Page 66 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

Something caught her eye on the floor in the walkway. Half concealed by an ornate golden console, it was the book of folktales from the library. When confronted with the raider, she flung the tome and promptly forgot about it.

She knelt to pick up the book, running her hand over the cover.

“Take it with you,” said Davron.

Amelie slipped the folktales into her satchel and continued to the keep without comment.

The drawbridge was down, extending over the moat, and the weather had turned suitably grim. Three horses in saddles waited under a stark grey sky, a brisk wind nipping at their manes and tails. One of the steeds was Amelie’s beloved Trésor.

Davron remained in the keep’s doorway while her brothers mounted their horses. Amelie stood at the end of the drawbridge, finding it difficult to take the final step. Raphael caught Marcel’s attention and angled his horse down the driveway, leaving her alone with Davron to say goodbye. A proper goodbye—not like the pain-filled exchange she and Davron had in her chambers.

She crossed back over the drawbridge and stood within arm’s reach of him.

“I want you to know,” she said. “I regret nothing.”

He gave a single nod. “I am glad, Amelie.”

She waited for him to say more, but he did not. It seemed to distress him to look at her. When he raised a hand as if to stroke her face, he clenched his jaw and pulled just short of touching her.

“Well—” she said. “Shall I ever see you again?”

“For your sake, I hope not.”

She bit back her frustration and chose to depart with sincere words instead.

“I will look for you in every man I meet. And I already know that I will forever look in vain.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left. She swung herself into Trésor’s saddle, and only when she reached the gate did she look back. Davron stood dark and hulking in the castle doorway, staring after her.

But he disappeared even as she watched, swallowed by the gloomy shadows of the keep.

CHAPTER 28

“Colette is what?” Amelie spun around in her saddle so quickly that she almost fell out of it. “What did you just say, Marcel?”

“We weren’t meant to tell her, Marcel, you dolt,” said Raphael with a groan.

He rode in front of Amelie, with Marcel bringing up the rear.

“But I am her sister,” said Amelie. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Branch,” replied Marcel.

Amelie blinked in confusion. “What?”

He pointed past her. “Branch!”

“Oh.” She turned just in time to duck the oak branch hanging across the narrow road. “Thanks,” she said, sheepish. “But also, I hope you know we’ll not change the subject.”

Marcel groaned this time, sounding identical to his brother. Despite herself, Amelie smiled. She had missed them, doltishness and all.

The roads were busy, making the trio’s journey slower than expected. As they left Davron’s province, Amelie noted that colors were brighter, the air felt livelier, and songbirds sounded sweeter. Much like she had become accustomed to living in luxury, it surprised her how quickly she became used to living under the veil of the curse.

When they first set out, Amelie was jumpy, keeping a hand on the silver rose in her pocket. After the extravagant assault Levissina had launched on Castle Grange just days ago, she found it difficult to believe the sorceress would allow her to leave the province. But the farther they traveled, the more Amelie relaxed. She appeared to be clear of danger.

“The engagement only happened days ago,” explained Raphael. “And then we received the news that you, uh, would be coming home, so of course, Colette wanted to tell you in person.”

“Our little sister, engaged,” said Amelie, sighing in wonder. “Well, isn’t that something?”

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