Page 33 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

“Is the Dark One dead?” she asked. “How on earth did you stop her?”

The cottages quickly turned into trees as Davron entered the road leading to the castle. The sky was lilac, and silver stars blossomed as dusk took hold.

Davron shook his head. “Not dead. I slowed her down with a dose of darkness, courtesy of the High Magus. I do not use it except in the most dire circumstances.”

“Why not?” asked Amelie in disbelief, trying to catch her breath. “If you have a weapon against her, why would you not use it?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “The potion is incredibly destructive. It stops her in the moment, but ends up making her stronger. After the initial injury, she can transmute the magical energy for her own use. I have bought us some time, that is all. Enough time to get away.” He paused. “Do you require the golden horse when we return?”

She knew what he was really asking. Did she still wish to leave him, never to come back? Did she wish to forget him? Amelie only had to think about it for a moment.

“Take me home,” she said, feeling his heartbeat through his chest. “Take me home to the castle.”

Davron smiled, just a quick flash, before neutralizing his expression.

“You know I am never letting you out of my sight again, do you not?” he asked.

“That is my hope.” She took a deep breath, watching the frame of the castle gate pass over them. “I know what she did with the henbane. I know she poisoned you. I’m sorry I fled without allowing you to explain.”

Davron’s heart thudded harder against her cheek.

“I am glad you know that,” was all he said.

He slowed to a walk, but still did not let her go. Nor did she want him to. She remained in his arms as they entered the castle, and Davron climbed the marble stairs to an area she hadn’t explored yet.

“I am taking you to my chambers,” he said. “Until I know you are completely safe.”

It was only inside his chambers that he carefully set her down. He held her shoulders while she tilted her head back to meet his garnet gaze. Her eye-line barely reached his sternum.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“No. I am well.”

He nodded, his frown lessening.

The room was larger than her chambers. The furnishings were the same baroque style as the rest of the castle, in rich maroons, dark green, and gold. Heavy curtains hung over the windows and candles provided light. A fire roared in the hearth.

Davron’s bed was twice as long and wide as any she’d ever seen. The four posts nearly reached the ceiling and were hung with bolts of black and burgundy fabric. Amelie inhaled through her nose and smiled—his incense and pine scent was strong in the room.

“Would you like to dine?” he asked.

She looked down at her dress, flecked with grime from the Dark One. “I would dearly like to bathe.”

“In here.”

He led her to the adjoining washroom, appointed with polished brass and a marble bathtub. The tap gushed steaming water of its own accord, scented bubbles rising from the tub. Candles fluttered from the dresser.

Davron pulled up a chair between the bath and the door, and he sat facing her.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” asked Amelie.

“I said I’m not letting you out of my sight, and I meant it.” He leaned forward in the chair, leveling his gaze at her. “Unless you order me out of here, in which case, I will stand guard by the door.”

Amelie blushed. Did he jest? Or did he really mean to watch her bathe? And why did the thought of it send a frisson of excitement through her body?

“Very well,” she replied, raising her chin. “As long as you stay over there.”

He kicked off his boots and leaned back. “Your wish is my command.”

---