Page 65 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

Still, as she repacked her satchel, she felt as though she was leaving unfinished business behind. Had fate truly brought her to Castle Grange for such a short time? For her to leave just when she and Davron were breaking down each other’s walls?

She looked around her chambers one final time. Even from the first lonely night, the room seemed made for her. The silver rose and gold clamshell caught her eye from the nightstand.

Her initial impulse was to leave them behind as an act of defiance.

But would that accomplish anything except causing him worry and distress? She knew better than to indulge in pettiness. Not to mention, leaving the artifacts behind could endanger her. The silver rose had saved her twice, and the Heartstone was a great comfort. And she would need comfort now more than ever.

So, she stowed the shell and rose in her satchel. At least she would have the Heartstone’s embrace when she slept, if not Davron’s.

After taking a steadying breath, she descended the marble staircase to face the three men who infuriated her more than anything. And whom she adored, regardless.

“Amelie!”

As she entered the gallery, Raphael ran and scooped her into his arms, swinging her around. He set her down and held her shoulders while looking her over.

“Are you well, sister?”

The bruises on her throat must’ve vanished, because his eyes did not linger on her neck, nor elsewhere. Reylene was truly a healer beyond compare.

Her brother did frown slightly at her face—her cheeks and eyes were likely red from crying.

“I am well,” she said, smiling.

Marcel hugged her next, his face drawn. Davron stood at a respectful distance, his arms folded. Marcel’s eyes kept darting around the resplendent and daunting interior of the castle. Last time, they had only glimpsed it during the dead of the night while drunk.

Amelie recalled her first impression of the castle, seeing the interior through the eyes of her brothers. The gargantuan oil paintings of Davron’s relatives, the ornate gold leaf fittings, and the distant vaulted ceilings were as overwhelming as they were splendid.

Long moments of silence passed. Everybody seemed to be waiting for someone else to speak. Amelie attempted to catch Davron’s eye, hoping they would share a private goodbye, but he focused on her brothers.

“You ought not to delay your departure,” he said, his voice rumbling through the large halls. “There is a safe inn at Dumas Place to stay overnight.”

How many more times would Amelie hear that voice? Would she see his face again? Did she even want to, after he eliminated her from his life? Had she understood anything about him at all? Perhaps not.

“I would like to ride through the night,” said Amelie. “I would like to get home.”

A flicker of hurt crossed Davron’s face, only to vanish a second later. It was enough to make Amelie feel both victorious and totally wretched. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, exactly. If she was honest with herself, what she really wanted was a sign he cared. And he had given it, yet now she felt even worse than before.

“Let’s see how we feel when we get to Dumas?” asked Raphael. “It is, after all, a long journey.”

He’d been looking from Amelie to Davron with a slight frown. She wondered what Davron told her brothers about her time here or the circumstances of her departure. Surely not everything.

“Very well,” said Amelie, wanting to be on her way.

As much as she didn’t wish to leave, she didn’t want to linger where she was not welcome, either. Her chest ached more by the second.

“I will walk you out,” said Davron.

Amelie gestured the corridor leading to the keep. “Do not bother. I know the way.”

There was a loaded pause.

“Amelie, this is his cas—” started Marcel.

She silenced him with a stony look. Her brother had enough grace to recognize his hypocrisy in chastising Amelie. After all, Marcel’s bad behavior was the reason she was here in the first place.

As she led the men down the hallway, she wondered if she was glad, on balance, for the events caused by Marcel’s fateful drunken stumble into Castle Grange.

She glanced over her shoulder. Despite her snippy rebuff, Davron walked at the back of the party. Given his height, she gazed directly into his eyes. This time, he did not look away. He even gave her a sad, tight-lipped smile. Before she abandoned all decency and begged him to let her stay, she turned around, blinking rapidly.

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