Page 57 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

“Can you breathe?” he asked. “Is anything broken?”

“I am alright.” Her voice came out in a painful croak. “I can breathe.”

He moved toward her and extended his hand, causing Amelie to shrink back reflexively. It was only then, huddled against the lounge cushions, that she realized she was shivering violently. She wanted to tell him that she was not scared of him. Her reaction was from the shock of being strangled. But she did not possess the strength to say so many words—it seemed beyond her.

His voice was low and remote. “I will get a healer for you. First, I need to secure the castle. Do not move from this room until I return.”

When Amelie looked up again, he was gone.

Time behaved strangely while she waited. She would close her eyes for only a moment and then open them to find half an hour had lapsed. Her mind felt numb, and her body hurt all over, even in places where she was not injured. Her very heart ached.

When Davron returned, his rage had lessened. But he seemed even more detached than the night they first met, when she arrived at the castle. Perhaps he was in shock, too.

His shirt was clean, and he had washed his arms and hands. Blood stained his pants and face. His bare feet were completely red, and Amelie wondered how he did not slip over. Her feet looked the same.

“The raiders are all dead,” he said to the floor. “If any escaped, an even worse fate surely awaits them. Levissina will be furious they failed to kill us. Come, I will take you to your chambers.”

Without waiting for an answer, he picked her up. She did not mind, because it meant she would not have to make any decisions, nor rouse herself. All she wanted was to sit somewhere dark and quiet and safe for a very, very long time.

“Close your eyes,” he said before opening the door.

“Why?” she asked. Then, she realized. “Oh.”

The Great Hall would resemble a battlefield. Amelie squeezed her eyes closed as Davron carried her through the room, but that did not prevent the sickly, metallic smell of blood from invading her nostrils. She gagged, wondering morbidly whether the enchantments of the castle extended to magicking away dead bodies. Somehow, she doubted it.

Her chambers seemed bright and novel in comparison to the carnage downstairs. Davron set Amelie down in front of the crackling fireplace, where she swayed on her feet.

“The first raider did not, um, catch me,” she said. She wanted Davron to know the raider had not violated her. Perhaps that was why he was being so remote with her. “He tried, but I found the rose in time.”

She had expected Davron to express relief, but all he did was stand in silence, gazing at her with haunted eyes.

“I will need to lock you in here while I take care of things outside,” he said eventually. “Will you be alright alone?”

She nodded.

“I will return as soon as I am able. You should bathe. Try to rest.”

“How—” She sighed, unsure how to word her question. “What if more invaders come?”

“I am ready. And I will barricade you in your chambers until I can make other arrangements for you.”

Amelie felt the floor tilt. “What do you mean by arrangements?”

“Do not worry about that now.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “But today will never happen again. You will never be in such danger. I swear it.”

The grim finality of his tone unnerved Amelie.

“If you have plans for me, do I not have a right to know?” she asked.

He started toward the door.

“Just do as I say,” he muttered over his shoulder.

“Pardon?” A needle-sharp sliver of outrage cut through her numbness. “Is that all the explanation I get? I nearly died.”

“That’s right!” he shouted, making her jump. He rounded on her, his garnet eyes ablaze. “You nearly died, Amelie!”

She backed away from him, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

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