Page 47 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

There was also a peculiar phrase at the end. It might’ve related to the curse, but how? The phrase niggled at his memory, provoking something foggy and far away, but the harder he tried to grab it, the farther the memory drifted.

His fate, it seemed, was sealed. He had to be brave and proceed with his plan. Besides, what could be braver than giving one’s life?

Loving, whispered a voice deep inside of him. Loving was the bravest thing a person could do.

Davron rubbed his face, not wishing to listen to the voice. He already loved Amelie, but it was not enough to solve his terrible dilemma. There was no other way out.

Amelie stirred. She readjusted her position and continued to slumber. Not wanting to disturb her, he decided to get up. He would do the one thing that brought him a modicum of peace when he felt mired in turmoil.

With care, he eased his arm out from under Amelie, laying her head on the soft pillow. She slept on. He put the silver rose by her hand and opened the clamshell on the nightstand, the pink shimmering light pouring over her body. She smiled faintly in her sleep, and Davron hoped she was having beautiful dreams.

Already dressed in loose pants and a shirt, he walked through the corridors. The candles on the wall lit up as he progressed. Of course, he knew the route to the piano room like he knew the scarred surface of his hand.

The ceilings of the piano room were as high as the heavens and had floor-to-ceiling windows. Moonlight poured through the glass, casting an opaline glow over the ebony grand piano in the center of the room. The tiled floor was checkered black and white. The room was otherwise empty, the way Davron liked it. The space allowed him to focus, and forget the rest of the world existed.

He sat on the stool and laid his fingers on the ivory keys. After he was cursed, the long, lonely days and nights seemed never-ending, and he would come here. He’d attempted to play the pieces of music he’d learned as a child, under the tutelage of a strict teacher in Klatos. But he stumbled over the keys, because he’d only ever played with ten fingers and regular-sized hands before.

With twelve fingers and a massive handspan, existing music became virtually impossible for him to play. So, he made his own. It was a slow and painstaking process, but he had plenty of time to dedicate himself to it.

Gradually, he’d mastered tempos and melodies befitting his new hands. The result was music unlike he’d ever heard. He did not care if it was good, because he didn’t play for anyone else. He cared only about expressing the morass of longing and pain inside of him. Through his fingers, he’d found he could dispel a small measure of the heartache consuming him.

Now, he began to play an eery sonata with a slow opening tempo. The melody gained speed, his fingers flying over the keys, and his mind became blessedly quiet. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the music.

If he never stopped playing, perhaps he’d never have to say goodbye to his beloved Amelie. The music dipped and soared and filled his very being, giving shape and form to the depths of his soul.

But the song inevitably concluded, the final notes slowing to a lament. He let his fingers rest on the keys, the silence ringing.

He would be grateful, he decided, that he had known Amelie at all. To love her, even for a brief flicker of time, was a gift. He would carry her in his heart right until the very end.

“That was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard,” came a voice from behind him.

Davron withdrew his hands from the keys and turned. Amelie wore only a sheer silk nightdress, the outline of her curves accentuated in the moonlight. So lost he’d been in the music that he hadn’t heard her enter the room.

His body and heart ached at the very sight of her. His internal conflict must’ve shown on his face because she tilted her head and frowned. She walked to him, standing between his legs and placing her hands on either side of his face.

“I awoke because you were not near me,” she said, her voice husky. “I felt your absence as a flower misses the sun in midwinter.”

Her eyes searched his and he knew he was doomed. All of his logic, reason, and morals deserted him. He was meant to love her.

If not forever, then for tonight.

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, toppling the last vestige of self-restraint he possessed.

“Davron, I need you.”

CHAPTER 21

Amelie lingered in the dream world.

A beautiful red-haired woman walked toward her through a tunnel of stormy darkness. Black tendrils exploded from the tunnel, shackling the woman’s limbs and neck. Her pale green eyes gazed at Amelie in grim resignation. Amelie longed to help her, but she was powerless against the howling darkness.

Then, music entered the dream, the melody sweet and melancholic. The dark tendrils began to recede, and the music grew louder.

Amelie awoke with a gasp, the dream bright in her mind. Davron’s bedroom was dark, except for a few candles and the pink light cascading over her from the clamshell. He must have opened it while she slept.

Even before she reached for him, she knew he’d left the room. She’d become so attuned to his essence that his absence was akin to losing a portion of her spirit. This realization—made simple and true by the strange clarity caused by waking from a deep sleep—caught her by surprise. She had never felt that way about anyone before, or even close.

The ethereal music continued, after she leaned over and closed the clamshell. She sat up and frowned, trying to figure out the source of the sound. It was very faint, but it had to be coming from within the castle.

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