Page 40 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

“Oh. Alright.”

He was clearly lying, but Amelie did not wish to pry. Well, she did, but she was not going to. Not any more than she already had, anyway. Perhaps the parchment held sentimental value for him.

“Last year, I read one of my mother’s books,” said Amelie. “I never had any interest in this particular story when I was younger, because it was about things I didn’t quite understand. But I read it one day and found a drawing she did in the margin of a page. Just a vine of leaves and roses. Still, it was like she’d reached through time and dimension to remind me that she had lived.”

“What was it?”

“Sorry?”

“The thing you did not understand. What the book was about?”

Caught off guard, Amelie felt her face color. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

The way he looked at her, so intently, she knew he realized she was being evasive. But then, so was he.

She cleared her throat, eager to change the subject. “I asked if you’re sure Levissina can’t be stopped.”

Davron’s face cleared and he shook his head. “If I could kill her, I would have done it long ago.”

“Perhaps Levissina continues her crusade against you because she can not bear to live with the guilt of what she’s done.”

Sadness washed over his features. He looked away. “You would be surprised what people can live with, Amelie. And without.”

“But the curse itself. It can’t be broken?”

“Like I said, if I could do anything about it, I would have.” His tone was edged with steel, signaling the end of the conversation.

He resumed sorting the shelves, turning his back on her. She tried to find the words to express herself, but she could not. While she was not cursed, the contents of her heart and mind often confused her.

Amelie believed herself stunted about matters of the heart. She’d never been able to discuss love and romance and commitment with her father, who was too heartbroken from her mother’s death to talk about it. After a while, Amelie steered away from these mysterious subjects altogether, even within her own mind, preferring to focus on books and living and adventure instead. Things which could not hurt her—at least, not in the way her father had been hurt.

Colette was savvy about love, and Amelie did not understand why. Perhaps it was because Amelie was old enough to recall their mother’s death, while Colette didn’t. But Amelie feared there was something inherently faulty within her that accounted for their differences.

Only when she was sure her voice would be steady, did she speak.

“It was love,” she said.

Davron turned back around, frowning at her. “Pardon?”

“The thing I did not understand in the book. It was love. I fear that I can read about love all day long, but never feel it.”

The depth of dismay that appeared in his garnet eyes made her feel taken aback. Should she not have shared her confession? But then she thought she must have imagined the dismay, because a moment later, it was gone.

Davron gave her a tight smile and went back to the potions.

CHAPTER 18

“Here they come,” said Amelie.

Davron wore an expression of fear—the first she’d ever seen on him. Her heart twinged in sympathy.

“You’ll survive,” she said, patting his arm. “They are only children.”

He snorted. “If they destroy anything, I will grind their bones to make my bread.”

“Oskar, hello!” called Amelie as the man came within earshot.

Nero the Clydesdale pulled the cart, driven by Oskar. His two daughters perched either side of him on the box seat. Sigrid beamed, waving at Amelie, while Julie gazed at the castle with apprehension. Then she caught sight of Davron and her eyes widened farther. Amelie hoped Davron hadn’t noticed, though he doubtlessly did.

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