it?”

Amelie wove through the shelves, sorting through masses of potions and stacking them into wooden boxes. Davron did the same, starting down the other end of the room. She had winced inwardly with guilt when they’d arrived in the room and he’d earnestly given her a tour. Throughout, she had to pretend she hadn’t already thoroughly explored the apothecary.

His pride was the reason she did not confess her intrusion. Something told her that he would’ve hated for anyone to see him in anguish, like when he’d rushed to swig a dram of liquid magic. He was intensely private, and understandably so, but she got the distinct impression there was still plenty he withheld.

A tray of glass jars caught her attention. They were labelled “To inhibit; Reproduction”. She looked over her shoulder to ensure Davron’s attention was elsewhere, and slipped a jar into her pocket. As much as he insisted he would not give in to her advances, there was no harm in being prepared.

Inside a drawer, she found a leather-bound handbook. Elegantly-handwritten lists and notes filled the pages, and Amelie pondered the intimate nature of the apothecary. It had been a labor of love for Davron’s mother. Perhaps they should not be disassembling it and dispersing its contents.

“Are you sure this is okay?” she called out without turning around. “Altering your mother’s apothecary so drastically?”

“Ah, do you jest?” replied Davron. “She has probably been exasperated with me from the Beyond for all these years, for not doing this sooner. Her passion was to help people.”

“Alright, then,” said Amelie, mollified. She went back to sorting bottles. “And—” she hesitated, reluctant to pry.

But, her life was at risk, too. The Dark One wanted to murder her. Amelie had a right to ask questions.

She attempted to keep her tone light. “Are you certain there is nothing in here that would stop Levissina? Truly stop her, for good? Curses are made to be broken, are they not?”

There was no reply. Had he not heard her, or had she overstepped an invisible boundary? Amelie turned around, craning her neck.

Davron was in between shelves, looking down at something beyond her field of vision. She made her way over to him. In his hand was an unrolled piece of yellowed parchment.

As she drew closer, he noticed her. He hastily crumpled the parchment and shoved it in his pocket. His expression was neutral, his dark eyes giving nothing away.

“What was that?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her, as usual.

“I came across some notes of my mother’s. It’s nothing.”

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